That finger traced his lips, and when Daniel nipped it, she drew it back, laughing. Then she promptly fell asleep. He stood there in the dark of the room, staring at her for endless minutes, almost astonished by the warm sensation filling his chest. He seriously considered settingher up under his protection.
No…Miss Georgianna Heyford deserved better than to be any man’s mistress.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and blew out his breath. She was simply digging too far under his skin, and he merely needed to slake this need he had for her, so when they parted he would not damn well be haunted by her. Yet there was this small niggle deep in his mind that he might need years to uproot her from the place she had sunk into him. Daniel felt…unmoored, and he did not like the feeling of not understanding this…whatever the hell this was.
Who am I really when I am with you?
Chapter Twenty
For two days, Georgianna did not encounter the earl, buried in the kitchen, preparing the menu meant to delight the grand dowager’s taste buds. The rest of the house itself seemed in an uproar as the servants busied themselves with cleaning and planning for a most elegant dinner party to take place in two days. She worked, experimenting on various dishes from as early as five in the morning to trudging upstairs to her bed around seven each evening. She was grateful she did not contend with the earl and his far-too-enticing charm.
If only he would spare my dreams.
Georgianna stifled a yawn, wiping her hands on the apron as she awaited his presence in the dining room. He entered, his veiled gaze sweeping over her in a searching glance.
“You are exhausted,” he said, frowning.
“The opposite,” she said smiling. “I feel challenged and invigorated, my lord. I have never before had so many ingredients at my fingertips to work with. I shall miss your kitchens dreadfully.”
Georgianna walked to the five dishes she had prepared. She beckoned him over. “I thought of the places your grandmother traveled to in her youth, those places you mentioned she missed. Rome, Shanghai, Jamaica/the West Indies…New York…”
She lifted the spoon to his mouth. “Close your eyes, my lord.”
“Why?”
“I want you to appreciate the taste of what I am about to offer.” God, why did she sound so sensual? “Eating asks us to engage all our senses—sight, smell, taste. Have you ever truly savored a bite and wondered what really makes up the food you eat?”
His lips hitched in a small quirk, then his lashes fluttered closed. She held up the spoon to his mouth and his lips parted.
“Do taste all the flavors as they roll over your tongue,” she whispered.
His gaze snapped down, ensnaring her. The earl took the food into his mouth, slowly chewed, the green of his eyes appearing almost black. He made a sound low in his throat, one she was unable to interpret.
“What is it?”
“It is roasted duck,” she said softly, delighted by his pleasure.
“I’ve had duck before, Miss Heyford… This is not that.”
She smiled. “It is the sauce that distinguishes the taste. Your nana spent an entire year in Russia almost two decades ago and has not returned. This particular sauce is from Russia. It contains tarragon, parsley, chervil, horseradish, sugar, a pinch of pepper, lemon juice, and a little mustard.”
He swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, and she looked away, almost resenting the heat that flared in her belly. She hurried over to the small soup bowl, lifted it to him. His eyes gleamed when she tipped it to his mouth, and he took a large swallow.
“Oxtail soup,” he murmured.
“Yes…a delicacy those who live on the island of Jamaica love, and it is said that Chef Francatelli prepared it for our queen.”
“It is rich and flavorful,” he said roughly.
“It is the meat itself and the mignonette pepper.” She turned away, her movements jerky.Two more days, she reminded herself. Georgianna waved him over to the other dishes. “Please avail yourself of a taste. This is a dish that will let your nana taste the east along with a taste of Vienna. Unusual, I know, but they complement each other well.”
“Ah, I was taking such pleasure in you feeding me. Afraid of being too close, hmm?”
Her mouth twitched, and she suppressed the smile. She waited, clasping her fingers before him as he tasted all nine dishes she laid out. When he had finished, he leveled his gaze on her.
“You’ve outdone yourself.”
She grinned, warming at his praise. “Do you think the grand dowager will enjoy herself?”
