Page 66 of Her Tempting Traitor
Gabby Butcombe, I think I love ye.
And when he broke away, Cassian pressed his forehead to hers. “Neither of us have been fully truthful, eh, lass? But that doesnae change the way I feel about ye.”
“It should,” she whispered.
“Aye, but it doesnae. I’ve been lying toyethis whole time too, after all.”
Gabby swallowed, swinging her legs over the side of the bed as he scooped up her purple robe to toss her direction. As she struggled into it, she watched him maneuver his prosthetic through his trouser leg, then button them at his waist.
“Is this…” she finally hazarded. “Is this about your last mission?” Was he finally going to tell her the truth?
He met her eyes, and she saw determination in those bright depths. “I trust ye, Gabby whoever-ye-are.” Then hewinced. “Unless theButcombewas yer real name, and Gabby is false?”
She had to stifle a grin as she stood. “No, my name is Gabby—well, Gabrielle. Well, not really, I suppose, but…”
How to explain?
And then she couldn’t worry about explaining, because Cassian had stepped up andliftedher in his arms.
“Cassian!” she gasped, throwing her arms around his neck. “What are you—put me down!”
“Why?” he grunted, turning toward the door. “Ye dinnae think I’m strong enough to carry ye?”
“I think you are still unstable on your feet, and if you tip forward, we will both crash down and you will squash me to jam!”
By this time they were in the corridor, and he merely grunted at the possibility. “Then ye best cease yer squirming, lass, lest ye overbalance me and we pitch to our squashitude.”
“That is not a word,” she muttered, but shedidstop wriggling. After a few moments, during which she told herself shewasallowed to breathe without throwing off Cassian’s careful gait, she ventured, “And where are we going?”
“My chambers have a private bathing room,” he announced curtly as he turned down a corridor. “And luckily nae stairs between here and there. I dinnae think I could manage stairs.”
A private bathing room sounded lovely. Gabby was accustomed to one at Exingham House, and had found her ablutions to be a tad rushed here at Inverlochy.
Still, in response to the stairs comment, she had to huff, “I am notthatheavy.”
“Nay, but I am that clumsy?—”
Cassian bit off the end of the sentence and suddenly pivoted, turning his back against the wall and lowering her legs. At first, she thought shehadbecome too heavy for him, but he moved to put her between his shoulder and the wall as she heard what he had: feminine giggles coming from the chamber they were about to pass by.
“Oh la, Sir Richard, we mustn’t!” The voice was higher pitched than Gabby had heard, with a strong Liverpudlian accent. “Whatwillyour wife say?”
Gabby sucked in a breath, her hand clamping around Cassian’s upper arm as realization dawned. She felt him relax as he processed there was no danger, but the expression he turned to her was as shocked as her own must be.
Then came Sir Dickie’s laughter. “Slow down, you minx! I’ll catch you yet?—”
“Oh, sir, no, I’m just a humble maid!”
“That means you belong to me, girl. Come back here!”
Oh dear, oh dear. Gabby realized her breaths were coming too quickly, and she watched the muscles around Cassian’s eyes tighten in disappointment. All this time, she’d thought Sir Dickie to be very much in love with his wife…at least, their constant bedsport had made it seem that way.
But to unwillingly discover he acted that way with other women too?
Gabby frowned, her estimation of their host lowering by quite a few notches.
There was the sound of something breaking in the sitting room, then running feet.
“I’ll take that from your wages you harlot,” called out Sir Dickie. “Or you could make it up to me with your pretty little mouth!”
