chopping more, he would need to preserve what they still had.
In the morning, he would shovel a path to the road and put Miss Downing on the first passing hack. Once she was on her way, he would take stock of his provisions and decide how to best fortify his cottage. And turn his life around. He shrugged out of his coat and knelt to release Egui from his basket.
At last free of its makeshift leash, the cat shot off down the corridor and out of sight.
Xavier pushed to his feet. He’d let Miss Downing know her pet had returned safely, and then he’d barricade himself in the servants’ quarters until dawn. This wasn’t a mere challenge. This was his chance to prove he was no longer the monster he’d become.
He rolled his shoulders back. Just a handful of hours. Morning would be here before he knew it. He’d endured much worse fates than an unexpected visit by a voluptuous temptress.
He strode down the hall to his bedchamber, intending to knock softly lest Miss Downing be sound asleep.
The door was wide open. She was still there. Still clothed. And damnably seductive.
She sat on the sole stool, running a brush through her long, brown hair. The lustrous curls caught the light, entrancing him as they stretched and coiled about her. His heart quickened.
What would it be like to sink his fingers into that mass of soft, silken curls? To slide his hand behind her head as he brought her lips to his? Or to have a cascade of curls curtain him from both sides as she straddled his hips and leaned down to—
He rapped his fingers against the doorframe hard enough to draw blood. She glanced up, startled, and then smiled shyly. His heart skipped a beat.
Friend friend friend , he reminded himself, trying desperately to tear his gaze from hers. No looking, no touching, no lovemaking. His houseguest was one hundred percent out-of-bounds. But he kept his feet on the other side of the doorway to be safe.
“No problem with the cat.” He cleared his throat when his voice came out raspier than expected. “Is there anything else you need before I turn in for the night?”
Her cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Would you mind terribly… helping me remove my gown?”
“Would I what? ” he choked out, suddenly unable to breathe.
“It’s just… Ladies’ gowns are made with the expectation that one’s maid will manage the lacing and unlacing.” She gestured behind her. “I find myself incapable of the contortions necessary to unhook my gown and unbind my stays.”
He swallowed hard and prayed for strength. “How did you plan to get dressed without a lady’s maid?”
Her blush deepened. “I didn’t plan to be dressed.”
“Well done. Now I’m expected to play maid.” He stalked forward to unlace her as quickly as possible.
“I did give you another option,” she murmured. “I find the thought of both of us naked to be equally acceptable.”
He groaned. It was going to be a long, hard night.
Literally.
Chapter Eight
Xavier’s first thought upon waking wasn’t about the willing woman curled betwixt his bed linen… but only because he hadn’t managed to sleep at all, for that very same reason.
Yes, the servants’ quarters were uncomfortable in their strangeness. Without a fire in the hearth, his breath escaped his lungs in visible puffs of frigid air. But that was nothing. During the war, he’d slept in far less noble conditions. Beneath the rain, against the wind, upon the earth itself—he’d been trained to properly rest his body to prepare for enemy action.
He hadn’t been prepared for a curvaceous bluestocking with chestnut eyes, lustrous curls, and a devilishly tempting proposal. Turning her down had been the hardest thing he’d done since leaving the army… until she’d asked him to help unlace her stays. His smallclothes tightened at the memory of his trembling fingers lifting that long, soft hair from the nape of her neck.
Did he find her attractive? Lying naked in the snowdrifts
In the morning, he would shovel a path to the road and put Miss Downing on the first passing hack. Once she was on her way, he would take stock of his provisions and decide how to best fortify his cottage. And turn his life around. He shrugged out of his coat and knelt to release Egui from his basket.
At last free of its makeshift leash, the cat shot off down the corridor and out of sight.
Xavier pushed to his feet. He’d let Miss Downing know her pet had returned safely, and then he’d barricade himself in the servants’ quarters until dawn. This wasn’t a mere challenge. This was his chance to prove he was no longer the monster he’d become.
He rolled his shoulders back. Just a handful of hours. Morning would be here before he knew it. He’d endured much worse fates than an unexpected visit by a voluptuous temptress.
He strode down the hall to his bedchamber, intending to knock softly lest Miss Downing be sound asleep.
The door was wide open. She was still there. Still clothed. And damnably seductive.
She sat on the sole stool, running a brush through her long, brown hair. The lustrous curls caught the light, entrancing him as they stretched and coiled about her. His heart quickened.
What would it be like to sink his fingers into that mass of soft, silken curls? To slide his hand behind her head as he brought her lips to his? Or to have a cascade of curls curtain him from both sides as she straddled his hips and leaned down to—
He rapped his fingers against the doorframe hard enough to draw blood. She glanced up, startled, and then smiled shyly. His heart skipped a beat.
Friend friend friend , he reminded himself, trying desperately to tear his gaze from hers. No looking, no touching, no lovemaking. His houseguest was one hundred percent out-of-bounds. But he kept his feet on the other side of the doorway to be safe.
“No problem with the cat.” He cleared his throat when his voice came out raspier than expected. “Is there anything else you need before I turn in for the night?”
Her cheeks flushed a deep pink. “Would you mind terribly… helping me remove my gown?”
“Would I what? ” he choked out, suddenly unable to breathe.
“It’s just… Ladies’ gowns are made with the expectation that one’s maid will manage the lacing and unlacing.” She gestured behind her. “I find myself incapable of the contortions necessary to unhook my gown and unbind my stays.”
He swallowed hard and prayed for strength. “How did you plan to get dressed without a lady’s maid?”
Her blush deepened. “I didn’t plan to be dressed.”
“Well done. Now I’m expected to play maid.” He stalked forward to unlace her as quickly as possible.
“I did give you another option,” she murmured. “I find the thought of both of us naked to be equally acceptable.”
He groaned. It was going to be a long, hard night.
Literally.
Chapter Eight
Xavier’s first thought upon waking wasn’t about the willing woman curled betwixt his bed linen… but only because he hadn’t managed to sleep at all, for that very same reason.
Yes, the servants’ quarters were uncomfortable in their strangeness. Without a fire in the hearth, his breath escaped his lungs in visible puffs of frigid air. But that was nothing. During the war, he’d slept in far less noble conditions. Beneath the rain, against the wind, upon the earth itself—he’d been trained to properly rest his body to prepare for enemy action.
He hadn’t been prepared for a curvaceous bluestocking with chestnut eyes, lustrous curls, and a devilishly tempting proposal. Turning her down had been the hardest thing he’d done since leaving the army… until she’d asked him to help unlace her stays. His smallclothes tightened at the memory of his trembling fingers lifting that long, soft hair from the nape of her neck.
Did he find her attractive? Lying naked in the snowdrifts
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