“Good morning,” he said softly. By the light of day, his blue eyes, though still dark and intense, were less intimidating. And his expression was less imposing.
Even so, she couldn’t seem to find her voice to respond to him. It had been so much easier to talk to him in the darkness.
He ducked inside and then stood with his arms behind his back, taking in the center table with the abandoned lumps of dough amidst the flour. Then his gaze shifted to her, pausing on her cheek and nose.
“Do I have flour on my face?” She lifted a hand and swiped at the spots, hoping to make herself more presentable. Her hair was coiled into the required knot and stowed under her maid’s cap, and her apron was mostly clean over her black uniform.
“You’re making it worse.” With a grin making its way up his lips, he started around the table toward her.
She took a step back until she bumped against the wall and window. Several glass bottles on the sill rattled together, and she spun to keep them from toppling. As she started to straighten them, Kiernan’s arm swept past her.
Standing directly behind her, almost boxing her in, he steadied one too.
She was suddenly conscious of his clean, masculine aftershave—a woodsy scent she’d noticed on other occasions but that was pungent this time of day and at his proximity.
His fingers lingered on the bottle, even though it was safe, and he seemed to be looking past her out the window. “Ah, the doe and her fawns are out this morning.” His voice rumbled low beside her ear, and his chest was near her back and radiated warmth.
She was almost tempted to lean into him, but she held herself still and pretended she didn’t notice how close he was, focusing instead on the deer. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”
He didn’t respond.
As with that morning in the carriage ride to Oakland, she felt an invisible tug toward him, something magnetic and powerful. Kiernan Shanahan was a difficult man to resist. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted or needed to resist him anymore.
Her thoughts were tangled, the threads of her reasoning crisscrossing first one way and then back the other. There were so many reasons why she needed to keep herself from falling for him. There were also reasons why she wanted to throw aside caution and embrace the possibilities.
Whatever she decided, she couldn’t stand in the kitchen practically in his arms. Cook would be back soon. For that matter, anyone could come by, including Kiernan’s mother.
She sidled away from him. “You’re usually gone from the house by this hour.”
He didn’t move from where he stood, except that his gaze followed her. “I didn’t realize you paid attention to my schedule.”
“I don’t.” A flush climbed into her cheeks as she rounded the worktable and returned to her spot in front of the dough. “It’s just that you’ve been gone such long hours each day this week.”
“So you’ve noticed I’m gone.”
She reached for the dough, her flush working its way higher. “Mr. Shanahan, I assure you—”
“Call me Kiernan.”
She paused, her knuckles fisted and ready to begin kneading again. She didn’t have the right to call him Kiernan. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Blowing out a terse, almost exasperated breath, he shifted around to face the window, his shoulders turning rigid. He held himself motionless for several heartbeats.
She didn’t dare move either. Was he upset at her or himself?
Finally, he pivoted with a scowl. “I just came to say that I’ve thought about it more. You’re not to go out again at night. Stay in the house.”
It was her turn to stiffen. She’d been bold to speak her mind with him last night, but she couldn’t do so again today. After all, as the old saying went, a little dog can frighten a hare, but it took a big one to catch it.
She was nothing more than a little dog. What could she really do other than bark? Her bite had no strength.
He didn’t wait for her response, was already striding toward the door, his heels clicking with finality. Without another word, he exited, leaving her staring after his retreating back.
Ach, Kiernan Shanahan was a vexing man, warm toward her one moment and in the next as cold as the ocean in winter. ’Twas clear that he didn’t know what he wanted either.
Even though she’d told Bellamy she would give the match a chance, she’d said so before she’d known he had Kiernan in mind. Surely she wasn’t obligated to follow through now that she knew Bellamy had planned something so impossible.
Because the truth was ... a match with Kiernan would never work.
