Page 20 of Her Tempting Traitor
There was a hint of humor in his voice when he inquired, “On a book?”
“On the ladder rail.” She thought she heard a snort of laughter beneath her, so her voice was more peevish when she asked, “Are you going to help?”
With a put-upon sigh, he murmured, “I suppose I must.”
Gabby had every intention of snapping an initiated reply…had Cassian not chosen that moment to wrap his hand around her ankle and all thought fled from her mind.
His hold was gentle, yet firm. His fingers encircled her leg, right above the top of her half-boot, and she could feel the warmth of his hold spear through her silk stockings.
Through sheer dint of will, she managed to keep from whimpering.
He betrayed his country. He killed the men who trusted him. He is a traitor, the lowest of the low. You are here to bring him down.Tryto remember that!
Oh yes, it was well and good for her subconscious to judge her for her body’s response, but herbodywas currently the one all aflame because of a man’s simple hold on her silk-clad ankle.
Cassian’s dark head bent over the task, gently manipulating her heel first one direction, then the other. When it popped free, she felt his exhale against the silk covering her calf.
God in his Heaven?—
“There,” he murmured, stepping back.
Gabby knew she needed to thank him, and she would, just as soon as she managed to make her voice work. For now she focused on climbing down, her gaze locked on the spines of the books ahead of her, and not at all on what was beneath her feet.
Which was a foolish move, because her foot caught in her skirts again and she pitched backward with a gasp.
And for the second time since arriving in Inverlochy Castle, Cassian Grey caught her.
For the second time, Gabby slammed into his chest, involuntarily inhaling his scent—shaving soap, charcoal, and a ligament rub she recognized.
For the second time, her head tipped back to stare up at him, and he just looked so put out that she had to grin.
“I promise I am not naturally this clumsy.”
“Really?” he grunted. “Are ye certain?”
But he made no move to set her away from him. This was…good progress, was it not? Remembering her cousin Marcia’s technique when on assignment with Baron Tostingham—once murder suspect, now her husband—Gabby wondered if she should try…well. Flirting with Cassian. With Mr. Grey. With the traitor.
If he were interested in her, he would spend more time with her. The more time he spent with her, the more likely she would learn the truth about the Belfast mission that went so terribly wrong.
So she lowered her eyes in what she hoped was a demure expression. “Why, Cassian,” she breathed, “you reallyarea hero.”
To her surprise, he stiffened and barked, “What?”
“You caught me.” Gabby kept her voice simpering as she peeked up at him. “Thank you. You reallyarethe hero Augustus said you are.”
“What?”he repeated, this time grabbing her shoulders and setting her away from him. “I’m nae hero, and nae one here thinks that. Least of all…” He turned away, sentence incomplete, limping toward the pile of books.
Gabby, committed now—Yououghtto be committed, you are terrible at this—hurried after him. “I have taken tea twice with Lady Zilphia—or rather, Aunt Zilphia, because she insists Inverlochy Castle is an informal place. She also brags heartily about your service to the Queen.”
His brow twitched at the wordalso, and now he eyed her uncertainly.
“She says you were hurt in a mission for the Secret Service.” Gabby tried to look suitably impressed. “And your son said you were mightily indispensable to the Crown.”
That hadn’t beenquitewhat the boy had said, when Gabby had tried to encourage him to speak of his father, hoping for more information. But perhaps it would work…
Cassian’s expression had turned hard, but there was confusion, perhaps even hope, in his eyes. “Gus doesnae have any reasons to brag about me.”
Ah. So he wouldn’t be falling for flattery. Not in that direction, anyway. “He…said something to me?—”
