Page 23 of Unmasking the Earl

When he took her by the elbow, she feared the worst. Then why wasn’t she screaming and shouting for Wycherley or one of the footmen to rescue her?

She barely had time to register where she was going as the brute dragged her to the end of the corridor, through the kitchen, and into a tiny scullery with a lead-lined sink at one end.

When he closed the door behind them, she readied herself for another tirade.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, he held her by the shoulders and captured her gaze with his. “What has that damned libertine done now? Just say the word, and I’ll teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.”

Cassie gaped up at him, struck with sudden insight. He wasn’t angry with her. He was angry at Wycherley.

She swallowed hard. Now they were in close proximity, she once again felt the lure of this man’s powerful body. And the fact that he was prepared to champion her made him almost…admirable. The urge to cling to him and accept the comfort of his arms was close to overwhelming her.

She shook the thought away. Julian. This was all about Julian. Soon, if all went according to plan, it would be his arms that were offered in comfort, his fists that were prepared to do battle for her—although she sincerely hoped the need would never arise.

The idea of Ganstridge chasing into the parlor and spilling Wycherley’s blood on the rug was not a pleasant one. Even though the captain had won honor at Waterloo, he had not the muscle to best his strapping servant.

She forced a smile, saying, “Oh, it was nothing. I’m being foolish.”

“This whole enterprise of yours is foolish,” Ganstridge replied. “But I’ve already told you that. Perhaps now you realize how dangerous being alone with a man can be?”

She blinked, uncertain for a moment if he was referring to himself, or to Wycherley. Both of them had managed to set her heart pounding, but for very different reasons.

“I know I’m taking a risk,” she said, looking away. His gaze was far too penetrating. And disturbing.

“Then stop doing it,” he said simply. “Put it all behind you and hope no one ever finds out. If you use Wycherley’s idea of courtship to win your ideal man, you’ll end up with a lover, but not with a husband.”

Her heart fluttered on hearing the word “lover” on his lips. He was certainly very blunt. And completely out of order.

It was a mystery why she wasn’t more furious with him. And why the feel of his hands on her shoulders was so…distracting.

“I appreciate your concern,” she said. “I think you mean well, despite the abominable way you’ve behaved toward me. But don’t worry. I’m learning how to handle Wycherley.”

She’d learned a lot about men in general in the process. Although, this one was still an enigma.

His fingers tightened on her. “You really think this man, the one you deem perfect for you, is worth ruining your reputation for? Could you not simply forget him and look elsewhere for a husband?”

She bit her lip. Of course Julian was worth it. She hadn’t spent most of her teenage years crying into her pillow over him to let a silly little thing like modesty get in the way.

“There’s no need to look elsewhere for a husband when I’ve already found the man I love,” she said firmly. “I’ve received offers from others, but none of those men were superior to Julian.”

Ganstridge’s hands slid to her elbows, and he pulled her toward him. Speaking softly with his head close to hers, he said, “I think you’ll find the world is full of men superior to Mr. Julian Carnforth, if only you were prepared to open your eyes.”

She stared up at him, puzzled. His face had softened, and there was an appeal in his look she’d never seen before. His eyes bored into her, soul-deep, questioning, stunned and—surely not—vulnerable?

His closeness was making her insides knot up, and her nerves were completely on edge. It was a struggle to tear her eyes from his firm, masculine mouth and to stop herself from wondering how a kiss from Mr. Ganstridge would compare to that kiss from Captain Wycherley.

Totally lacking refinement, no doubt. Rough and raw, but…possibly all-consuming. Something beat in this man’s breast which she had not experienced with Wycherley, nor yet seen evidence of in Julian.

Passion.

“I could teach you,” he said, so quietly she could barely hear him. “But with me, it would be real.”

Her heart spurred to a gallop. She sucked in a breath in an effort to calm herself.

His chest heaved as he did the same.

Her head spun as his lips drew closer to hers.