Devil take it. He could swear he felt the heat of her breath through the layer of cloth. “So we look like we’re kite-flying, not…arguing. For God’s sake, woman, are you always this difficult?”
An impish smile curved across her face. “I think so, yes.”
“Bloody hell.” Gavin forced himself to back up so that his cock was at least a few inches from Miss Pemberton’s face. She leaned closer.
“I thought you’d want to sit with Susan.”
Gavin bent down, snatched up a kite, and stalked several feet from the pile. “Why the hell would I want that?”
Miss Pemberton sifted haphazardly through the remaining kites. “She’s rich, she’s beautiful, she’s Quality, she’s—”
“She’s not you.”
Her shoulders slumped. “No. She’s nothing like me.”
Gavin dropped his kite. He stalked back over to Miss Pemberton, hauled her to her feet, and grabbed her by the shoulders. “No. I mean,she’s not you.” He dropped his voice and leaned into her, until he was sure she knew exactly what he meant. “If we were alone, I’d show you precisely how you affect me, in ways the Stanton chit never could.”
She blushed, leapt away from him, busied herself with the kites. “We can’t be alone.”
He laughed. “Put down that kite and I’ll take you somewhere very alone.”
“Stop making me think about…that.”
“Mmm. I’m thrilled to know I make you think about ‘that.’ Care to define ‘that’ for me? Perhaps we can act it out.”
She tossed him what was no doubt supposed to be a glare, but the passion darkening her eyes told a different story. “I will never confess aloud the sort of thoughts you put in my head.” Her gaze dimmed. “What would be the point? I’ll be leaving soon, anyway.”
“All the more reason,” he said, infusing his voice with as much husky rakishness as he could muster.
She shook her head, unmoved by his best attempt at charm. A terrible seriousness replaced her earlier teasing look. “I’d like to leave today.”
“Today?” he choked, then cleared his throat. If she’d rather talk leaving than loving, fine. He could accommodate her either way. He gestured toward the fashionable coats and pelisses dotting the wide expanse of his front lawn. “Did you figure out which one of these ingrates wishes me to hang in their stead?”
“It could be anyone.” She stepped in front of him, presenting him with her back. “Except us.”
“Except us,” Gavin agreed softly. She was so close…It would be nothing to reach out, wrap his arms around her, tuck her body against his. Nothing but scandal. He stepped aside. “And the children. And Rose.”
She turned, handed him a bright orange kite, frowned. “I’m not entirely sure.”
“I told you—I can’t picture my sister murdering her own husband.” Gavin began to unwind a few feet of twine.
“Plenty of women would kill to escape their husbands. You cannot discount it.” Miss Pemberton squinted at him. “But that wasn’t who I meant.”
He stopped unraveling twine. “Not one of mynieces. They’re innocents!”
“Probably,” she agreed. “But can you swear it?”
“What do you think happened? The twins clubbed the rotter over his head with their doll?” He shook his head, laughed, ran forward a few yards until the brisk autumn breeze caught the orange fabric of the kite and lifted it into the air.
She ran with him for a while, watching the kite soar across the sky. And then: “Not the twins…Nancy.”
He stopped running.“Nancy?”
“Think about it.” Miss Pemberton plucked the twine from his hands, allowing the spool to bob and unroll with the will of the wind. “She’d want to hurt her father for the same reasons. He struck her mother. And what about the French tutor?”
Gavin hooked his thumbs in his waistband. “What French tutor?”
“The French tutor Lord Heatherbrook sent away for stealing his daughter’s heart.” Miss Pemberton darted forward to steady the kite. “And kisses.”
