Page 52 of Noble Scoundrel

“Someone’s awful sleepy,” Hale noted in a low voice, but the girl quickly lowered her hands and pouted in protest.

“No sweepy.”

Turning away from her father in an unexpected show of defiance, Claire slid across the table and stretched her pudgy, sugar-coated hands toward Katherine, who did not hesitate to take the girl in her arms as an odd ache expanded in her chest. Within moments, Claire was settled comfortably in her lap. Pale curls rested against her shoulder as the toddler’s chubby little fingers plucked at the ribbon decorating Katherine’s gown.

Surprised and quietly charmed by the girl’s unexpected demonstration of trust, Katherine wrapped her arms around her soft, warm body and gave a gentle squeeze. Looking up, she smiled apologetically. “Sorry. If you want to take her upstairs, I can—”

“No,” he interrupted in a quiet but stern voice, his attention focused on Claire, who had started breathing in a heavy rhythm as her fussing began to slow. “There’s no rush.” His gaze flicked up to hers. “Unless, you’d rather not—”

“No,” she answered quickly, smoothing her hand in slow circles over Claire’s back. “She can stay.”

He grunted softly before turning to lift the pitcher of ale. “In that case, would you like another pour?”

Katherine hesitated for only a second, but the midnight peace of the kitchen was too contented to let it end just yet. “Yes, thank you, but just a little.”

When he set the pitcher back on the table, she nodded toward his own mug. “No more for you?”

“None at all.”

She lifted a brow in surprise. “You’d don’t like ale?”

“Love it,” he replied gruffly. “But I won’t touch the stuff. Not anymore. No more ale. Nor wine. Nor gin, whiskey, or brandy.”

Katherine paused, sensing the gravity of his declaration. Tilting her head, she asked simply, “Why?” It seemed the ale had warmed her tongue as well as her bones.

He looked back to Claire as a shadow passed over his features. “I imagine Freddie told you Claire had been with him when we found them in that bastard Bricken’s warehouse.” She nodded. “You also probably know we barely found those children in time. Another couple hours and we’d’ve lost them.”

The reminder sent a shock of cold through her chest, but when his gaze met hers, she was surprised by the pain she saw there. Pain and guilt and quietly burning fury. She might have been discomfited by the strength of his anger if it wasn’t so clearly directed inward.

His brows furrowed heavily over his eyes. “If I hadn’t spent several days in a drunken stupor—if I’d faced my failings instead of trying to drown them—I could’ve found her long before she fell into Bricken’s hands. She never should’ve been there.”

His hand curled into a fist atop the table, the veins in his arm bulging as his knuckles turned white. The instinct to comfort him had Katherine shifting her hold on Claire to reach out and cover his fist with her hand before she even thought about it. Strength and violence seethed within him. But she also felt his control. He wasn’t a man to be ruled by such emotions. He was a man who mastered them.

The hard lines of his jaw clenched then released and his eyes narrowed. Staring intently at her face, he didn’t reject her touch. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he’d noticed it.

“I was no better’n my own drunken arsehole of a father. More concerned with my troubles than the needs of my child.” His voice dropped to a low growl. “I’ll never fucking forgive myself for that.”

Katherine didn’t know what to say. Perhaps there was nothing to say.

The conviction in his voice was undeniable. Though plagued by his prior mistakes, he was clearly determined to do better. To be better for the sake of his daughter.

As she held his gaze, feeling the remorse and shame he carried for his past mistakes, something changed in the air around them. It was subtle and quiet. A moment. A sigh. Then his large fist—still covered by her hand—turned and opened to match hers.

A tingling wave rushed through her from her scalp to her toes, and she glanced down to where her hand now rested in his. The roughened texture of his palm didn’t bother her—in fact it intrigued her—but something about the difference in size between them and the warmth of his touch gave her a distinct sense of uncertainty. So much strength and capability in his hands. So much experience and power.

He didn’t even have to curl his fingers around hers to hold them in place. He simply opened his palm and she was momentarily helpless to pull away.

As she watched, he brushed his wide thumb once across her knuckles. Goose bumps rose on her arms and something twisted in her sternum.

With an unsteady breath, she lifted her gaze. Tension was evident in the line of his jaw, and his eyes were unreadable as he stared intensely back at her. There was just a moment of poignant expectancy before the corner of his mouth curled and he gave a short laugh. Abruptly releasing her hand, he swiped up his mug and lifted it in a mocking toast. “Goat’s milk is about as potent as it gets for me.”

“A noble refreshment,” she asserted with a smile. Doing her best not to reveal the sense of loss she experienced at his withdrawal, she reached for her own mug to complete the toast.

At Claire’s soft snore, Katherine glanced down. The little girl’s lips were softly parted in her sleep, and a delicate sweep of golden lashes fluttered against pink cheeks.

Hale cleared his throat and rose to his feet. “I suppose it’s time.” He looked down at the platter that had previously been heaped with food but now held only a few crumbs. His grin when he glanced up again was almost boyishly wicked. “D’you reckon cook’ll be angry to discover her larder’s been raided?”

Aiming for the same casual tone, Katherine replied, “She’s used to it, I imagine. Frederick frequently sneaks into the kitchen between meals.”

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