Velvet Embrace by Nicole Jordan Page B

right."
    The Frenchman looked relieved. He edged his way past Brie carefully, never taking his eyes off her until he reached the door to the hall. Then he slipped through quickly, leaving Dominic to face her alone. Dominic raised one eyebrow and waited expectantly for the explosion.
    It didn't come. Brie was fuming, to be sure; she thought it incredulous that Stanton had dismissed his servant before she had a chance to speak to him about killing game on Julian's property. But she had also learned it was wiser not to challenge Dominic directly. She gave him one long, fulminating glare, then angrily turned her back to him and stabbed a potato.
    There was a pregnant silence—a silence Brie found herself wishing would end. She could feel Dominic's intent gaze between her shoulder blades. She was about to take him to task for staring when he finally spoke. "The doe froze to death, Brie," he said gently.
    "What?" she muttered irritably, not interested in anything he had to say.
    "Jacques didn't kill the doe. She died last night from exposure after getting a leg caught in a crevice. That was how Patrick hurt himself—trying to carry the carcass across a patch of ice. I decided afterward to make use of the meat rather than leave it for the scavengers."
    Brie felt a rush of mortification start at her ears and slowly burn a path downward to her toes. How could she have acted so idiotically? She had jumped to an erroneous conclusion again, had made a spectacle of herself in front of Stanton for the second time that morning. Remembering her outburst, she was almost afraid to look at him. There would be a mocking gleam in his eyes, she was sure. He probably thought her a dim-witted rustic—certainly she had behaved like one.
    She was not a coward, though. She turned to face Dominic, squaring her shoulders as if she were bracing herself to accept a particularly obnoxious dose of medicine. "I am sorry, my lord," she said stiffly. "I mistook the situation. Of course I will apologize to your servant at once."
    Her expression was such an odd mixture of humility and belligerence that Dominic felt a curious tug at his heart. For once the mocking edge was missing from his voice when he spoke. "I doubt that Jacques requires an apology," he replied, "but it might be wise to let him know you didn't mean to carve out his liver. He's somewhat sensitive about such things."
    "Yes . . . well . . . ," Brie stammered. The look Dominic was giving her made her knees feel weak. Flustered, she glanced over at the deer. "I felt sorry for it."
    Dominic's lips twisted in a wry grin. "Somehow I got that impression. If I ever find any animals or little children in need of defense, I will have complete confidence in recommending you as their champion."
    For a moment, Brie wondered if he was mocking her again, but she could detect only a strange tenderness in his tone. And since her heart had suddenly started doing odd little flip-flops in her chest, she was glad to turn her attention back to the carrots.

    The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Dominic took charge of the household with the ease of a field commander, giving orders and organizing everyone, including Brie, into a surprisingly efficient staff. His own servants—a groom and two footmen who were part of his entourage—were assigned to the stables and general kitchen duty, while the younger Dawsons were left with their regular chores. Brie made no protest at any of Dominic's commands, even though she was a bit annoyed by his assumption of authority, for she could see he was more capable than she in dealing with such an emergency.
    She was kept busy the entire time. When she finished the vegetables, she carried a breakfast tray upstairs to the Dawsons and discovered that her help was needed after all. She found Homer and Jacques involved in a heated discussion, arguing over how best to care for Mattie. The burly coachman was waving his hands in the air and swearing in volatile French, while Homer was