Then again, she’d seen farther into his soul than the friends who knew him best.
And, of course, she set him aflame in a way he’d not felt since he’d reached his majority. To be next to her, to inhale her light, feminine scent, gave him the same feeling he experienced when clearing a high hurdle on a sunny day on his liveliest grey. Touching her was a fast-paced reel, sending his heart racing and his mind spinning.
Nothing improper has occurred.
Yet.
How many times had he internally replayed that pithy but pregnant exchange? In fact, he’d kept his distance because he hadn’t wanted things to progress too quickly.
Lightening had struck again, but this time, he wanted to harness the power.
He sighed as he ran his gaze over the parapets. He’d hoped she’d be dazzled by Hevenhyll Castle. Most people were, naturally. But she’d cast a critical eye over his abode and then shivered with dismay.
Notan auspicious start.
Then again, she hadn’t been impressed with any part of his consequence so far. Why should a fortress with a long and—frankly— terrifying history be any different?
The porters opened both heavy, wooden doors at just the proper moment. And then, with a light step he bounded up the internal marble stairs with the energy of someone ten years his junior.
He spotted his housekeeper, Mrs. Whitby, hurrying off in the direction of the laundry and quickly and quietly fell into pace beside her.
“Why hello, Mrs. Whitby.”
“Oh!” She placed her hand against her chest. “I see you haven’t changed your sneaking ways!” Her voice scolded but her eyes twinkled.
“It’s Ashbey’s boy, I suppose. Brings out the Puck in me.”
Her slanted glance suggested she did not believe he needed any encouragement to create mischief.
“Have I troubled you too much with my unexpected guests?”
“If course not.” She sniffed. “The message you sent with a postillion allowed me a fullthree hoursto prepare.”
He kept his laugh to himself.Yes.Returning to Hevenhyll was heartening—his deepest secrets haunted the grounds, but the gothic castle had been his cradle, and its people, the source of his strength. And none more loyally serving than the efficient, ever-discreet, comfortingly over-familiar, Mrs. Whitby.
“Are my guests all settled in the nursery?
“The children are.”
“You have my gratitude, as always.” He paused; head cocked. “But only the children?”
Mrs. Whitby hesitated, as if torn between pressing the matter or deferring. “I thought you might invite Mrs. Small back into the household while the children are in residence. The arrangement suited the little master his last visit.”
“But he hadn’t his own nurse with us, then.”
“And I’m certain the young woman is fine. ...Only, Mrs. Small would be disappointed if you didn’t ask her to stay. She’s not had children to tend to for some time. And many hands make light work.”
True.And he knew his old nurse would delight in the opportunity to spend time with Ash’s children...while taking every chance to quiz him on the absence of his own.
He could put up with a bit of gentle probing, however...especially if Mrs. Montrose found herself with more time on her hands than she’d originally anticipated.
“You’ve convinced me, Mrs. Whitby.”
“I’m sure it was your own idea,” she replied innocently.
“My own idea, was it?”
“I wouldn’t presume.”
