Page 28 of To Follow her Heart

She took his hand, marvelling at how much bigger it was now, how strong and capable. Her own appeared slight and delicate in comparison. Kitty lifted it to her mouth, pressing her lips to the back where the skin was bronzed from the sun, his freckles darker patches against the gold.

He stared at her, a look on his face that made something inside her quiver with anticipation. She’d always thought him handsome, but she’d never experienced appreciation of his looks with the heat of desire burning under her skin. It burned now, though, hot and needy.

“For God’s sake, don’t look at me like that,” he said, the words somewhere between a curse and a tremor of laughter. “I promised St Clair I’d be a gentleman, word of honour. Don’t make me a cad, I beg you.”

She laughed but took pity on him and walked on. She knew there was time now, time for desire and stolen kisses. While a part of her wanted to rush headlong into the future and make up for all the lost years, she knew the value of waiting to get what you wanted. How sweet it was.

When she’d heard his voice and known in her heart that it was him, she’d been overwhelmed with joy. So, kisses and stolen touches would tease and torment them in the most delicious way, for now. They were her weapons against his fears and doubts, a reminder of what he fought for and why, and something Lady Frances did not have, for all her beauty, and her father’s wealth and power.

Kitty’s father had once told her that you must use the weapons at hand to your best advantage when in business, and not regret those you did not have. It had been a rare moment when he’d spoken to her of his work and his battle to succeed, and she’d not understood at the time.

Now… she thought perhaps she did.

Chapter 8

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

―Excerpt of an entry from Miss Harriet Stanhope, to her diary.

21st August 1814, Holbrooke House, Sussex.

Jasper regarded the young man riding beside him. Mr Baxter was deep in thought, which was hardly surprising.

“You’re going to fight for her,” he said, finding a grin curve over his mouth.

Baxter turned his head, as though he’d forgotten Jasper was there at all, but his lips quirked in the semblance of a smile.

“Yes, she’s leading me off a cliff and into a raging sea, and not for the first time,” he said, amusement and something like pride in the words.

“Good for her,” Jasper said with approval.

He’d been certain Miss Connolly had persuaded Baxter; the satisfied look in her dark eyes had told him that much. If perhaps he’d gloated a little and sent Harriet a smug look of triumph, he could hardly be blamed for it.

Mr Baxter regarded him more closely then, curiosity in his eyes. “Why do you care?” he asked, and Jasper felt the weight of his scrutiny. “Because you do, don’t you? You stood up for Kitty when no one else in their right mind would do so.”

“Are you suggesting I’m touched in the upper works?” Jasper remarked, with the nonchalant lift of one eyebrow. He’d rather not consider his own motivation too much, let alone discuss it.

Baxter chuckled. “No more than I, but….” His blue eyes were suddenly intent. “Yes,” he said, letting out a breath. “Of course. It’s the same manner of madness that’s afflicted us both. I can see it now.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Jasper tried to make the question cool and aloof, a warning not to probe any deeper, but it didn’t come out right and Baxter’s face softened with something that looked horribly like compassion. Jasper looked away but felt the sudden urge to unburden himself, to confess his darkest secret—the one he’d hidden for so damn long—for what felt like an eternity.

“Is she unsuitable?” Baxter asked, his voice full of sympathy.

Jasper gave up as a bark of laughter escaped him. “No, not in the least. Indeed, it would make both of our families very happy.”

“Then why—?”

“She hates me,” Jasper said, the words escaping him before he could think about the wisdom of baring his soul to a stranger, when he’d never told his closest friend.

Then again, as his best friend was her brother, that wasn’t terribly surprising.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did she always hate you?”

Jasper allowed himself to remember a day when Harriet hadn’t hated him, a day when she’d seemed to like him very well, before everything changed.