Page 47 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
“I’ve tried to block it from my memory,” Kit bit out. “I was an ass of the highest order.”
Lando inclined his head. “Be that as it may, I am a cautious man, as one who is breaking the laws of the land by lying here with you has to be. I don’t share my bed with anyone, you understand.”
“Glad to hear it.” He’d be sharing it with no one except Kit from now on if he had any say in the matter. Even if his smart lover was damned annoying.
“My loyal Jasper has been trailing after you since we arrived in London. On my instruction. For both your protection and mine.”
So that’s why the great one-eyed lug had insisted he personally deliver Kit to Sindell Street that first time. And to the tailors.
“I suppose I should be grateful,” he grunted in a most ungrateful fashion. “Your suspicious nature has saved my life.”
“It has.” Lando nodded. “Thus, I’m grateful to myself.”
He sounded a tiny bit smug. As well he might. Shaking his head, Kit smiled to himself. Annoyance was futile as, indeed, was any sort of defence against this man.
“And I don’t have an irascible shell!”
“You are blessed witha lotof hair though.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
TWO DAYS LATER, when a footman arrived at Grosvenor Street with a note forewarning them of Sir Ambrose’s imminent visit, the sated lovers were knee-deep in playing cards. Or rather, Kit was cheating at three-card brag, and Lando was attempting to spot his deception. He’d declared—rightly– that Kit’s loose left sleeve was somehow involved, but, to Kit’s delight, Lando was failing to fathom it. Notwithstanding, sprawled in the armchair next to Kit’s bed, with a wooden tray balanced on Kit’s lap serving as a makeshift card table, his lover appeared to be thoroughly enjoying his failed attempts to get to the bottom of it.
“He’s arriving at four.” Lando perused the missive as if it might contain clues to the sender’s intent. “To pay you a visit. Not me.”
A fluttery sensation pooled low in Kit’s belly. They exchanged a look, the cards forgotten. Lando’s hand slipped into Kit’s. “Do you feel well enough?”
On the physician’s orders, Kit had remained confined to bed for several more days. Lando, his faithful nursemaid, had ensured he followed the order to the letter, forbidding Kit all activities unless they involved him and were strictly horizontal.
“I shall have to be, shan’t I?” He fingered the purplish bruise above his right eye. The bandage had been removed the day before, but the wound was far from healed. “I can hardly receive him here in my nightgown.”
Truth be told, Kit was feeling much improved. His headaches had receded, his vision returned to normal, and his appetite stronger. His libido was ravenous. Indeed, he could have ventured from his sick chamber earlier, but if Lando wanted to coddle him a little while longer, then who was Kit to complain?
“Meet him in the library,” Lando instructed. “The light is dimmer there. You shall appear less pale.”
Jasper appeared to help him bathe and dress. In his previously weakened state, the practicalities of those activities had taken up all of Kit’s strength, leaving him far too exhausted for awkward exchanges. And though his heart held but a very small amount of affection for the surly ex-soldier—a sentiment reciprocated, he was sure—it sat there alongside a deep well of gratitude, which he could no longer ignore. Even though spitting out the words pained him. Especially when Kit was marooned in the middle of the bedchamber wearing nothing but his underclothes, with the ex-soldier holding his breeches to ransom in his great paw.
Clearing his throat, Kit addressed the man’s solid back as he bent over the washstand, preparing for Kit’s shave. “I would like to take this opportunity to express my gratitude to you, Jasper, for rescuing me from a rather threatening situation.”
“Beg your pardon, sir.” Noisily, Jasper tipped water, no doubt only tepid, into the ceramic wash basin. “Missed that.” He tapped his ear, turning to face Kit. “Deaf in this one. Musket blast six inches from it back in 1814.”
Kit gave him a long hard stare. Whenever Lando reminded Jasper that it was time for Kit to drink some vile medicinal concoction on his physician’s advice, the man’s hearing was perfectly intact. Jasper’s single eye roamed over Kit’s exposed legs.
“I said,” he repeated through gritted teeth. “You have my sincere gratitude for rescuing me from an…an awkward encounter.”
Jasper made a sound suspiciously like a snort. “I’ve heard a good thrashing called a few things in my soldiering days, but never an…”
“All right, all right. Good grief, man. Just…thank you. You saved my life, and I’m eternally grateful and forever in your debt, et cetera, et cetera.”
Jasper returned his attention to the washstand. “Didn’t do it for you. Did it for him.”
“Yes, well. I rather presumed that to be the case.” Kit exhaled through his nose, and his fingers twitched, almost as if he wanted to wrestle something. He would very much like to be wearing his breeches. “His lordship is terribly grateful too.”
“He’s a good man. One of the best. Like his father before him.”
“So I understand.” Still on the weak side, Kit sank into the chair by the washstand. “You are…um…obviously content to be in his employ at Rossingley.” He leaned forward as Jasper roughly folded a towel around his neck. “It’s a fine part of the world. There are certainly much worse places to live.”
“There be that,” agreed Jasper. He proffered two soap bars. “Would sir like the jasmine or orange?”
