But if he confronted Geoffrey Gothard here and now, what would become of Emerald? Torn in two directions, his thoughts raced incoherently. What would Father do? Protect the woman or stand up to the brothers like a man?
The hoofbeats came closer.
Panic.
Releasing his grip on the sword, he angled Emerald away from the street, tilted her face up, and crushed his mouth to hers.
THIRTY-NINE
STARTLED, Caithren pushed weakly at Jason’s chest with both hands.
“Kiss me, will you?” He spoke against her lips. “They mustn’t see our faces.”
“Who?” she asked, but the question was smothered by his mouth, and her awareness whirled and skidded when his arms settled around her shoulders, dragging her to him. Maybe to shield them from view, but the truth was, she couldn’t have cared less.
Improper or not, she was getting her wish, and she meant to make the most of it. She wound her fingers in his silky, blunt-cut hair. Heat sprinted along her veins as his lips—
He pulled away. “I think they’re gone.”
She moved with him, pressing closer. “Are you sure?”
“Mmm.” Another light kiss sent her heart to racing. “Pretty sure.”
When he released her, she slumped against the wall. He stepped out into the street for a moment. “They’re gone,” he said as he returned.
“Who?” Her voice came out thin and reedy.
He drew a deep breath. “The Gothards.”
“The Gothards?” She struggled to pull herself together. “Why didn’t you just shoot them?”
“I…it…didn’t feel like the right time.” He looked into the street, down at his feet, everywhere but her eyes.
She gave a violent shake to her head, and it cleared with a rush of shock and outrage. “I heard no footsteps following us! You only…you used that as an excuse to ravish me!”
“Ravish you?” He appeared to choke back laughter. “I think not, sweet. In my estimation, that was nowhere near a ravishing.” His hand went up to stroke his missing mustache, then dropped to his side. “Besides, you didn’t seem to take exception. You kissed me too.”
“You claimed we were being followed! I wanted to make it look good.”
“Hmm, is that so?” He didn’t look convinced.
He didn’t look at all spooked anymore, either.
“You arranged this whole thing,” she accused him. “From the outset this eve, you’ve been telling me something was wrong. All so you could kiss me.”
Now he did laugh. “Need I make up stories to kiss you? Couldn’t I just…”
He pulled her away from the wall, bent her backward, and ravished—there was no other word for it—ravished her mouth with his. Any protest died on her lips as tendrils of sensation stole along her nerves. His spicy, warm scent flooded her senses.
When he set her away, carefully placing her straight, she just stood there, trying to catch her wind. No words came to her stunned mind.
He had plenty of words for them both, though. “So, you see, I’ve no reason to make excuses.”
“Oh,” she breathed, shaken and embarrassed. To avoid his eyes, she walked to the edge of the houses and looked out into the street. Although dark was encroaching, the little village was still busy. People drifted in and out of taverns and rode the street on horseback. She didn’t recognize anyone, but they were all far away and hard to see in the failing light. She turned back, considering whether she ought to believe him despite the blow to her pride.
In all truth, a battalion could have thundered by during that kiss and she wouldn’t have heard it with the blood rushing in her ears.
She glanced up at the hard line of his mouth. If she questioned his intentions again, he’d surely argue, and she didn’t want more arguing.
She wanted more kissing.
Her legs felt wobbly, and her heart was still racing.
He looked down at her and spoke more gently. “You see? They’re definitely gone.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and took her hand reassuringly. “Don’t be frightened.”
She wasn’t frightened, but since she liked holding his hand, she didn’t say so. Even his fingers felt warm and exciting. Though she’d rather he take her hand because he wanted to, for him to take it out of gallantry was nearly as good.
“Come along,” he said. “We’ll get you some supper, and you’ll feel better.”
That prompted a smile. “Is food your solution for everything, then?”
“Nearly.” He grinned, then led her back to the street. As they walked along, she shifted her fingers so they laced with his. That felt even better.
In tacit silence they made their way back to the Bell, their footsteps echoing in the dark. Jason seemed to be on the alert, leaving Caithren to her own thoughts.
After supper, Jason would leave her in their room for a while to give her privacy while she changed into Mrs. Twentyman’s night rail. He’d return, remove his surcoat, loosen his clothes. She’d unplait and comb her hair, then reweave it into a single plait down her back. They’d climb into their separate beds. So it had gone almost every night.
But tonight felt different. Just thinking about sharing a room with Jason tonight made her legs go wobbly again. Remembering the touch of his lips, feeling his hand in hers, her whole body seemed afire.
“Let’s go into the stables,” he said, interrupting her thoughts.
“Why?” As they turned off the High Street alongside the inn, her mind raced with possibilities—mostly ones that made her blush. Some stables had nice lofts. “Are you worried for Chiron?”
“No. I want to make sure the Gothards aren’t staying here.”
“Oh.” When disappointment flitted through her, she told herself she was being ridiculous. Of course his mind wasn’t on kissing—he’d convinced himself they were being followed by a murderer.
He drew her into the Bell’s stables and quickly paced the length, looking into every stall.
Pulled along by the hand, Caithren hurried to keep up. “Do you reckon the brothers are so poor they’ll be sleeping in stables?”
“Not exactly.” Reaching the end, he
