Page 54 of The Duke of Lies
He eased back one last time and brought her to a straight standing position. He couldn’t let this go on. As it was, he was going to have to frig himself the minute she left.
“Was I successful?” He shouldn’t have asked, but if he’d failed, he reasoned he’d have to try again. Or so he hoped.
“Very. Perhaps too much.” Her lips curled into a faint smile, and his knees went weak. She dropped her hands from his neck and took a tiny step back. “Thank you. I should go to bed.” She retreated another step.
“That’s probably wise.”
Her eyes widened briefly, and she gave her head a shake. “I need to get the ointment. Wait here.”
He wanted to tell her they’d apply it in the morning, but knew it was an argument he’d lose. She was the master of this castle, and he liked it that way.
In her absence, his ardor cooled, thanks in part to his brain telling his body to calm the hell down. He slipped the letter and the ledger from his garments and tucked them into a dresser drawer.
When she returned, she applied the ointment, then wrapped a bandage around his hand. “I’ll re-dress this tomorrow. We’ll tell Beau you had an accident in the lumber room. Some wood splintered and cut your face as well as your hand.”
That was a far better excuse than what Kit had come up with. “I was going to say I fell down the stairs. Your tale is less detrimental to my pride.”
She laughed, and his ardor stirred again. Everything about her made him want her. Fiercely.
She picked up his basin and the bloody cloth.
“You don’t have to take those.”
“I don’t want the maid to find them tomorrow. It’s fine. This is what mothers do—not that I’m your mother.”
He winced. “Never that, please.”
“No, never that,” she agreed softly, her eyes fixed on his mouth.
And suddenly, his cock was at full staff again. “You’d better go,” he rasped.
She gave a sharp nod. “Good night. Sleep well.” Then she turned and walked to the door, which she’d left ajar when she’d returned with the medicine.
He followed her and held the door for her as she walked over the threshold. “Sleep well, Verity.”
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, and he thought she might say something. In the end, she turned her head back and walked toward her room at the end of the corridor. He watched her until her door was closed, then he went into his chamber and shut the door, immediately collapsing against the wood.
Well, this had been an eventful night. He’d been alarmed as hell to learn that someone knew he wasn’t the duke.
And now he knew Verity didn’t think he was either. He would bet his life she wasn’t the person who’d told Cuddy—that made no sense given the timing of Cuddy’s departure and the nature of her relationship with her former steward.
Which meant there absolutely was a third person who knew Kit was lying. He had to find that person and make sure they kept the secret. Because he meant what he’d told her—he wasn’t going to leave. Not now. Not if she didn’t want him to, and maybe that would change once she learned who he really was and why he’d masqueraded as Rufus in the first place. He had to tell her the truth, and probably sooner rather than later. He winced, thinking she might very well toss him out and that he’d deserve it.
But until she did, this was a secret he’d do anything to protect.
Chapter 12
Nearly every morning, Beau woke up and came into Verity’s chamber. Sometimes it was very early and sometimes it was later, but the routine was the same. He’d come in, and if she was still abed, he’d climb in with her. If she was in the middle of her morning toilet, he would sit with her while her maid helped her prepare for the day. Someday, perhaps soon, that might become awkward for him—to see her in a state of undress. Then he’d probably just wait in her chamber. Until he went off to school. How she dreaded that day.
But today was not that day, and he sat on a chair in her dressing area, his legs dangling as he pumped his feet impatiently. “Can we go on another picnic today?” he asked.
Verity glanced toward the drizzle hitting her window. “I don’t think so. It’s raining, unfortunately.”
Beau exhaled. “We could have it inside.”
Yes, she supposed they could. Her maid finished the last touches on her hair, and Verity turned toward her son. “You have a very creative mind. Ready for breakfast?”
He bounded from the chair and dashed through her study to the staircase that led down next to the kitchen. From there, she followed him along the short corridor to the small dining room where they’d begun taking breakfast shortly after Rufus had returned.
