The moment her name was said, Phoebe seemed to lose all shyness. She bolted into the room at full speed past Kit and launched herself onto the bed and into Sarah’s arms. He wondered if she should be so rough, but held his tongue and stepped away a fraction as the two embraced.
She cuddled into Sarah’s arms, and they stayed that way for a short while. Silent as they bonded in a way that didn’t require words.
Finally Phoebe glanced up into her face and whispered, “I’m glad Lucas saved you.”
Sarah’s expression softened. “As am I. And that the Duke of Tyndale saved you. We were both very lucky.”
Phoebe worried her lip. “It was my fault, Sarah.”
Kit kept his gaze on Sarah even as he tried to pretend he was not paying attention. There was no anger on her face, no blame. Just love. Just everything he would ever want for his sister.
“It was an accident,” Sarah said gently. “You didn’t mean to capsize the boat. I know that.”
“We will never go in the boat again,” Phoebe said solemnly. “Or the lake.”
Kit expected that Sarah would agree to that suggestion. Right now it seemed fine enough to him. He would burn that damned boat if it hadn’t already sunk to the bottom of the lake.
But to his surprise, Sarah shook her head. “Oh no, sweetling. We mustn’t be afraid of things, that is no way to live. What we must do is to learn from our mistakes. You learned a great deal today, I would think.”
Phoebe was nodding. “Oh yes. Not to stand in the boat.”
“Exactly right,” Sarah said, smoothing a lock of hair away from Phoebe’s forehead. “And to listen, yes?”
“And not to have a tantrum when I’m sad.” Phoebe glanced at Kit swiftly. “Kit says I can talk to him or to you.”
“A very good idea.” She glanced over at Kit and her expression was unreadable. Certainly he couldn’t tell what she was thinking about him now that he’d kissed her.
Something he wanted to repeat, especially since she looked so damn fetching in his shirt and in his bed. Just as pretty as she’d looked at any fancy ball over the years.
He swallowed those feelings and stepped up to the bed. “Phoebe, we must let Miss Sarah rest now. And you must rest, too. If you go to your room, I’ll come tuck you in for a sleep.”
Phoebe’s lips pinched, and for a moment he thought she might protest. Then she glanced at Sarah and nodded. “Yes, Kit.”
She leaned up to kiss Sarah’s cheek, then scuttled down from the bed and out of the room. To his chagrin, she left the door open rather than shut it. Which meant more kissing was out.
Probably for the best, but it didn’t change the unexpected desire that still boiled inside of him.
“I shouldn’t stay in your bed, Your Grace.”
“Kit,” he said softly. “And staying in my bed is exactly what you will do, Sarah, until Diana says you are free to get up.”
Her lips parted. “Your Grace—”
“Kit. Women who save my sister and who I kiss so thoroughly do not call me Your Grace.” He leaned in and brushed her cheek with his thumb, watching how her pupils dilated with pleasure at the touch. “Please.”
“Kit,” she whispered, like she was trying it out. Testing it. Then she shook her head. “I will stay for a while.”
“Good.” He backed away from her and headed for the door. There he stopped and turned back. “Oh, and Sarah?”
She glanced over at him. “Yes?”
“I’m not going to sack you. You should put that out of your mind.”
Relief flowed over her features instantly and stoked guilt in his belly. She had truly been terrified of that outcome, and obviously for a long time.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“But I do not promise that I won’t kiss you again,” he added. “Provided you give me permission.”
