His hand moved rhythmically around his member, each stroke increasing the pressure in his gut. He could feel himself getting slowly to the edge. A few more strokes and he would?—
A knock at the door rattled his thoughts. He straightened at once and leaned forward so the desk hid him. A slow breath escaped him as he snatched a book and trapped it between his thighs. It was a boy’s reflex, and he knew it, but nothing else could help.
He pressed his lips together and cleared his throat. “Enter.”
A maid opened the door and bobbed a quick curtsy. “Will ye be dining with the others, me Laird?”
“Nay,” he replied. “I have work to do. Tell them to dine without me.”
She hesitated before speaking again, the uncertainty in her voice more evident than anything. “Do ye require anything, me Laird?”
“Nay,” he said. “Is Stella asleep yet?”
“Aye, me Laird,” she responded, her voice quiet. “I tucked her into bed meself.”
He gave a short nod. “Good. Keep the corridor outside her door lit and have the nurse look in twice.”
“Aye, me Laird.”
She left as quietly as she had come, and Jack watched as the door clicked shut behind her.
Silence fell over the room again as he sank back into his chair. The heat from the fire sat close. The rest of the air felt cool and thin. He waited for one long breath and then another. The tight pull in his chest eased, though it did not vanish.
He opened the ledger again. This time, he forced each line to stay where he put it. He wrote down the sums and checked them twice. When his thoughts tried to stray, he steered them back.
It was slow work, but in this particular instant, it was necessary.
He finished writing down the sums in silence and felt the air brush his cheeks. He closed the ledger, eventually, and set both palms flat on the desk.
He did not like the change in him. Desire did not frighten him. It only made a mess when a man let it control him.
He had never been the kind of man who left order to the ache between his thighs. He would not let it ruin him now. A man is what he does, not what he hides.
CHAPTER 20
The cold eveningsettled softly against the glass. Candles flickered at the corners of the room and illuminated the mess Ava had made.
Emma caught the smell of cotton and looked around. Gowns lay everywhere, with silk and wool ribbons hanging off the bed and creating a giant puddle on the floor.
Ava held up a deep green silk gown and squinted one eye. “What about this one?”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Too bold. I am trying to look pleasant, nae like I mean to frighten him.”
Ava snorted and tossed the gown onto the growing heap. “Then maybe this one?” She lifted a pale blue dress with lace sleeves and shook it so the lace fluttered.
“Too meek,” Emma chuckled. “He’ll think I’ve come to beg forgiveness for something I havenae done.”
“Ye ken, something tells me he is going to like that.”
Emma laughed, and Ava held up another dress.
“Nay.”
Ava sighed. “Ye’re something else, do ye ken that?”
“I am cautious.” Emma tugged a fourth dress free from under two more. “There is a difference.”
The wardrobe gave up another armful, and the mattress sank under the weight.
