Page 19 of Her Tempting Traitor
Cassian Grey was standing beneath her, holding Barnhardt’s definitive work. What was he doing here? His dark hair was sweaty, sticking up in all directions as if he’d run his hand through it repeatedly, and his sleeves were rolled up.
And he was missing his jacketandwaistcoat.
Gabby told herself she was checking on the status of the book, not staring at his muscular forearms and strong fingers. Those tempting forearms and strong fingers just happened to benext tothe book, so of course she’d have to look at them too…
His brow rose. “Hello.” His expression was neutral, but he was just as handsome as the day they’d arrived, the day she’d tripped and fallen into his arms.
Why hadn’t Bull mentioned howhandsomeCassian Grey was? Thick dark hair, well-trimmed beard, wide lips…true, she could be cataloging the features of any number of men here in the Highlands. But they combined in a way to make him…utterly devastating to look at.
Completely inappropriate, that she should be noticing such a thing.
Her throat had gone dry. She was alone in the library with a traitor. An incrediblytemptingtraitor.
He is why you are in Inverlochy, remember.
No, she was at Inverlochy Castle because of the sick elephant.Thatwas their ticket in;Hunterwas supposed tobe the one investigating Cassian, he was far more experienced at this sort of thing.
On the other hand, perhaps this was a golden opportunity. After the fool she’d made of herself with him on the day of their arrival—bloodying him and then unintentionally flirting with him—she hadn’t had any alone time with him, and neither had Hunter. They’d all seen one another at meals and from a distance, but he seemed to be strangely absent most hours.
Did he spend his time hiding in the library?
Had he been hiding from her? Fromthem? Embarrassed, her gaze wandered over his face, until his second brow joined the first and she knew he was waiting on an answer.
“Your lip looks good—better, I mean,” she blurted. “Healed.”
Both brows slammed back down and he turned away. “Och, well, I’m a fast healer.”
Was he? He limped to the same side table where she’d placed her other books, and arranged the Barnhardt book atop it. From this angle, she could see the way his shirt—damp with sweat—stuck to his back.
Had he been…exercising? Chopping wood? Lifting lead weights?
For Heaven’s sake,where?
When he turned back to her—still balanced awkwardly on one foot five feet in the air—Gabby found herself asking that question. “Were you exercising? Here, in the library?”
He froze, his gaze darting back to the book, then to her eyes, then to her stuck foot. “I find I often have the place tomyself. And there’s more dark corners here than elsewhere.” He glanced away, and she wondered if it was her imagination that his cheeks darkened. “I’m no’ going to get sturdier by sitting on my arse.”
Intrigued despite her predicament, Gabby asked curiously, “And what do you do?”
He frowned. “What?”
“How do you getsturdier, as you say?” She had some experience with amputations among animals, but they had three other legs to make up for it. They got up and moving so much quicker. “I suppose jumping and lunging, that sort of thing?”
He was watching her with his head cocked in what she hoped was bemusement. “Aye. And balance training. Today I was using weights.”
Ah, so shehadbeen correct! Her smile was instinctual, but then she froze—still balanced precariously—and realized what all this meant. “How long were you in here?” she asked suspiciously.
Was it her imagination, or did his lips twitch? It was hard to tell from this position. “There’s a reading niche behind those stacks. I thought if I kept still and quiet, ye might take your books and leave me to my peace again.”
Ah, so hehadbeen in here the entire time? Listening to her mumble to herself? Thank goodness shehadn’tsquealed happily on the ladder. Wait. Had she?
“But it seems ye need my help, Miss Butcombe.”
Gabby winced at that ridiculous name. “I thought we decided you ought to call me Gabby?” Oh blast, she wasmaking a complete muck of this. How else to get him to stop calling her by that ridiculously false name? “Since we are both guests here at Inverlochy and bound to become friends,” she hurried to explain. “I will call you Cassian, the same way I call Augustus by his name, and we can all be chums.”
“Chums,” he repeated dryly, stepping up beside her and craning his neck back. Oh Lord, could he see up her skirt? “Do ye need help,Gabby?”
Her throat had gone dry with his nearness. Or perhaps embarrassment. Or anticipation, wondering how much of her legs he could see. “I…my foot appears to be stuck.”
