“And your secondary goal?” He held his breath.
“Using my Gift.”
Always the bloody Gift. Either she had no idea it was killing him to stay away from her, or she simply didn’t care. He wasn’t sure which was worse, but both thoughts soured his mood. “Then why aren’t you using it right now?”
She shot him an annoyed look. “First of all, my head is still pounding from having touched Susan. Secondly, the Gift isn’t for spying and crime solving.”
“Then what’s it for?”
“Helping the less fortunate.”
“Won’t it be unfortunate when I hang for a crime I didn’t commit?”
“Thetrulyless fortunate.”
“The truly less fortunate?” This time when the kite began to dip, he shoved the spool of twine into her hands. “Who told youthathorseshit?”
“My mother,” she said, then sprinted a few feet to regulate the kite’s flight.
“Well, mothers aren’t always the brightest stars in the sky,” he called out, not bothering to chase after her.
She turned and scowled at him. “My mother was an angel!”
“Fine, so now sheisthe brightest star in the sky.” He pointed heavenward when the kite began to dip again. She raced back toward him, frantically coiling twine. He caught her before she collided with his chest. “That doesn’t mean I understand how ‘helping the less fortunate’ precludes helpingme.”
Her eyes widened. “I am helping you.”
“You’re talking about helping me, but you’re not actually helping me. And I want to know why. According to my staff—and yes, I did interview them once I realized they knew more about you than I did—you’ve helped a few ofthemwhen they wanted something. Retrieving lost articles and so on.” He wasn’t sure whether her guilty expression made him feel vindicated or defeated. “Then what’s wrong withme?”
“What’s wrong with you? You’re coercing my help by threatening me!”
“Oh, so if I would’ve justaskedyou to prove my innocence, you would’ve done so with alacrity?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t believe you.”
She shoved the spool of twine into his chest. The kite careened from the sky, spearing into the earth a few yards from their feet and splintering on contact. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“I’m calling you naïve. And a liar.” He tossed the spool to the ground, grabbed her by the shoulders, and leaned forward until his nose brushed against hers. “There’s something you’re not telling me, and I want to know what it is,” he insisted quietly. “Why do you use this Gift of yours more freely with some people than others?”
Miss Pemberton glared up at him, stony-faced, but did not twist from his grasp.
He leaned closer until his words breathed against the side of her cheek. “All right, then, answer me this: Why do you use it at all?”
“Because,” she bit out, “I can’t separate myself from it. No matter how I might wish it otherwise, Iamthe cursed Gift.” She jerked her head away from his, then pounded his chest with her fist. “I cannot link hands or tend the ill or coddle infants or anything else that requires touching. Which means I cannot do anythingbutuse the Gift, whether I want to or not.” She took a deep, hitching breath and shuddered in his arms. “To use it on purpose, for people of my choosing, for reasons of my choosing—my freedom of choice is the one thing that makes it tolerable, the one thing that makes living with such an affliction worth it. My only sliver of free will.”
“Er…” came a nervous female voice. “Am I interrupting?”
Goddamnthat infuriating Stanton chit!
“Yes,” Gavin roared. “Yes, you’re interrupting. Go away.”
The Stanton chit reeled backward, but the damage was done—Miss Pemberton spun out of his arms and fled.
While Gavin organized the collection of the kites and ushered everyone to the side lawn bearing the pall-mall wickets, Miss Pemberton cloistered herself well out of speaking distance. He hadn’t been able to catch her attention, much less catch her alone. And with his guests in such high spirits after an hour of kite-flying, it was impossible for him to break away from their shining eyes and flushed faces and incessant chatter about the perfect breeze and cunning kites.
That was when Gavin realized a shocking fact: they weren’t just blathering at him, they were smiling at him. Including him. Complimenting him. Welcoming him into their circle quite literally, as they surrounded him while bubbling over with which color of kite looked most stunning against the blue of the sky and who had managed to keep theirs up the longest and did everyone witness Edmund tumble over that stone and get himself tangled up in twine?
