“He was being…”
He trailed off, and she saw the uncertainty, the frustration…Wasn’t that marvelous? she thought suddenly. Oh, not that he was unhappy, of course, or at least not entirely—he did look rather adorable at the moment—but that she could actually tell that he was unhappy. He’d grown more at ease with expressing his emotions, and she more adept understanding them.
“Would it help,” she asked softly, “if I were to tell you that my interest in Mr. Hunter stems from his interest in Kate?”
He considered that. “It might…Does it?”
“Yes.” When he said nothing, merely grunted in a noncommittal, perhaps-I’ll-give-it-some-thought sort of way, she gathered her courage and stepped closer. “I was disappointed when you left the room.”
Again, the grunt.
She reached up to finger one of the buttons on his waistcoat. “I nearly paid for the distraction with my king.”
His lips twitched. “Did you?”
“Mm-hm.” Her eyes caught on his mouth. She did so dearly love the way he expressed himself with that mouth—the half smiles, the subtle frowns, the heated kisses. She stepped closer, until she was pressed against him. Slowly, she stood on tiptoe, letting her breasts brush his chest. “I do believe you owe me a—”
He hauled her into his arms and sealed his mouth over hers. Evie let herself fall into the excitement of the kiss, allowed herself to revel in the feel and taste of him. But she knew it couldn’t last.
“Mrs. Summers,” she breathed when he broke the kiss to trail his lips down the side of her neck.
“What?”
“She’s in the parlor.” Directly down the hall. “She could come in.”
He stilled, swore, and stepped away.
They stood there, breathless, staring at each other with pounding hearts.
Suddenly, McAlistair grinned. “It was my turn to clean the dishes this morning.”
“Er…I see.”
“Haven’t got “round to it yet.”
“Oh, I see.” And this time, she really did. “Would you care for a bit of help?”
“Wouldn’t mind.”
She fought a bubble of laughter the entire way to the kitchen, but gave up the fight the moment they were inside. “This is outrageous.”
McAlistair’s answer was to back her against the wall and begin where they’d left off in the library.
Her skin heated, her heart melted, and all thought spun away.
Until a vaguely familiar and wholly unexpected male voice said, “Well, isn’t this a naughty bit of business?”
McAlistair swung around, throwing an arm up to keep Evie from stepping out from the protection of his body. He needn’t have bothered; she’d frozen in shock at the sound of the voice.
“Ah, ah, ah,” it drawled from somewhere in front of McAlistair. “Keep your hands where I can see them, McAlistair. There we are. Now step away from the girl.”
McAlistair didn’t move.
“Step away, or I’ll blow a hole through the both of you. I’ve heard a shot to the gut is Hell’s own way to go. Would you like that for her?”
McAlistair’s fury was palpable. He was standing perfectly still, just as he’d been at the blacksmith’s, but the muscles of his back were bunched and strained. Tremors too small to be seen rippled along his skin. She could feel them through his waistcoat, where her hands rested beneath his shoulders.
She wanted to tell him it would be all right, almost as much as she wanted him to tell her the same—he was in a better position to know, after all.
Slowly, McAlistair stepped aside, giving Evie her first look at their assailant. His clothes bore the unsightly wrinkles and dust of travel and his usually tidy blond hair stuck out from his head in great tufts, but there was no denying, or mistaking, the handsome Byronlike features of John Herbert, the footman from Haldon Hall. Lizzy had pointed them out ad nauseam.
Her mind whirled with questions, but before she could open her mouth to speak, he turned cold blue eyes on her. “Miss Cole, if you would be so kind as to move a bit to your left?”
Moving left required she step in front of a small hutch against the wall. And that meant moving a step nearer to Herbert. “I…”
“Do as he says, Evie,” McAlistair said softly.
Yes, well, that was rather easy for him to say. Battling every natural instinct to move away from the dueling pistol pointed at her, she stepped closer to Herbert. And saw the butt of a second pistol protruding from his coat pocket.