Kit tried to ignore the tingle of anticipation that flickered along her nerves. “Jack, what’s-Oh!”

She bit back a squeal as Jack landed on the bed beside her. He wrestled the covers away from her. The thin film of her negligee was summarily dispensed with before he rolled her beneath him. His lips found hers as her hands, and the rest of her, made contact with his naked body. After a blood-stirring duel of tongues, Kit drew back to gasp: “You dolt! You’re freezing! You’ll catch your death of cold.” His skin was iced, all except one part of him, which was already basking in the heat at the juncture of her thighs.

“Not if you warm me up.”

Kit gasped as she felt one large hand slip beneath her bottom, tilting her hips, opening her to his invasion. She felt his spine slowly flex. Hard as steel, smooth as silk, he entered her. Kit gasped again, her body arching in instinctive welcome.

His lips sought hers. They moved together, Kit following his lead, rising to his thrusts, stoking the flames higher until they broke in a molten wave, sending heated pleasure coursing through them.

Later, he moved off her, drawing her about so she lay curled with her back to him. He settled his larger body around hers and immediately fell deeply asleep.

Snuggled beneath a heavy arm and halfway to sleep herself, Kit grimaced. Marriage to Lord Hendon had changed nothing. When it came to smuggling, he was Captain Jack. And Captain Jack kept his own counsel.

Chapter 26

Why wouldn’t he tell her? Kit cantered up the Gresham’s drive with that refrain ringing in her ears. She’d not seen her aggravating husband since dawn, when, after exhausting her thoroughly, he’d carried her back to her bed. She vaguely recalled him saying something about inspecting his coverts. She wasn’t deceived. He’d purposely found some activity to keep him out all day so she couldn’t pursue her questions. Doubtless, he thought time would blunt her curiosity.

With a snort, Kit slid from the saddle without waiting for the assistance of her groom. “Is the family in, Jeffries?”

“Lord Gresham’s off to Lynn, miss-I mean, your ladyship.” Jeffries smiled as he took her bridle. “Lady Gresham took the carriage out an hour ago. But Miss Amy’s inside.”

“Good!” Kit stalked to the house and entered by the morning room windows.

Amy was there, idly plying her needle. She jumped up as soon as she saw Kit. “Oh, good. Mama’s gone to Lady Dersingham’s. Now we can talk.” Then Amy noticed Kit’s high color and the brisk way she stripped off her gloves. Her eyes widened. “What’s the matter?”

“That damned husband of mine’s as close as an oyster!” Kit flung her gloves onto a table and fell to pacing the room, her long swinging strides more suited to Young Kit than Lady Hendon.

“What do you mean?” Frowning, Amy sank back onto the chaise.

Kit glanced her way. Amy knew nothing of her husband’s alias but the need to unburden herself was strong. “What do you think of a gentleman who refuses to tell his wife,” Kit paused, searching for words, “the details of a transaction he’s involved in, when he knows she’s interested and it would not be a…a breach of confidence or any such thing?”

Amy blinked. “Why do you want to know about Jonathon’s business?”

The simple question sent Kit’s temper into orbit. With a frustrated growl, she went about the room again, struggling for calm. Why did she want to know what Jack was up to? Because she did. While she’d been Young Kit and he Captain Jack, she’d felt a part of his adventures. She couldn’t-wouldn’t-accept that being his wife meant she had to remain distanced from what affected him most nearly. Besides which, if she knew what he was up to, she was sure she could help.

She stopped in front of Amy. “Let’s just say that not knowing is driving me crazy. Besides which,” she added, kicking her skirts out of the way to pace again, “there are reasons of…of honor which say he should tell me. If he had any gentlemanly instincts, he would.”

Amy looked stunned-and thoroughly confused. “Do you mean that Jonathon’s not truly the gentleman?”

It was Kit’s turn to blink. “Of course not!” She frowned at Amy. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

Amy eyed Kit with affectionate understanding and patted the chaise. “Do sit down, Kit-you’re making me dizzy. Now tell me-is it really as exciting as they say?”

The point of the question missed Kit entirely. She dropped into a chair opposite Amy and frowned. “Is what so exciting?”

“You know.” Amy’s slight blush jolted Kit’s mind into the right rut.

“Oh, that.” Kit waved dismissively, then abruptly changed her mind. She wagged a knowledgeable finger at Amy. “You know, you didn’t have the half of it when you told me all that stuff about getting hot and wet.”

“Oh?” Amy sat straighter.

“No,” Kit affirmed. “It’s much worse than that.”

When Kit fell into a reverie and said nothing further, Amy glared. “Kit! You can’t just stop there. I told you all I know-now it’s your turn. I’m marrying George next month. It’s your duty to tell me so I’ll know what to expect.”

Kit considered; she decided her vocabulary wasn’t up to it. “Do you mean to tell me your George hasn’t gone beyond a kiss and a fondle?”

“Of course not.” Amy’s expression held more disgruntled disgust than shock. “Jonathon didn’t go any farther with you before your marriage, did he?”

Kit’s eyes glazed. “Our relationship didn’t develop along quite the same lines as yours and George’s.” Her voice sounded strangled. Memories of how far Jack had gone threatened to overcome her. Even if she gave Amy an edited version, it would shock her to the core. “I’m sorry, Amy, but I can’t explain. Why don’t you press George for further details? Here he comes now.”

Through the morning room windows she could see George striding up from the stables. He reached the windows and checked at the sight of her. Then, smoothly, he entered and greeted Amy, bowing over her hand before raising it to his lips.

Watching closely, Kit noted the glow that infused Amy’s face and the brightness in her eyes. When his eyes met Amy’s, George’s face softened; as his lips brushed Amy’s fingers, his eyes remained on hers. The warm affection in his gaze was fully returned by Amy. Kit felt uncomfortably de trop.

Releasing Amy with understated reluctance, George turned to Kit and took her hand in greeting. “Kit.”

She returned his nod graciously. They’d met only twice since she’d dropped the guise of Young Kit-once at the wedding, once at their belated betrothal dinner. She’d always had the distinct impression that George disapproved of her wild ways far more strongly than Jack did. “Amy and I were discussing the merits of a husband being open with his wife.” Kit kept her gaze innocent and unthreatening. “Perhaps, in the interests of a well-rounded argument, you could give us your views on the matter.”

George raised his brows, his expression growing wary. “I suspect it depends very much on the nature of the relationship, don’t you think?” With a smile for Amy, George sat on the chaise beside her.

“True,” Kit acknowledged. “But given the relationship was right, the husband’s willingness to confide is the next hurdle, don’t you think? What reasons could a man have for keeping secrets from his wife?”

Their next half hour was spent in a peculiar three-way conversation. George and Kit traded oblique references to Jack’s reticence, none of which Amy understood. Amy, for her part, urged Kit to unburden herself and explain her problem more fully-an undertaking George endeavored to discourage. In between, all three traded local gossip, and George managed to discuss the details of their wedding, which he’d come to the Manor to clarify.

Sensing the currents between Amy and George, suppressed in her presence, Kit rose and picked up her gloves. “I must be going. I feel sure my husband won’t approve of my being out after dark.”

With that acerbic comment, she embraced Amy fondly, nodded to George, and sailed from the room.

Amy watched her go, sighed-then went straight into George’s arms. They closed about her; she and George exchanged a warm and unrestrained kiss. Then Amy pulled back with a sigh. “I’m worried about Kit. She’s troubled by something-something serious.” She met George’s gaze. “I don’t like to think of her riding alone in such a mood.”

George grimaced. “Kit’s a big girl.”

Amy pressed closer. “Yes, but…” The eyes that met George’s twinkled. “And Mama will be home any minute.”

George sighed. “Very well.” He kissed Amy again, then set her from him. “But I’ll expect a reward next time I call.”

“You may claim it with my blessing,” Amy declared. “Just as long as Mama is out.”

George grinned, more than a touch wickedly. “I’ll be back.” With a wave, he headed for the stables.

He caught up with Kit as she left the stables, mounted on a chestnut mare. George stared. “Where’s Delia?”

For one fractured moment, Kit thought she’d erupt in flames. Her glance seared George. “Don’t ask!” She swung the chestnut toward the drive.

“Wait!” George called. “I’ll ride part of the way with you.”

When he rode out a minute later, Kit was schooling the mare in prancing circles, her groom watching from a distance. She fell in beside George; together they headed north and west.

George glanced at Kit. “I take it Jack hasn’t explained about the smuggling?”

Kit narrowed her eyes. “Explanations do not seem to be his strong point.”

George chuckled. When Kit glared, he explained: “You don’t know how true that is. Neither explanations nor excuses are part of Jack’s makeup. They weren’t characteristics of his father’s either.”