Page 91 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

Any lingering anxiety fled in the face of such sweetness and she smiled at him.

“Goodnight, Ned.”

The next morning, Grace awoke to discover Ned was already hard at work in the yard below. Frustrated at not waking when he did, she jumped out of bed and washed as fast as she could in the chilly room. The fire had died in the night, as she’d been too addled to tend it before she went to bed, and now gooseflesh prickled over her skin. The reason for her distraction returned tenfold as she remembered last night, remembered being in Ned’s arms, the taste of his kisses. Heat bloomed beneath her skin, a flush of pleasure surging up her neck and staining her cheeks.

She stared out of the window, admiring the strong, handsome man who’d made her quiver with longing as he went about his day. His powerful shoulders filled out his coat superbly, making the lifting and carrying he did look effortless. She watched his large hands as he worked, those strong, capable hands that had touched her with such reverence that the memory of it made her eyes burn with emotion.

As if her thoughts had reached him, he looked up then, to see her watching him from the window. He smiled, and her heart gave three heavy, uneven beats in her chest before she could catch her breath. She waved at him, feeling giddy and silly, and then laughed as he raised his hand and blew her a kiss.

“Oh, Edward Hardy, what are you doing to my heart?” She wondered aloud.

Tearing herself away from the window she hurried down the stairs, determined to make sure he came into a warm house and that there was a hearty breakfast ready, fit for a working man.

The breakfast was plentiful, if not as elegant as she might have hoped. The bread was more evenly cut but still far too thick, she’d broken all the eggs again and almost, but not quite, burnt the bacon.

Ned ate every scrap, showing every sign of pleasure and mopping up the remaining egg with more bread that she dutifully cut for him.

“That was very welcome.” He sighed with contentment. “Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said, meaning it.

“Ah, well, back out into the cold for me,” he said with obvious regret.

“Oh, must you go at once?” she said, and then wished she hadn’t. Fool. He had a farm to run and there were no doubt a thousand jobs for her to do, if only she had the slightest idea what they were. “Forgive me, of course you must. You’ve better things to do, I know.”

“Not better, lass,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “I’d happily stay by your side if I could.”

Grace smiled her thanks at his words, looking down at his hand engulfing hers. She remembered again the way he’d touched her, remembered sitting in his lap last night and felt her heart quicken with anticipation. Would he do that again tonight?

“Couldn’t I come with you, about the farm? I won’t get in your way,” she said in a rush. “I’d only watch.”

Pleasure lit his eyes, but he shook his head. “No, lass. Just in case that brother of yours has someone watching the house. We need to keep ye hid until we’re wed, but then… if ye would like to come with me, ye may. I’d love to show ye about the place.”

“You would?”

He nodded, though his expression grew troubled. “I wouldn’t blame ye if ye didn’t like it though. What with ye being raised a lady, it’ll not be what ye are used to. It’s a rough, mucky place, especially in the winter.”

“You love it,” she said, and he nodded.

“Aye.”

“Then I shall love it too.”

He stared at her for a long moment and then got to his feet, moving to stand beside her. He bent, his fingers gently tipping her chin up to him as he leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft press of lips, tender and full of promise.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve such sweetness, but I’ll do my best for ye, Grace. I’ll do all in my power to make ye happy.”

He kissed her again and then moved quickly, grabbing his coat, boots, and hat, and hurrying out of the kitchen. Grace smiled, knowing he had fought the temptation to stay with her and experiencing a rush of contentment.

She worked hard that morning, clearing away the breakfast things and scouring the recipe book for things she could manage for dinner.

Ned appeared again at midday and she fed him the rest of the soup they’d had last night, and thick slices of bread spread with dripping and sprinkled with salt. He kissed her again before he left, a little more fiercely this time and, when he’d hurried away, he left her breathless and flushed.

Once she’d done all she could to prepare for the evening meal, Grace investigated the house. Ned had told her to poke about as she wished, seeing as how she’d be mistress of the place in a few days. His words had provoked a strange, almost proprietary emotion, and not just for the house.

There were two main rooms downstairs, with the huge brick fireplace separating them in the middle, and the stairs to the upper rooms to the side of it. On one side was the large kitchen, and on the other a room that Ned referred to as the hall but which appeared to Grace to be a comfortable and spacious parlour. The furniture was covered with sheets and Ned had admitted he’d not used the room since Sarah died.

Grace pushed aside an unwelcome stab of mingled jealousy and sorrow, wondering if this room held many happy memories for him of his late wife. She ought not to begrudge such memories—it was uncharitable, unchristian—yet she felt like an intruder, an interloper who had inveigled her way into his life and his home when she had no right to do so. She wanted the right to be there. To be with him.