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She didn’t think she could trust him with her feelings. And she didn’t know anything about his business dealings.
Well, she could find out once and for all, could she not?
Determined to put an end to all her worries, she jumped out of bed.
William always prepared a bucket of steaming water in the dressing room, and Victoria used it to carefully wash, brush her teeth, and get dressed in her most beautiful day gown.
She descended the stairs on shaking legs and ventured into the kitchen, where William was rattling dishes.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she moved closer.
“I heard you moving upstairs, so I decided to prepare everything for our baking lesson.”
Victoria glanced over William’s shoulder to see the flour, a jug of water, salt, and some other ingredients, the names of which she did not know, on the table, and two bowls. She grinned and put on an apron. “Very well, teach me, Master.”
He winced. “I don’t think I like being called that.”
Victoria raised a curious brow but didn’t protest. “What would you like to be called then?”
He stepped closer, crowding her with his being. “How about Husband?”
Victoria swallowed and looked deeply into his ice-blue eyes. Only they were darker now, almost midnight blue. “Very well… Husband. Teach me.”
William turned toward the table and cleared his throat. “It is really quite simple.”
“Don’t say that,” Victoria said with a chuckle, looking at the dry ingredients and feeling quite intimidated. “Because then if I fail, I fail at a simple task, which means I am completely useless.”
William threw her a side-long glance. “You didn’t let me finish. I meant to say, it is really quite simple to fail at this.”
Victoria laughed, and William placed a brief kiss on her forehead. They both froze at the spontaneous and rather easy gesture of affection. It felt so natural, so instinctive for him to do, that both of them only realized that it wasn’t right after it was done.
William turned back to his bowl. “Right, let us begin.”
Victoria bit her lip and did the same.
William mixed the dry ingredients, guiding Victoria to do the same. Then he poured the mix of yeast, oil, and water, and Victoria squeaked at the strange sensation.
“What am I to do with that?” She looked at the gooey mixture with distaste.
“You are supposed to mix it,” William said with a smile. “Let me show you.”
He moved closer to her and plunged his hand into Victoria’s bowl. Victoria let out a tiny sigh, barely able to contain herself as William’s fingers caressed her skin, and then his strong hands gently enveloped hers, guiding her movements.
William shifted to stay behind her, his body pressed against her back and her rump. His chin was moving against her hair, one hand in the bowl with hers, his other hand propped against the table, caging her in the circle of his arms.
His lovely scent enveloped her senses, and she nearly forgot what she was doing. If she thought the idea of baking bread was sensual before, now she thought it was absolutely sinful.
Victoria relished the silky feel of the soft dough squeezing between her fingers; she relished even more the feeling of William’s touch on her hand. Her heart raced, and Victoria raised her hand from the bowl, the dough sticking to her skin, stretching upward, following the gesture of her hand.
“This feels… rather strange,” she said in an attempt to distract herself.
William chuckled, the rumble in his chest reverberating against her back and spreading heat throughout her body. “It needs a little more flour and a little more work before it’s ready. There are three types of dough: soft, hard, and the bâtard.”
Victoria twisted her neck to look at William, her nose perilously close to his clean-shaven chin, her lips hovering just a few inches away from the strong column of his neck. “The bastard?”
William chuckled once more. “Correct. The mix between the two.”
“Is that the one we are making?”
