Kat Martin - Heart of Fire

When he had first inherited the earldom, he’d had so much to do he’d had little time to think, had been exhausted at the end of each day. There was a great deal to learn about being an earl, and Gray had enjoyed the challenge. He had enjoyed his life, and his bachelorhood. He’d had any number of mistresses back then, and though he had tired of them easily, he always saw them well settled when the brief affair was over.

Then he’d been introduced to Jillian. She was young and beautiful, though a little too shy and a bit more reserved than perhaps he would have liked. But it was time he took a wife, time he did his duty and provided an heir, and Jillian and her family had seemed eager for the match.

Ten months later his wife was dead and he was once more alone.

Gray moved silently along the west wing hallway toward the master’s suite. Since Jillian’s death, he’d grown more and more restless, prowling the estate, searching for something but unable to discover what it was. With the arrival of the woman, for the first time in weeks he felt his interest piqued. Letty Moss posed a mystery and Gray meant to solve it.

He reached his suite, pulled open the heavy carved door and went into the rooms that had belonged to his father. The sitting room, with its gold velvet draperies and dark oak furniture, stirred unpleasant memories and somehow weighed Gray down. He walked on through, his mind returning to Letty Moss and what he might discover about her.

“Good evening, sahib.” His manservant, Samir Ramaloo, walked out of the bathing chamber adjoining the bedroom. Wisps of steam from the marble tub, prepared for Gray’s nightly bath, followed in his wake.

“Good evening, Samir.” The small, dark-skinned man had been Gray’s manservant in India during the three years he had served there in the army. Each officer kept a full retinue of servants, staff necessary for surviving the hot, arid, demanding climate.

With his impeccable service, Samir had made himself indispensable. He had also become Gray’s teacher, introducing him to the customs and conventions of the exotic land, and giving him the insight to appreciate a country so different from his own. More than a servant, Samir was his friend—and the wisest man Gray had ever known.

“Your bath is ready, sire,” he said now, glancing up with eyes so black they looked like bottomless pits.

Gray merely nodded and continued past him toward the marble bathing room.

“Your mind is far away,” the Hindu said, knowing him well enough to sense that something was on his mind. “You think of the woman. I saw her this morning when she arrived and again tonight. She is very beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.” She was lovely, like a perfectly modeled porcelain doll. Likely with the same empty head. She had presented herself as a young wife married briefly, then abandoned by her husband. Gray knew women, and as skittish as this one was, he was sure she had barely known the touch of a man, and probably had never known fulfillment.

It made her story somewhat convincing, and yet he believed there was far more to her tale.

Interesting. That was Letty Moss.

Samir helped Gray disrobe, then stood aside as he stepped into the steaming water and settled his shoulders against the back of the marble tub.

“It is said the woman is your cousin.”

Gray scoffed. “By marriage, and so far distant the relationship is meaningless.”

“She has no husband?”

“She’s married. The man left her penniless and went off to seek his fortune.”

“Ah, then she is in need of a protector—and you are in need of a woman. You ignore the desires of the flesh, but they gnaw like a beast inside you. Perhaps you can give this woman what she needs and she will do the same for you.”

“She has a head full of feathers,” he said, trying to convince himself Samir’s words held no appeal, “and she is not what she seems.”

“Ah, a puzzle for you to solve. That is what makes her interesting.”

“She is that. I’m not sure why she’s here, but I intend to find out.”

“That is good. Then you can allow yourself to pleasure the woman and enjoy her yourself. I will see what I can learn that might be of use.”

Gray made no reply. He needed to keep a close eye on his so-called cousin, make sure she didn’t cause any problems. Samir’s watchful gaze might be helpful.

Whatever her story, Gray would soon find out the truth.

And perhaps, as Samir suggested, once he knew it, there could be other, more intimate things about Letty Moss he might find out.

Corrie’s heart pounded madly as she hurried along the hall toward her bedroom. She didn’t like the feeling at all. She reached her room, pulled open the door, and found Allison waiting inside.

“I thought you might need help getting out of your gown,” she said.

“Thank you, Ally.” Though she could certainly use the help with her buttons and corset, Corrie wasn’t all that happy to find the dark-haired girl there. Not while her own mind was still swirling, replaying those unsettling moments with the earl in the garden.

“Did you find out anything useful?” Allison asked as she crossed the room.

“What…? Oh, no, I just went for a walk outside.” Coralee hadn’t discovered a thing, except that Grayson Forsythe had a very worrisome effect on her.

She turned so that Allison could work the buttons at the back of her gown. “The earl was there. He didn’t go to supper with Rebecca and his brother.”

Allison’s head snapped up. “You spoke to him out in the garden?”

“Why, yes.”

“That is the second time you’ve met him. What is he like?”

Corrie bit her lip. How to describe the earl? “He is…the earl is a most unusual man. Besides being handsome in the extreme, there is something about him…. I cannot quite grasp what it is. He is very intense and has a decided air of mystery about him.”

Allison helped her out of her dress and tossed it onto the bed. “Do you think he might commit murder?”

A shiver ran through her. “I am not sure. But he is a big man and clearly strong enough to accomplish such a feat if he wished. He is a man of the world, and certainly the sort to attract a woman. I’ll need to investigate him further, and of course, we must find some proof that he and Laurel were involved.”

Allison began to loosen the strings of her corset and Corrie drew in a welcome breath.

“You are just arrived,” her companion said. “In time, you will find out the truth.”

“I certainly hope so.” Time was what she needed. She had to find answers about Laurel, answers about the earl.

Which meant spending more time in his company.

Corrie ignored the odd rush of heat that thought filtered into her stomach.

The morning was blustery, the breeze whipping the newly leafed branches on the trees outside the windows. Needing a moment to fortify her courage, Corrie stood outside the door to the breakfast room she had been directed to by one of the servants, a small, very thin, dark-skinned man.

Speaking with an accent unlike any she had ever heard, he’d told her his name was Samir. When she asked him where he came from, he’d said he was from the Oudh District of India, that his family was no longer living and he had come to England with Lord Tremaine.

A manservant from India. More and more the earl intrigued her. She could think of no one of her acquaintance who was anything like him.

Corrie walked into the breakfast room, a cheery place done in yellow and peach, with a table loaded with gold-rimmed porcelain and gleaming silver. Delicious smells rose from an elaborate sideboard covered with silver chafing dishes and steaming urns of coffee and tea.

“Good morning, Cousin.” A handsome blond man spotted her and rose from his chair. Charles Forsythe was shorter than his brother, and as fair as his wife instead of dark like the earl. Tremaine followed suit and rose as well, but more slowly, with a casual sort of insolence that seemed to be part of his nature.