The kitten did not budge. Phoebe squinted up into the branches as Lilli began mewing again. The wind rustled through the tree and Lilli’s meows grew more frantic as she clung tightly to the swaying branch.
There was nothing for it. Phoebe would have to rescue her furry baby. She sighed and reached for a branch, testing its strength. “Very well, Lilli. I will come save you.”
After gathering her skirts around her waist, she hoisted herself into the tree, then shook her head, both amused and annoyed. Perhaps she should ask Papa to build her a tree house, for she certainly was spending a lot of time in trees. This would be her second time climbing one in a fortnight.
Mother would have a nervous attack if she knew about it, for ladies simply did not climb trees. But Phoebe did many things her mother insisted ladies not do. It was not that she set out to break the rules, for she most certainly did not. However, mischief tended to follow her—even more so since her sister’s Rebecca and Daphne had married, leaving Phoebe alone at the family estate.
The kitten set loose another round of haunting meows, and Phoebe looked into its golden eyes. “All will be well. Just stay where you are. Please do not climb any higher,” she pleaded as she studied the branches jutting out between them. Paying no mind to her gloves, she reached for the next branch.
Her pulse quickened as the cat repositioned itself, then wriggled precariously on its perch. “Only a bit farther,” she soothed. “I nearly have you.”
“What the devil is going on?” a deep voice called up after Phoebe.
She stilled, not quite able to place the voice but finding something undeniably familiar about it. Using caution, she glanced down to see who had come upon her. Her gaze met a golden-haired gentleman with broad shoulders and laughing green eyes.
Phoebe’s heart skipped a beat, her pulse racing.
The rogue—the one from the ball, the one who had kissed her, stared up at her—his green gaze full of amusement and a slight grin tilting his full lips.
How many times over the past fortnight had she fantasized about him? Dreamed of their kisses? Imagined herself in his arms again? He had been haunting her day and night since their chance encounter and reckless tryst at Daphne’s masquerade ball.
Even now, her lips tingled at the memory.
And here he was—standing before her, looking even more handsome than she remembered.
She peered down through the branches. How had he come to be here? In Northumberland? Her anger flared. The nerve of him to appear here—to reappear in her life at all. Phoebe scowled down at him and demanded, “What are you doing here?”
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. Recognition unfurled in his captivating, green gaze, and his little grin turned into a wicked smile. “You seem to have a habit of finding yourself in trees. May I inquire as to your reason for this afternoon’s climb?”
She glared at him, more than a little vexed by his teasing. “You may do so, but I shall not answer.”
Meow…meow…
Much to Phoebe’s dismay, the kitten had answered for her. She bit her bottom lip as she glanced up at Lilli. She did not have time to waste chatting with the scoundrel. Her kitten needed her. Paying him no further attention, she hoisted herself onto the next branch.
“Cats are natural climbers. The little beast will come down when it sees fit.”
Phoebe shot him a heated glance. “Your opinion is not needed.”
Seemingly unaffected by her ire, he continued, “You, however, are ill-equipped for the activity. Do come down before you get hurt.” His gaze roamed over her body. “Or ruin your lovely stockings.”
Phoebe’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she would not give in to his commands. “My stockings are none of your concern.” She climbed to the next branch, then stretched her arm out to reach for Lilli. Her fingers found the cat’s silken fur. “Forgive me,” she soothed as she closed her fingers tightly around the kitten’s scruff.
Meow. The kitten cried its protestation as it wriggled, its feet scrambling against the open air while its tail fluffed up.
Phoebe brought the kitten to her chest and held it firmly against her. “Shh… I’ve got you, Lilli. You are safe now.” She moved her fingers back and forth over Lilli’s fur, soothing the kitten as much as herself.
When Lilli relaxed against her, Phoebe smiled down at the scoundrel, who still stared up at her. “See, all is well. There is no need for you to remain here.”
He shook his head, his eyes flashing with something Phoebe could not quite name—anger, worry, perhaps both. “Stay where you are. I will come get the cat.”
“The devil you will,” she called back to him. “Lilli is already frightened and I will not have you scaring her worse.”
“My concern is for you.” His expression softened, all teasing fled from his gaze. “The beast is likely to become more frightened once you start moving. If it does, climbing down will be exceedingly harder than going up was.” His eyes seemed to plead with her. “Allow me to help?”
Perhaps she was being foolish, but Phoebe could not stop herself. She did not desire the rogue’s aid. What difference did it make if he stared at her with concern in his swoon-worthy eyes?
None—none at all.
