on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them, saying instead, ‘If we have no more snow, then the packhorses should be able to get through tomorrow. You can be on your way.’
She looked a little startled at his harsh tone, then the lashes dropped, veiling her eyes.
‘Yes, of course. And this little idyll will be over.’ There was a hint of sadness in her voice that surprised him.
‘An idyll? Is that how you have seen this?’
Her smile not only lit up her face, it illuminated the room.
‘Stranded here, having to fend for ourselves—it has been so different from my everyday life.’ She added shyly, ‘Of course, I was a little frightened of you at first, but you have proved yourself to be most—’
‘Be careful,’ he warned her. ‘Do not make a hero out of me!’
‘—most restrained ,’ she ended, one corner of her mouth lifting a fraction. She looked back to the window. ‘I wonder what might have happened if you had been less honourable.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Surely he had misheard her? The faint blush on her cheek told him he had not.
‘We have been given this opportunity to escape from our ordinary lives for a few days. Tomorrow, I will go back to Mersecombe and I assume you will soon return to London. It is unlikely that we shall ever meet again. I just wonder what it would have been like…’
For a long moment she held his eyes.
‘Forgive me.’ She looked away, giving her head a little shake. ‘I think I have had too much wine. Please, ignore what I said.’ She turned back to the table. ‘I had best get these dishes to the kitchen. Evans will have finished his own meal by now and will be waiting to clear up.’
‘Let me help you.’
She did not refuse and he followed her through to the kitchen, his mind buzzing with conjecture. Was she really regretting the fact that he had not tried to seduce her? He shook his head. No. She was far too respectable for that. His gaze was drawn to the proud line of her back, the narrow waist and the full hips that swayed so invitingly as she moved. It was unconsciously done and therefore all the more alluring.
Evans had already cleaned the spit and cooking pans and he would allow them to do no more than bring the dishes into the scullery.
‘A kitchen’s no place for the likes of you, Miss Rose,’he muttered, ‘nor you, sir. If you will forgive me for saying so, I think you’d be more hindrance than help.’
Lawrence laughed at that. ‘I fear you may be right. I’ll go away.’
‘Aye, do, and be so good as to take my mistress with you!’
‘Really, Evans is growing quite autocratic,’ grumbled Rose. She was kneeling before the drawing room fire, jabbing the poker between the logs. ‘He knows I am more than capable of helping him!’
‘Yes, but you should not have to.’
Sir Lawrence reached out and took the poker from her. She shook her head at him, smiling.
‘I want to do something !’
He dropped down beside her and finished stirring the fire into a blaze.
‘Then find something a little less harmful to your hands.’ He took her fingers in a firm, warm clasp. ‘Look how rough they are.’
Rose tried to pull away, embarrassed.
‘That is not just from the last couple of days…’
He ignored her and continued to examine her hands. They were trapped in his gentle grasp. His intense scrutiny was unsettling; her heart was pounding, fluttering in her chest like a caged bird.
‘You have even burned yourself.’
‘A tiny mark!’ She tried and failed to keep her voice steady, conscious of how near he was. The tug of attraction was almost palpable. He continued to study the small red weal on the edge of her palm. She swallowed.‘And one expects that in a kitchen…’ Her words trailed off as he lifted her hand to his lips.
It was a gentle, intimate gesture and it took her breath away. Without thinking Rose tightened her fingers around his. She leaned closer and kissed him full on the mouth. His hands slid up her
She looked a little startled at his harsh tone, then the lashes dropped, veiling her eyes.
‘Yes, of course. And this little idyll will be over.’ There was a hint of sadness in her voice that surprised him.
‘An idyll? Is that how you have seen this?’
Her smile not only lit up her face, it illuminated the room.
‘Stranded here, having to fend for ourselves—it has been so different from my everyday life.’ She added shyly, ‘Of course, I was a little frightened of you at first, but you have proved yourself to be most—’
‘Be careful,’ he warned her. ‘Do not make a hero out of me!’
‘—most restrained ,’ she ended, one corner of her mouth lifting a fraction. She looked back to the window. ‘I wonder what might have happened if you had been less honourable.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Surely he had misheard her? The faint blush on her cheek told him he had not.
‘We have been given this opportunity to escape from our ordinary lives for a few days. Tomorrow, I will go back to Mersecombe and I assume you will soon return to London. It is unlikely that we shall ever meet again. I just wonder what it would have been like…’
For a long moment she held his eyes.
‘Forgive me.’ She looked away, giving her head a little shake. ‘I think I have had too much wine. Please, ignore what I said.’ She turned back to the table. ‘I had best get these dishes to the kitchen. Evans will have finished his own meal by now and will be waiting to clear up.’
‘Let me help you.’
She did not refuse and he followed her through to the kitchen, his mind buzzing with conjecture. Was she really regretting the fact that he had not tried to seduce her? He shook his head. No. She was far too respectable for that. His gaze was drawn to the proud line of her back, the narrow waist and the full hips that swayed so invitingly as she moved. It was unconsciously done and therefore all the more alluring.
Evans had already cleaned the spit and cooking pans and he would allow them to do no more than bring the dishes into the scullery.
‘A kitchen’s no place for the likes of you, Miss Rose,’he muttered, ‘nor you, sir. If you will forgive me for saying so, I think you’d be more hindrance than help.’
Lawrence laughed at that. ‘I fear you may be right. I’ll go away.’
‘Aye, do, and be so good as to take my mistress with you!’
‘Really, Evans is growing quite autocratic,’ grumbled Rose. She was kneeling before the drawing room fire, jabbing the poker between the logs. ‘He knows I am more than capable of helping him!’
‘Yes, but you should not have to.’
Sir Lawrence reached out and took the poker from her. She shook her head at him, smiling.
‘I want to do something !’
He dropped down beside her and finished stirring the fire into a blaze.
‘Then find something a little less harmful to your hands.’ He took her fingers in a firm, warm clasp. ‘Look how rough they are.’
Rose tried to pull away, embarrassed.
‘That is not just from the last couple of days…’
He ignored her and continued to examine her hands. They were trapped in his gentle grasp. His intense scrutiny was unsettling; her heart was pounding, fluttering in her chest like a caged bird.
‘You have even burned yourself.’
‘A tiny mark!’ She tried and failed to keep her voice steady, conscious of how near he was. The tug of attraction was almost palpable. He continued to study the small red weal on the edge of her palm. She swallowed.‘And one expects that in a kitchen…’ Her words trailed off as he lifted her hand to his lips.
It was a gentle, intimate gesture and it took her breath away. Without thinking Rose tightened her fingers around his. She leaned closer and kissed him full on the mouth. His hands slid up her
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