Page 48 of The Chef and the Countess

“Oh, Liam,” Celia whispered. “That must have been frightening.”

He nodded, then met her gaze again. Celia could see the recollections caused pain. “I was good at it until I started growing. Then I moved into attic thievery. I’d wait until the family and servants were having dinner below stairs, climb in, then make my way to the family bedrooms, grabbing jewelry and the like. My cut from these jobs kept my mother and me in a couple of rooms. We were able to eat meat at least once a week.”

“Then your mother got sick.”

Liam nodded. “I didn’t stick around to have the duke’s rat locate me.”

“Who was the duke’s rat?” Celia asked softly.

“He was Chellenham’s man. He came a few times and gave my mother coins for my upkeep. For a while, I wondered if that muscle-bound bloke was my father. Then he offered to buy me. After that, my mother and I left the Seven Dials and crossed the Thames into Spitalfields. I found out from Drew that Chellenham sold children, his own included, for profit. Anyway, after my mother died, I spent the next two years doing what I could survive: pickpocketing, robbery, and digging through rubbish to find edible food. That is where Walter Henning found me, nibbling on a piece of stale bread beside his shed.”

Her heart throbbed with empathy for him. “Mere words cannot express the depth of my sorrow for what you have endured. I would never hold your past against you. The strength you’ve shown in surviving surpasses all. Where did you receive your schooling?”

“I went to a ragged school in the Seven Dials until we left. Once Walter took me in, he sent me to school in the afternoons. I learned how to do the books and math problems related to cooking. I also read a lot, not just about cuisine.”

“I became an even more voracious reader once I married. There wasn’t much else to do in Northern England. Mr. Henning made you an apprentice. Did you like him?”

“Yes,” Liam murmured. “I cared about him, faults and all. He became the father I never had. Or what I imagined a father could be.”

“And he loved you. He left you the business.” She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Now that you have shared your past with me, please enlighten me on why you believe it will hinder us from being—more.”

* * *

Liam’s eyelids fluttered shut. He felt a raw vulnerability, his dark soul laid bare. He instantly regretted revealing his past. He hadn’t even shared the full story with Walter. But there were some aspects he didn’t dare tell Celia. She didn’t need to know how he was bullied, or how the criminals had tried to coerce him into selling himself for extra coins. He’d also been the one to insist that he and his mother escape the Seven Dials; staying there had become intolerable, especially with the duke’s rat sniffing around.

Could there be more between him and Celia?

At night, when he was alone, Liam indulged in fanciful dreams of Celia working alongside him in the coming years, sharing everything, as partners and lovers. But there was an even more secret aspect of his life, and he did not know how to broach the subject.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. “Be serious. You would give up a life in the upper class to toil sun-up to sundown in an East End kitchen?”

Celia leaned forward. “If not, where do you think I will live? Even if I reconcile with my aunt, I will never live with Darrington and Shinwell. I cannot stay with my friends longterm. So, I live on forty pounds a year, renting a cheap room in the West End. How is that any better? At least here, there are people I care about. I’d have a purpose in life, and pride in a job well done.”

Liam stood and headed toward the window. The sun was setting, casting red streaks across the cloudy sky. “It’s only been a couple of weeks. You will soon tire of it—and me.”

Celia ran to his side, grasped his arm, and pulled him to face her. “How dare you make pronouncements about what I feel! I—”

Liam leaned down and kissed her deeply, effectively cutting off her sentence. He cupped her face, laying soft kisses at the corner of her mouth, only to dive in and retake complete possession. Celia moaned and met every thrust of his tongue as she threw her arms about his neck. She tasted glorious, like a sweet dessert, which made him crave her even more. He slipped his arms to encircle her waist and pulled her close so that she could feel exactly how she moved him. Bloody hell, he ached, utterly yearned for her. This emotion he could name: lust, passion, desire. Liam felt it all. It was the deeper, more complicated feelings he was having difficulty with.

Celia ground against him, causing his erection to harden further. In a deft move, he swung her about until her back rested against the wall. His hands slid over the curve of her hip until he grabbed her arse and lifted her far enough from the floor to rest against his leg. She gasped, then smiled and kissed him fiercely. The room spun. The heat they created rivaled the kitchen cookers roiling at full tilt. Liam cupped her breast, his thumb brushing against her erect nipple. He trailed feverish kisses down her neck only to retake possession of her luscious mouth.

Easy, lad.

That annoying voice inside his head brought Liam back down to earth. He was moments away from losing control. This was not the time or the place. Shuddering from unspent passion, he gently lowered Celia to the floor until the toes of her boots rested on the floor. Taking a shaky step in reverse, he met her wide-eyed gaze.

Her hair was mussed, her lips swollen and well-kissed. It took all his inner strength not to kiss her senseless again, tunnelling his hand under her wool skirt until he found wetness at her feminine core. And he knew instinctively she was wet for him. Oh, how he wanted to make her come apart in his arms. Over and over again. The depth and breadth of his desire stunned him.

“Why did you stop?” Celia rasped.

“I wish I knew, lass.”

Celia cleared her throat. “It’s overwhelming, isn’t it?”

He leaned in, took a stray tendril of her golden-brown hair, and tucked it behind her ear. “Aye. That’s the truth.”

She clasped his hand, and the contact sent his heart racing. Celia kissed each knuckle tenderly. “You think we should not rush into anything,” she murmured sensually.

Liam was ready to sweep her into his arms and take her to his bed. Instead, he stood stock-still, frozen. That had never happened before in his life, which proved this was beyond his experience. “Aye,” he croaked.