Chapter Nine

T he Earl of Rossfarne leaned back in his chair and regarded her steadily. His chiselled features were illuminated by the dancing flames of the fire, but it was impossible for her to decipher the expression in his dark eyes.

It was hot in the solar. So very hot. A trickle of perspiration ran down her spine, beneath her plain woollen dress. Kitty wished she was wearing something lighter, less restrictive. She had summoned depths of passion and channelled them into her song, but now that it was over, those fierce emotions rampaged through her body with nowhere to go. Heat suffused her, bringing a flush to her chest and neck. Her hand went unwittingly to the buttons of her bodice. If she could only have a little air.

Something changed in the earl's expression as her fingers found the first button. He leaned forwards, gazing at her raptly and, as her eyes fixed upon his, Kitty's pulse sped up. They gazed at one another, across the narrow width of the room and a new, unfamiliar tension uncoiled inside her core.

Air, all she wanted was air. She remembered the low-cut dresses concealed within the chest and suddenly they didn't seem indecent anymore. As if her fingers had a life of their own, they undid the top button of her bodice, and it opened a fraction.

She felt some relief but not enough, not nearly enough. The heat of the room had found a home deep inside her and now it demanded release. She opened a second button, then a third. Now her dress was open in a deep V shape and her breasts strained at the remaining fabric.

The earl spoke up softly. His voice was as rich as velvet. "Don't stop."

She wouldn't stop. This was what she wanted. His eyes on her. Mayhap even his hands on her. They had sung together and laughed together. In that, he'd revealed his true soul and now she couldn't look at his finely carved, muscular body without a hot flush of desire shooting through her.

She undid the fourth button, such a tiny thing to have such significance, and her dress fell away from her shoulders, the bodice pooling around her waist. The earl sprang to his feet in a heartbeat, arms outstretched ready to gather her towards him. She closed her eyes in delicious anticipation of his touch…

Kitty sat up in horror. Her body was flushed and damp with sweat. Darkness surrounded her and it took a moment for her to realise that she was alone in her small, narrow bedchamber.

Alone, mercifully alone.

Her breath came hard and fast. What kind of madness had infected her sleep?

She put a hand to her neck, weak with relief to find her cotton chemise still in place. It had only been a dream. But what a dream. Her mind still raced. Her body still pulsed. If only she had slept just a little longer and experienced the joy of his warm hands upon her exposed flesh…

What was she thinking?

Kitty had never expected to experience passion or desire in her life. Such emotions were for other people, not for her. She'd long closed her mind to thoughts of romance, or even companionship with any man.

Especially a man so darkly handsome as the Earl of Rossfarne.

Kitty covered her face, embarrassed by her own thoughts and the sudden spirals of her cravings. Thank goodness she'd been allocated a single servant's room and there was no one present to witness her delirium.

She got out of bed and walked to the window, shunting open the shutters to let some fresh, sea air into the narrow chamber. She scooped up her long hair and held it away from her neck, enjoying the sudden rush of coolness. That was better. She had grown too hot in bed. Maybe that was the cause of her strange dream? That and the bewildering events of the night before.

Kitty squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't want to remember that sudden rush of happiness when their voices had joined in unison. Nor the leap of merriment in his dark eyes or how it had felt to abandon propriety and laugh together. Those feelings had been heady, sharp and unanticipated. For a moment, she'd almost forgotten her place as a servant. It had been like bygone times at Shoreston, giggling with Rosalind over some shared nonsense, secure as part of a tight-knit duo. Except her deep affection for her sister sprang from a different place entirely to this disturbing attraction for the earl.

Enough. She clenched her hands into tight fists, exhausted by her errant thoughts, only to find a far more painful memory creeping to the fore.

Her throat constricted as she recalled the closed expression on his chiselled face when she finally sang for him properly. She'd expected praise. Nay, she'd expected something more. Hoped, even, that the man sitting before her might experience the same tumult of emotions as she. But no. He'd all but dismissed her out of hand.

Her singing hadn't pleased him. She had the limited experience of a girl born and raised in a small fishing village, but Kitty had always been able to read people. Her skill had, to some degree, protected herself and Rosalind from the worst excesses of their father's drinking. The Earl of Rossfarne was in some way disappointed with her. Yet he had asked for her to sing for him again. What did that mean?

She fingered the buttons of her chemise, flushing once more to think of her wanton dream-self who had undressed under his scorching gaze. She was becoming as bad as the women of ill-repute who had acquiesced to the old earl's commands, only to be gossiped over and condemned come the next market day.

She clung to the windowsill and lowered her head to the incoming breeze, feeling once more the coolness of his appraisal.

"It was very pleasant," he'd said. Polite and disinterested when she had given him everything.

She remembered the revealing, low-cut dresses folded away in his solar. Imagined the women who had sung for him in the past. Beautiful women, delighted to be entertaining a knight of the realm. How had she ever imagined such a man would find pleasure in a plain, domesticated creature such as she?

Why did she care so much anyway? Her only duty at Rossfarne Castle was to recover her family jewels.

Nausea churned in Kitty's stomach. She had let herself and her sister down, revealing her lineage through her ill-advised singing. No low-born servant would know the song she had regaled him with last night. It was one she had learned from her music tutor. If the earl only put two and two together, he would surely begin to see through her falsehoods.

Nay, Kitty corrected herself. He already had. That was why he questioned her about her training. That was why he had requested her presence a second time. To confront her with the truth.

To claim her as his own.

"You belong to the Earl of Rossfarne."

Her body began to shake so violently she feared her legs might give way beneath her. She was scared, but fear was just one of many emotions coursing through her.

Could it be that a tiny part of her wanted to be claimed?

Swallowing hard, she gripped the windowsill and wrestled away her impure thoughts. This was no good. If she couldn't work in the castle unnoticed then she must leave. At first light. Before her subterfuge was uncovered.

Because everything had changed.

Until now, although she'd feared for her physical safety, she'd had faith in her wits and quick thinking. But if her mind were to become muddled with dark desires, who knew what traps she may walk into? Even willingly…

It was all becoming too dangerous.

For the rest of the night, she paced the wooden floor of her restrictive chamber, watching for the first rays of sunlight to penetrate the dark blanket of night. Weariness stole through her limbs, but she refused to give in to the ache of exhaustion, not when there was every possibility of her falling once more into such troubling dreams.

Would the earl look into her eyes and see the sinful thoughts spiralling around her mind? Would he know that she had unbuttoned her bodice and arched her body for his touch? The prospect was enough to make her stomach churn. How could she stand before him now?

She couldn't. She must leave. Again and again, she arrived at the same conclusion.

They would have to live without the jewels. So be it. If the rumours were true and the earl was impoverished, there was every chance he had already sold them. She turned this idea around in her mind and found it strangely pleasing. It released her from any obligation. She had tried her best, but had failed through no fault of her own.

There was no harm done. Not if she left today.

Kitty was a fisherman's daughter, and the rhythms of the tides were as familiar to her as the rise and fall of the sun. She knew the tide would be out just after dawn, leaving the causeway free. If she left now, she would be back at Shoreston Manor before Rosalind came down for breakfast. Her sister's pleasure at her unexpected return would outshine any disappointment over the jewels. Kitty knew this in her bones.

She dressed hurriedly in the simple gown she'd worn to come to Rossfarne Castle. She placed Lizzie's straw hat upon her head and breathed in the familiar fragrance of lavender from the dried sprigs their servant kept hung in her closet. It was the scent of home, so different to the sea salt and ancient stone which permeated the austere rooms of the castle. Kitty wondered how she had stayed away for so long.

Her stockinged feet would make no noise on the stone stairs. She slipped downwards through the blessedly quiet servants' quarters, holding her wooden pattens in her hand. No one had yet risen, though Kitty knew that Cook would soon be stumbling through the cavernous kitchen and beginning her daily chores.

She would miss Cook. In other circumstances she might try to say goodbye, but how could she explain her hasty departure?

No. It was best to leave unnoticed. To slip away, as if Kitty the chambermaid had never been.

She would be Miss Katherine again, to Alfred, Lizzie, and the occasional caller. At least, until the inevitable happened and they were compelled to leave Shoreston. But now she had experience to draw upon that would hold her in good stead for finding work elsewhere.

Lost in thought, she stumbled into the great hall and was brought up short by the sight of Thomas disappearing down the well. Kitty put a hand to her racing heart. Was she hallucinating? She stepped closer and peered down. No, without a doubt, that was Thomas's balding head she could see, making steady progress down the dark shaft of the well.

What was he doing?

On her arrival at the castle, Agnes had told her that this well had been positioned in the Great Hall in case they were ever under siege. Happily, such an event had never yet taken place and they drew all their water from the large well in the outer courtyard.

Was Thomas checking to see if this second water source had dried up?

Were they preparing for battle?

Kitty recalled the earl's summary of the castle's inhabitants. "No guards, no musicians, no entertainers." They had but the marshal and a few meagre stable hands to protect them. And the earl himself, a trained knight. But still, the odds seemed stacked against them withstanding any attack.

Her mind racing, Kitty stared into the depths of the well and jumped in surprise when Thomas's head and shoulders once again appeared. He was facing away from her towards the empty fireplace and she instinctively ran to hide behind a stone pillar.

Thomas heaved himself out of the well and placed his hands on his knees to recover his breath. His clothes were bone dry, but nonetheless he exuded an air of a man pleased with his findings. Kitty watched as he leaned back over the perimeter wall and brought up a coil of rope which he began to haul upon.

Whatever was on the end of the rope was far heavier than a mere bucket, for the man strained and moaned with effort. Eventually he tied the rope to an iron handle, braced himself and hauled up a great chest, so heavy he staggered under the weight of it.

Kitty's skin grew hot. This was a coin chest, much like the ones they kept in the cellar at Shoreston. Was it empty, as Agnes had foretold? Given the weight of it, she suspected not.

Thomas leaned down again and fetched up a second chest, then a third. By now, Kitty was regretting the impulse to hide. She couldn't cross the hall without drawing attention to herself, but if she didn't leave soon, the tides would be against her.

With four stout chests in a semi-circle around him, Thomas rubbed his hands together with glee. He glanced from left to right, checking his privacy, then squatted down and unlatched the nearest chest. The lid opened with a creak and Kitty couldn't help a gasp of surprise at the glittering array of jewels contained within. Thomas chuckled excitedly, reaching out to run his gnarled fingers over the sparkling gemstones.

She could almost believe there was treasure here fit for King Edward himself.

Kitty leaned against the pillar for support. Agnes had been wrong. The earl was rich beyond her wildest imaginings.

Thomas opened the next chest. This was filled with silver coin. Enough to pay an army of guards. Enough to fill Rossfarne Castle with music and dancing and lavish furnishings.

The earl was a miser then, like his uncle. Those glimmers of humanity she had seen were fake after all. He had taken her family's fortune without a second thought while all the time he had this wealth hidden down a well.

Her stomach churned as if she might be sick, and Kitty moaned as the pillar seemed to give way against her.

Thomas whipped his head round and spied her.

"You," he snarled. "I might have guessed."

He stalked across the stone-flagged floor towards her, his cruel face screwed up with a mixture of victory and displeasure.

Kitty tried her best to straighten up as the cold of the pillar brought her back to her senses. "I have done nothing wrong," she declared calmly.

"Oh no," he sneered. "You hide here and watch me reveal the whereabouts of his lordship's coin chests and then plead innocence?"

"I am not hiding. I am merely on my way to the kitchen." Kitty wasn't wearing her servant's garb, but she trusted Thomas would not notice. Thank goodness she had left her other belongings upstairs in her chamber. "You, however, were rifling through possessions that do not belong to you."

He flinched and she saw her wild aim had hit its mark. "You are an impudent chit," he stated. "I should have you flogged."

"Why not put that to the earl?" Her voice was brave and strong though inside she quailed. "And I shall tell him that I saw you opening a chest and examining its contents. Mayhap looking for something small that would not be missed."

Thomas visibly bristled, his small eyes flickering from left to right as he sought a defence. "You shall do no such thing."

"Nor shall you," she declared. "I suggest we both get on with our days. I, for one, have work to be doing."

Holding her head high, Kitty left the support of the pillar and walked towards the kitchen. She was conscious of Lizzie's straw hat, suddenly heavy on her head. How had Thomas not questioned her? It was too late now for her to leave the castle with the morning tides. She must stay at least until luncheon, which meant she must return to her bedchamber and change her clothes. But now she had set her course towards the lower floor and she couldn't alter it until Thomas had left the Great Hall.

By the time Kitty reached the kitchen, she was cold with indecision. The morning had lasted more than a day in terms of what she had witnessed. Her head still spun with surprise over the earl's unsuspected wealth. She wasn't prepared for the figure of Cook, already busily kneading the bread. Nor for the sound of a bell ringing outside.

"Kitty, thank goodness you're down early. Answer the door for me, please."

Kitty nodded her assent and pulled back the heavy bolts from the back door. Outside, bathed in fresh morning light, was a young delivery boy. Kitty blinked in surprise. Deliveries usually came to the castle by boat, but this child had obviously run across the causeway. Worry for his wellbeing clouded her already shattered mind. He must return soon or else risk being cut off.

He thrust a letter towards her. "Take this, please miss."

She found her voice. "I will," she said. "You must hurry back."

But the boy was already running as if a hound were after him, his blond curls bobbing on the back of his tunic. Though small, his legs ate up the ground easily. He would make it, she decided.

What a risk to take for a mere letter. She looked down at the folded paper for a name, but nothing was inscribed. She turned it over in her hands, noting the red candlewax and a seal as familiar to her as her own name.

Her mother's seal. The letter was from Shoreston. They hadn't addressed it to her. They'd just hoped she would recognise the seal. And thank goodness she had.

Hands trembling, Kitty ripped open the seal and unfolded the letter. It was from Rosalind. She would know her sister's careful hand anywhere.

Kitty's breath caught in her throat. She couldn't read it here. There was no one about, but that wouldn't be the case for long.

Kitty walked quickly across the yard and slipped into the old buttery, leaving the door open for light. The room was cold and full of cobwebs, for it had not been in use for many years. She shuddered to think of the rats and other creatures lurking in the corners, but her desire to read Rosalind's words eclipsed any squeamishness.

My darling sister,

I write in perverse hope that this missive shall somehow find you. We know not even what name you are living under and beg of you to send word that you are at least safe.

Are you safe, dear Kitty? I cannot think that you are. Not in that dark and cold castle. Not with the Earl of Rossfarne as your lord and master.

I must tell you that he came here just as you left us. A great temper hung around him and Lizzie and I hid in the pantry until we heard him ride off. What he wanted with us we dare not dwell upon, for it seems likely that he came to Shoreston in search of you.

Kitty, my heart threatens to jump out of my chest with worry. You must return to us. I have no need of mother's jewels so long as my dear sister is with me.

You will be pleased to learn that I have learned new skills in your absence. Lizzie has declared my loaves to be almost as well-risen as your own. You see, I am not some pampered miss with only a dowry to secure her future. I am resourceful and strong, just like you.

Without Father here to drain what is left of our coffers, we are doing well in Shoreston. It is only worry for you that keeps us from being truly happy. Do you remember the Erkines? They slaughtered a pig to celebrate their son coming home and were left with more ham and bacon than they could possibly store. They begged us to take some, merely to prevent the meat from going to waste. And so, we are well-fed and rested, waiting only for your safe return.

Please send word. Soon.

Your loving sister, Rosalind.

Kitty pressed the letter to her heart, wishing she could hold her younger sister so close.

She had spent less than seven nights in Rossfarne Castle, yet the time away from home had dimmed the light of her responsibilities. Rosalind's words had brought them back into sharp focus.

She didn't want her younger sister learning to bake bread. She didn't want the hard-working Erkines to provide them with food. Rosalind may have been taken in with their false tales, but Kitty recognised the gift of bacon for what it really was.

Charity.

Charity which she didn't want. Didn't need. She was here in Rossfarne Castle with an earl who was far richer than she had ever imagined. She must recover her family jewels, take them home and put all of this to rights.

Whatever it took.

The confusion and worry of the morning had cleared away. Kitty was calm and resolute.

She returned to the kitchen, to the enquiring gaze of Cook.

"Who was at the door?"

It took Kitty a moment to frame an answer. She couldn't tell of her letter from home. She'd allowed her fellow servants to believe she had no family. It was easier that way.

"A tinker," she mumbled at last. "He had wares to sell but they were poor."

Cook tutted as she slammed shut the kitchen door. "I hope you sent him on his way. We don't want his sort around here."

"I did."

Agnes paused in sweeping the floor and looked at her curiously. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Kitty's hands flew to her straw hat. "I'm sorry. I meant to go for a walk but I lost track of time. I'll go and change."

"Don't rush about so, you'll do yourself an injury."

Cook's warning followed her up the narrow stairs, but Kitty was too preoccupied to heed it. She glanced about the great hall, pleased to see no sign of Thomas, and flung herself up the curving stone steps to the servant's chambers.

It seemed an age since she had crept from this room, intending to run away back to Shoreston. She should have known better. Problems were never solved by running away. Her mother had taught her that.

Kitty placed Lizzie's straw hat safely in her closet and shook out her servant's dress. Its drab modesty irked her, though she had never noticed before. Now she contemplated that her voice may have pleased the earl, but her appearance most likely did not.

But did she want him to take pleasure in her appearance?

Her head was spinning. If only she had someone to talk to. Or the merest hint of experience with the opposite sex. For many years, her only thoughts of men and marriage had focused on Rosalind and how she might make a good match for her sister.

Kitty tugged the fabric down over her chemise. It fit snugly over her hips and bosom. She'd never paid attention to her curves, but now she wondered if they might, somehow, work in her favour. If only she could draw his eye towards them.

Her cheeks grew hot at the very idea.

And then what? she demanded of herself. Will you flutter your eyelashes and suggest that he hands over the jewels?

She sank down onto her hard bed, suddenly dispirited. She'd looked everywhere for the jewels. There was only one room they could be in. The earl's bedchamber.

Just like in her dream, her fingers rose to the top button of her bodice, and she undid it. Her heart pounded just beneath her hand.

Could she do whatever she needed to recover Rosalind's chance of a future?