Page 13 of Her Tempting Traitor
Cassian snorted softly, one side of his lips curling ruefully, glad for a chance to talk of something non-incendiary. “I was trained in art—sketching, I guess. Map-making, forgery, that sort of thing.”
Now the lad was shaking his head, a wee furrow in his brow. “But forgery isn’t art. It’s wrong.”
“Aye, it is,” Cassian sighed, unwilling to get into a debate about legality, morality, and duty, not when his son was finally talking to him. “But sometimes I’m grateful for the skills the Service taught me.”
“Like being able to draw an elephant?” Before Cassian could decide if he wanted to explain he’d been sketching something more relevant moments before, Gus pointed to the portrait. “You see the way her stomach’s distended—there? That’s the baby. Uncle Dickie is afraid the pregnancy is going wrong, that’s why he’s hired—oh!” Gus leapt for the window set into the French doors. “There they are!”
Cassian had little interest in the elephant’s pregnancy woes, or this veterinarian Sir Richard had sent for from London…but hewasinterested in his son, and this was practically the most words Gus had strung together in his presence in the last three months.
So, gritting his teeth and ignoring the pain, he limped toward the doors. “Och, aye, I see them,” he murmured, watching Sir Richard—gesturing animatedly—lead two figures across the lawn. A man and a woman, both dressed modestly.
“Which one’s the veterinarian?”
His son glanced at him in surprise. “The man, of course. I’m going to go see what he has to say—” The lad stopped suddenly with his hand on the door handle. His chin twitched, as if he’d begun to turn back to Cassian, then changed his mind. “Do you want—I mean…”
Was that an invitation? Cassian had no desire to see the animal up close, much less watch some pompous medical arse from London examine the thing…but this was the most interest Gus had shared with him…ever.
“Aye, lad, I’ll join ye,” he agreed, trying to sound eager. “Ye go ahead and I’ll catch up.”
To his surprise, Gus glanced over his shoulder at the damned cane, resting where Cassian had originally sat. Without looking him in the eye, the boy left his post and darted across the room to snatch it up, then hurried back to thrust it at his father without meeting his gaze.
Stunned at the thoughtfulness—and darkly pleased he wasn’t going to have to hobble across the room on his own—Cassian took it mutely. Before he could force his throat to work and issue any thanks, Gus had wrenched open the French doors and was running pell-mell across the lawn.
“Uncle Dickieeeeee?—”
Thoughtfully, and far more slowly, Cassian followed.
Gus had made no secret of his anger for his father’s sudden return. Although Cassian didn’t fully understand it, he didn’t doubt it—nor blame the lad. He’d been absent most of his son’s life, and now he had nowhere to beexceptin Gus’s business. Cassian would likely be angry too.
Had he any experience with fathers in general, that was.
Aye, Gus was angry with him, but he’d still shown compassion by fetching Cassian’s cane for him so he didn’t have to limp across the room. That hadn’t been necessary, but it had been…kind.
His son was kind.
Must be Artemesia’s influence.
Except Artemesia had been dead for nearly six years now, and the lad barely remembered her. Lady Zilphia Biggenpans’s influence then? Sir Richard?
Or…
Was it possible the lad’s obsession with the animals in Sir Richard’s growing menagerie had done that?
Frowning in meandering thought, Cassian slowly—refusing to allow himself to limp—approached the group staring at the unmoving elephant. Sir Richard—with Gus standing off to one side, hands in his pockets, rocking anxiously on his heels—was speaking to the veterinarian, whose attention seemed to be on…
On the woman at his side.
Cassian had been raised as the grandson of a poor vicar until his father had finally acknowledged him and sent him off to school, and his holy grandfather would have beaten his arse for the way his body responded to the woman standing beside the veterinarian.
She has lips made for sin.
Aye, and her lips were just about all he could see of her, what with her being bent over that notepad. Cassian shifted his weight, hoping his cock wasn’t showing up to join the conversation and offer to become a second cane.
Ye just glanced at her, ye arsehole. Get yerself under control.
And he might have, had her little pink tongue not darted out from between those lips then, sending a shock right to his crotch. Swallowing, Cassian found himself stepping closer, until he forced his body underhis control by gripping the handle of the accursed cane.
There was a flash of dark blue from beneath her lashes, and in that moment he knew she was looking at him.
