Cold-Hearted Rake (The Ravenels #1)(39)

His reply was soft. “You always have my attention.”

Kathleen wasn’t certain how to take his meaning. Before she could ask, however, the latch of the bathroom door clicked. The wood panels trembled as someone began to push his way in. Kathleen’s eyes flew open. She wedged her hands against the door, her nerves stinging in horror. A violent splash erupted behind her as Devon leaped from the bathtub and flattened a hand on the door to keep it from opening farther. His other hand slid around her to cover her mouth. That was unnecessary – Kathleen couldn’t have made a sound to save her life.

She quivered in every limb at the feel of the large, steaming male at her back.

“Sir?” came the valet’s puzzled voice.

“Confound it, have you forgotten how to knock?” Devon demanded. “Don’t burst into a room unless it’s to tell me that the house is on fire.”

Distantly Kathleen wondered if she might swoon. She was fairly certain that Lady Berwick would have expected it of her in such circumstances. Unfortunately her mind remained intractably awake. She swayed, her balance uncertain, and his body automatically compensated, hard muscles flexing to support her. He was pressed all along her, hot water seeping through the back of her riding habit. With every breath, she drew in the scents of soap and heat. Her heart faltered between every beat, too weak, too fast.

Dizzily she focused on the large hand braced against the door. His skin was faintly tawny, the kind that would brown easily in the sun. One of his knuckles was scraped and raw – from lifting the carriage wheel, she guessed. The nails were short and scrupulously clean, but ink stains lingered in faint shadows on the sides of two fingers.

“I beg your pardon, my lord,” the valet said. With an overdone respect that hinted at sarcasm, he added, “I’ve never known you to be modest before.”

“I’m an aristocrat now,” Devon said. “We prefer not to flaunt our assets.”

He was wedged against her so tightly that Kathleen could feel his voice resonate through her. The vital, potent maleness of him surrounded her. The sensation was foreign and frightening… and bewilderingly pleasant. The motion of his breathing and the heat of him along her back sent little flames dancing through her tummy.

“… there is some confusion as to the location of your luggage,” Sutton was explaining. “One of the footmen carried it inside the house, as I directed, but Mrs. Church told him not to bring it to the master bedroom, as Lady Trenear has taken up temporary residence.”

“Has she? Did Mrs. Church enlighten you as to why Lady Trenear has invaded my room?”

“The plumbers are installing pipe beneath the floor in her bedroom. I’m told that Lady Trenear was none too pleased by the situation. One of the footmen said he heard her vow to do you bodily harm.”

“How unfortunate.” Subtle amusement wove through Devon’s voice. She felt his jaw nudge against her hair as he grinned. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced her.”

“It wasn’t merely an inconvenience, my lord. Lady Trenear quitted the master bedroom immediately after the late earl’s passing, and hasn’t spent a night there since. Until now. According to one of the servants —”

Kathleen stiffened.

“I don’t need to know why,” Devon interrupted. “That is Lady Trenear’s concern, and none of ours.”

“Yes, sir,” the valet said. “More to the point, the footman conveyed your luggage to one of the upstairs rooms, but no one seems to know which one.”

“Has anyone thought of asking him?” Devon suggested dryly.

“At present the man is nowhere to be found. Lady Pandora and Lady Cassandra recruited him to assist them in searching for their pig, which has gone missing.”

Devon’s body tensed. “Did you say ‘pig’?”

“Yes, my lord. A new family pet.”

Devon’s hand slid gently from Kathleen’s lips, his fingertips grazing her chin in a whisper of a caress. “Is there a particular reason why we’re keeping livestock in the —”

Kathleen had turned to glance up at him just as his head bent. His mouth collided against her temple, the accidental touch causing her senses to reel in confusion. His lips, so firm and smooth, his hot, tickling breath… She began to tremble.

“— house?” Devon finished, his voice roughening. He reached out to grasp the door’s metal edge plate, preventing it from closing again.

“I needn’t point out that such questions do not arise in most well-appointed households,” Sutton said primly. “Shall I hand the towels past the door?”

“No, leave them on the other side. I’ll retrieve them when I’m ready.”

“On the floor?” Sutton sounded appalled. “My lord, allow me to set them on a chair.” There were sounds of objects being moved within the room, the thump of a light piece of furniture.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, Kathleen saw that Devon’s grip had tightened on the door until the tip of his thumb had turned white. His wrist and arm were corded. How warm he was, and how firmly his chest and shoulders supported her. The only place they didn’t quite fit was the place low on her spine, where the pressure of his body was inflexible and stiffly prodding. She squirmed, seeking a more comfortable position. Devon inhaled quickly and reached down to grasp her right hip, forcing her to stay still.