His offhand touches and occasional fleeting kisses never failed to set her ablaze, igniting her curiosity and desire for more. Yet she never quite forgot her fear.
She presumed he understood that too, as he did not touch her in bed. Though he insisted on sharing, he left her alone, which, in its own way, she found every bit as frustrating.
She hadn’t come by much sleep since he’d been home.
“I think we should check on the barn,” he said. “See how the roof is coming along.”
She yawned again, then shook herself awake. “I’ll race you.”
He was off without another word.
She kicked Pandora into a gallop after him. His tawny gelding had a head start, but she slowly gained on him until they were neck and neck. She took gulps of the rushing air, feeling it revive her, enjoying the pace, the wind in her hair, the thrill of competition. When Pandora passed the barn first, ahead of Chaucer by a nose, she laughed triumphantly.
“Good girl, Pandora,” she cooed, patting the mare’s deep-brown neck.
“You won,” Trick conceded with a grin. He slid off his horse, coming close. “Why did you name her Pandora?”
“Simple.” Craftily Kendra dismounted on the far side. “Like the Greek goddess opening her box of problems, she leads me into trouble.”
She started toward the barn, but he rounded Pandora and easily caught up to her. “Leads you into trouble, does she?”
“All the time. She led me to you, didn’t she?” With his hand on her arm, Kendra had little choice but to stop. She turned to meet his eyes. “Trouble.”
“That was her fault, aye?”
“Yes, it must have been. I certainly didn’t head for Amberley on purpose.”
“And are you sorry?”
Trapped in his amber gaze, she shook her head. “No,” she whispered.
“Neither am I.”
Kendra’s heart beat double-time when he took her face between his hands. His fingers were warm, and so was his breath as he leaned in for a kiss.
“Amberley!”
Trick’s hands dropped from her cheeks, and they both looked up to see a carriage approaching. A florid man stuck his head out the open window. “We’ve come to pay our respects,” the man called. “To you and your lovely bride.”
“Garrick,” Trick muttered under his breath. “And Fielding, Faraday, and Milner, I’m guessing.” The carriage rolled to a stop, and sure enough, four men climbed out.
Kendra recognized all of them—minor aristocrats who lived in the vicinity. Though they weren’t important enough to have been on her brothers’ list of potential husbands, country life was insular, and she’d met them at various entertainments over the years. Just last summer she’d danced with Fielding and Milner at Jason and Cait’s wedding celebration ball. She’d found Fielding rather charming in a bumbling sort of way, but Milner’s breath had smelled like overaged cheese.
“Good day, gentlemen,” Trick said. “Welcome.”
He didn’t sound like he meant it.
Garrick walked over to pump Trick’s hand. “Congratulations, congratulations.”
He had a big round head and a belly to match. Apparently he needed to fill it, because when he took out his pocket watch and flipped it open, his flabby lips broke into a grin.
“We’re just in time for supper, are we not?”
NINETEEN
“TRICK?” KENDRA murmured, awakened by the soft sounds of her husband moving about the bedchamber. Her eyes fluttered open to glimpse his gold hair haloed by the morning sun that streamed through the window.
Turning, he smiled and came close, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. “You fell asleep on me last night,” he accused, straightening and disappearing into the dressing room.
“Did I?” She stretched beneath the covers. “I don’t remember a thing past supper.”
“You nodded into your chicken cullis.” His voice sounded muffled, then stronger as he strode back into the room, carrying a pair of boots and a surcoat. “And I’d thought you were enjoying our impromptu party.”
“And the cullis was so good,” she recalled.
He grinned. “You only liked it so much because it was sweet.”
“I don’t expect I made a good impression. Are those men really your friends?”
“Aye, and your brothers’ friends, too.” He sat on a tufted velvet chair to pull on the boots. “We all play whist once a month.”
“The mysterious weekend house parties.” More secrets. This man was so evasive, she wondered if she’d ever truly come to know him. “Why do men have to be so secretive?” she said more darkly than she intended.
But he didn’t seem to notice. “Harmless games,” he answered with a shrug. “Did you not like the fellows?”
“Faraday is a terrible flirt, especially given he’s married. Fielding is agreeable enough, but never quite seems to know what he’s about. Garrick is rather strange, is he not? He couldn’t seem to stay seated, always seemed to be poking around. I wonder what he could have been looking for? And Milner wears entirely too much scent. He should think about taking a bath instead.”
His gaze on her, Trick rose. “Very astute. I couldn’t have summed them up so succinctly, and I’ve socialized with them for months. You were with them naught but a couple of hours.”
She shrugged. “L’amitié ferme les yeux.”
“Beg pardon?”
“Friendship closes its eyes,” she translated. “It’s an old French saying I used to hear on the Continent.”
“Ah. Quite so.”
She watched him shrug into the surcoat. “What do you see in those men?”
“Money. They always lose.” He grinned as he slid his sword into his belt, then took a pistol from atop the dressing table, hefting it before arming himself with it as well. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” He came to her, bending for one more kiss, soft and lingering, before he straightened once again. “Rest up.”
With a muted click, the door closed behind him, and she listened to his footsteps retreat down the corridor. It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when she replayed his words—and his kisses—in her mind, that she realized he’d been wearing all black.
HE WAS GETTING close. With any luck, this would be
