But how?
Concerned, she leaned closer, sweeping sweat-damp hair from his forehead. Flowers of Scotland overwhelmed him. She was close, so close. He could almost taste her—
No, he couldn’t do this. Not this time, not this way.
He needed to tell her.
He couldn’t tell her.
Not telling her was a lie.
But though he knew he’d pay for the lie, he couldn’t seem to find the words.
Still she moved closer…
CAIT KNEW THE moment he gave in.
He pulled her closer, bringing her mouth down to his. His kiss wasn’t angry or hesitant—instead it was sweetly cherishing. It seemed as though the whole of his attention was focused on that kiss, as if, for that moment, nothing else existed in his world.
The sheer intensity frightened her. She’d wondered if the magic of that stormy night was repeatable, but now she was afraid to learn the answer.
If it were yes…how would she ever find it in herself to leave him?
Not that he would ask her to stay.
The truth brought a pang to her heart. But then he rolled and took her with him, and she ended up in his bed with him gazing down at her, his eyes deep green in the hazy dawn light.
“Jase…” She wrapped her arms around him, her hands ranging all over his back, and he kissed her again, kissed her until she found herself a melting mass of sensation. And still he kissed her.
A long while later, he sighed and moved his lips to her forehead. “Your arm?”
“It’s fine.” She drew back enough to smile into his clear green eyes. “You made me forget all about it.”
He grinned, then groaned as his gaze wandered to the now-bright window. “We’d best get some breakfast and ride into London to warn Scarborough.”
“Aye,” she agreed on a sigh.
“Say it again.” Smoothing the hair off her face, he kissed her softly. “My name.”
She frowned. “Jason?”
“The other.”
“Oh.” Her heart swelled. “Jase.”
“It sounds right from you, sweet Cait,” he said before claiming her lips once more.
FIFTY-SIX
“NUMBER TWELVE. Is that it?” Two hours later Caithren indicated a brand new three-story house at the edge of St. James’s Fields. “Crivvens, but Scarborough lives well. No wonder Adam aims to be his friend.”
Adam. The man’s name made Jason’s gut twist. Swallowing hard, he helped Cait down—mindful of her arm—and tethered their horses.
“Someone else is here,” she said as they started up the gravel drive. “Or rather, leaving.”
A fat-bellied gentleman with an unfashionable brown beard turned from the town house’s front door and headed down the steps. Jason nodded at him, but the man didn’t acknowledge the gesture, avoiding his gaze as they passed.
“Who do you suppose that was?” Jason muttered as the man hurried away.
Cait shrugged. “Why does it matter?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling.” The same niggling feeling he’d had when the Gothards were close by. Shaking it off, he led Cait up to the tall, imposing door.
Their knock brought an aging maidservant to answer. She bobbed a curtsy, her gray curls bouncing beneath a dainty white lace cap. “My lord?”
“I’ve a matter to discuss with Lord Scarborough. Of some urgency.”
“Cuds bobs, you’re the second in as many minutes. As I told the other gentleman, Lord Scarborough has left town. He’s expected back just in time to attend Lord Darnley’s wedding tomorrow.”
“That’s where Adam will be!” Caithren said excitedly.
Frowning, Jason waved her off. “Who was the other man?”
“I don’t rightly know,” the maid said. “He didn’t introduce himself.”
The niggle returned. “Could he have been Geoffrey Gothard?”
Caithren made a sound suspiciously like a snort, and the maidservant let out a short bark of a laugh before composing herself. “Not hardly. You wouldn’t be asking that if you’d seen him.” She brushed at her apron. “Mr. Gothard won’t be showing his face around here, in any case. Not if Lord Scarborough has any say in the matter.”
“He won’t be showing his face,” Jason repeated under his breath. The man hadn’t looked him in the face, either. “Have you an address to reach Lord Scarborough?”
“No, my lord, we do not. Lord Scarborough will be here tomorrow. That is all I have to tell you.”
“I sent him a very important letter last week.” His arm stole around Cait’s waist. Had it been but a week since he’d met her? Eight or nine days, if he was remembering right, but it felt like a lifetime had passed. “Might you know if Lord Scarborough received it?”
The older woman’s expression was implacable. “I’m not privy to Lord Scarborough’s personal matters. And his secretary went with him.”
Knowing he’d get no more out of her, he sighed. “I thank you.”
“My lord.” With a curtsy, she shut the door in their faces.
Dejected, he stood there a minute, then turned with Cait to head back to their borrowed horses.
“I wonder if the other man learned more,” she said.
“He could hardly have learned less. But I cannot shed the feeling that man might have been Gothard, or maybe Wat, or—”
“Have you eyes in your head?” A giggle burst out of her. “It wasn’t Geoffrey or Wat.”
“It could have been someone they hired.”
“It could have been anyone. Do you know many of Lord Scarborough’s acquaintances?”
“None,” he admitted.
“Then it could have been a friend. Or a merchant. Or a solicitor. And even if it were someone the Gothards hired, you just said the man didn’t learn any more than we did.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “Judging from that maidservant’s attitude, neither will anyone else.”
“True enough. Which means no one will learn where to find Scarborough today, any more than we have a clue where to find Geoffrey Gothard.”
Maybe she was right. Sometimes a niggle was only a niggle. “Well, I hope Scarborough got my letter, in which case he’s already been warned. But on the chance he didn’t, I’ll come by here again tomorrow.”
“We can do it on the way to the wedding.” Toward the end of the gravel drive, her feet slowed, then stopped. “If you’re willing to take me,
