His eyes watched her with interest. She became aware of just how warm the kitchen was, and moisture dampened the back of her neck. He was eyeing her the way he might stare at a piece of chocolate before he devoured it. “Do I need an excuse to speak with my wife?”
Emily cracked another egg into the bowl, the shells crumbling under her shaking hands. “N-no.”
Honestly, what was the matter with her? She hadn’t meant to add that egg. To cover her flustered mood, she focused on blending the batter.
“Ten eggs?” he remarked, glancing at the fallen shells. “I suppose we should fashion a hen house in here somewhere.”
“It’s for a pound cake,” Emily said. “And—and—I’ve some strawberries, too.”
“I look forward to tasting them.”
The deep timbre of his voice suggested he had other items in mind for tasting. Emily beat the eggs so fast, it was a wonder she hadn’t scrambled them.
Stephen reached in to taste the batter. His finger disappeared inside his mouth, and, God help her, it only reminded her of his sensual kiss. She imagined his mouth capturing hers, asking her to bend, to yield to him. Closing her eyes, she wrenched her attention back to the cake batter.
He dipped his finger into the mixture again and held it out to her. “Want a taste?”
The idea of licking his finger made all the blood rush to her face.
“No, thank you.” She beat the helpless batter, even though it was already well blended.
“Too bad.” His finger disappeared into his mouth. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing, embarrassing her in such a manner. She turned her back, but he trapped her against the table.
His hands surrounded her waist, and he drew her against his chest. She could smell the spicy male scent of him, of shaving soap and pine. With his fingertips beneath the curve of her breast, her breath hitched.
“I’m hosting a ball tomorrow night, at Rothburne House.”
She was completely distracted by his physical presence. His words hardly meant anything, but she managed to nod. “All right.”
“It isn’t necessary for you to attend. You may remain here, instead.” He released her, and she turned her attention back to the cake.
“Oh.”
It wasn’t necessary for her to attend? Confusion filled her up inside, and she didn’t know what to think. This ball was a second chance, after she’d declined the previous invitation. Why wouldn’t he want her there?
Her stomach tightened with fear. Maybe he didn’t want anyone else to know about their marriage. But, no, that wasn’t possible. She’d lived here for nearly a fortnight, long enough for London to be well aware of her presence.
Did Whitmore still want her to remain his wife? She didn’t know his intentions. He’d sent the flowers and numerous dresses that she hadn’t worn. But perhaps that was only to compete with Freddie Reynolds’s courtship, not because he cared for her.
If she were a better wife, she’d attend the ball at his side. She’d face her fears and fight for their marriage. But she hadn’t the slightest idea of how to conduct herself. It was impossible.
Not to mention, he didn’t want her there. No, that wasn’t right. He’d said it wasn’t necessary for her to attend. But what if she did come?
Think, Emily.There was only one day. Not enough time to prepare herself. Her mind whirled while she began pouring the batter into greased pans. She picked up a tin of candied almonds for the cake tops, and Stephen filched one. Out of instinct, her hand covered his to stop him.
He halted, amusement in his eyes. “Am I not allowed to have one? Or did you want it for yourself?”
His teasing startled her, and she didn’t protest when he slipped the candied almond into her mouth.
The act made her body tighten, made her want to drag him closer for a kiss. But no, she couldn’t do that.
Emily dried her hands on her apron, masking the sudden pulse of trepidation. Self-doubts multiplied, making her wonder why she was even considering this. The earl couldn’t know how cruel society could be. As his wife, she would be scrutinized and found wanting.
“I’ll see you at dinner.” He took a handful of candied almonds with him, striding away. Another dinner, another conversation. Another empty bed.
Emily closed her eyes. It was time to take a chance on what she really wanted.
Chapter Nine
