“Well played, Miss Addison. Well played,” Mr. Balfour said. He leaned against a tree not more than five feet away, her shepherd’s crook in his hand.
Chapter Seven
At the sound of his voice, Kate Addison jumped like a schoolboy caught in a prank, and Bran smiled, pleased.
It was dark on this side of the building. However, Kate stood outlined against the barn’s white walls. There had been no mistaking her disarray. What little moonlight was here highlighted the naked curve of her breast.
Images of Kate entwined in his sheets shot to his mind. God, he had dreamed of her breasts—
Bran stepped back into the shadows as something on him grew prominently, puttinghimin disarray. Who knew what Kate would do if she knew she still held power over him?
Sounds of what had become a brawl came from the front of the building where it had apparently spilled out into the front yard. Horses in the care of servants or the local lads called out alarms. The Reverend Summerall’s voice could be heard over the din shouting, “Order! Good order!”
However, here, it was quiet. They were hidden by the building, moonlit darkness, and a line of trees and shrubs.
Kate straightened, her stance defiant. She looked around as if realizing they were alone. “How did you know to find me here?”
“I saw you escape through that doorway. It is an old storage room with only that small door. I wondered if you would try it or be foolish enough to risk making your way through the crowd.”
She frowned in the direction of the noise at the front of the building. “I did not intend for this to happen. It isn’t my fault.” She spoke as if to herself.
He had to answer. “I don’t see why we can’t blame you. As I remember it, fights usually broke out around you.”
She glared at him then. He could feel the heat of her anger through the cool night air. “That was many, many years ago. And I did not startanyof those fights either. You gentlemen tore at each other all by yourselves. I also did not start this nonsense.”
“Next you will be telling me old Mrs. Warbler began everything.”
“Does she wear a wig?”
Bran had to smile, he couldn’t help himself. “The worst in the country.”
“Well... I won’t tell you what you don’t want to hear.” Kate shook off her skirts as if either ensuring she was all at rights or warding him off. Perhaps both. She began walking as if to leave him. He wasn’t ready for her to go.
It was a heady thing having her alone.
“Don’t you want your shepherd’s crook? I was tasked to watch it.”
She stopped, frowned, released her breath. “Yes, I do need it.” She held out her hand. “I’ll take it now.”
“Your manners, Miss Addison,” he chided. “Where is your gratitude?”
“You are an ass, Mr. Balfour.”
“There is a children’s story about a lovely princess who would say and do such ugly things toads would hop out of her mouth every time she went to speak.”
That caught her attention—and for a second, they both stood as if transported in time. Back then, he’d earned her attention by telling her stories. After her theater performances, he would linger by the building’s back door with all the other men besotted with her. Once, she’d paused in front of him. It was his chance to catch her notice. Instead of praising her beauty like everyone else, he’d surprised himself by blurting out a story. It was one ofAesop’s Fablesabout Venus and a cat. Bran collected stories. He found them charming.
His method of catching her attention had worked. From that evening on, she’d always stopped to hear a story from him.
But that was then.
“What are you saying about me, Mr. Balfour?” Knives had duller edges than her tone.
And his memories were dust, the sort of things evil witches used to trick men. “You knew coming to this dance with my nephew would stir the pot. You dressed provocatively, and, I will say, completely out of character, to do what? Set people’s teeth on edge? Give my poor dear sister a fit of apoplexy?” He paused and then added softly, “Humiliate my nephew? My family? Myself?”
Her hands curled into fists. He braced himself, ready for her ferocity. Kate spoke her mind.
Then, instead of giving him a lashing with her tongue, she drew a deep, shuddering breath. Her fingers straightened. “Go on with it, Brandon. Spill out all your venom toward me.” Her voice was quiet and hard. “Warn me off. Tell me I am not suitable. But don’t waste my time with your pettiness. Or pretend that you have done nothing to harm me.”
