She’d never met a man like Kiernan. He was imposing, intense, sometimes even short-tempered. But underneath all of that, he was genuinely caring and considerate. And sweet. There was no other way to describe what he’d done.
Unable to wipe the smile from her face, she made her way down the servants’ stairway. Rather than taking the long way out of the servants’ side exit, she slipped into the hallway that led to the back door.
As she stepped up to the door, it swung open.
Kiernan stalked over the threshold, nearly barreling her over but stopping just in time. He pulled himself back. “Blast, I’m sorry.”
She found herself almost hungrily taking him in from his bare head and unruly waves of auburn hair to his jaw shadowed by a layer of scruff. He was usually clean shaven, so the day’s worth of stubble made her fingers twitch with the urge to scrape her fingers over it. And that dimple in his chin, she would linger there, to be sure.
“Mr. Shanahan,” she started, but then stopped at thequick frown that wrinkled his forehead. Was he serious about her calling him Kiernan?
As if hearing her silent question, he crossed his arms and cocked his head in an almost arrogant manner. If he hadn’t been her employer, she might have crossed her arms back in a battle of wills. But she couldn’t make her muscles work to do anything but stand and stare at him.
“Alannah.” The tenor of his voice sent a tingle up each bone of her spine. “Say it.”
“Say what?” She was embarrassed at how breathless she sounded.
“My name.”
“I did.”
He narrowed his eyes, hiding the darkening blue. Something even in that narrowed gaze pinned her in place and commanded her heart to beat harder for him.
At the closing of a door from a room at the front of the house, he flicked his gaze beyond her. As if assuring himself that they were still alone, he took a step toward her so he was less than a foot away, close enough that she could almost feel the heat of his body.
She couldn’t say his name and risk anyone hearing her being so casual. But before she scurried away, she had to bring up the book. Especially because there was no telling when she’d see him again. “I thank you for the book.”
“Of course.”
“I was surprised to find it in my room just now.”
“I had one of the lads at the mine ride into town for it, then bring it here.”
He’d had someone do that specifically for her? “I don’t know how I can thank you.”
“I do.”
Mercy. This man was too much.
“Say my name, Al-an-nah.” He dragged out her name, and with each syllable, she felt it to her core.
She pursed her lips together to keep from doing as he asked.
A grin tilted up one side of his mouth, sending her off-balance like someone who’d been dared to walk atop a narrow stone wall. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her footing without falling for him. Maybe it was already too late for that.
“Fine. Kiernan.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“’Twas fearsome hard, so don’t be asking me to do it again now.”
At the clatter of footsteps coming from the opposite end of the hallway—the sharp ones that belonged to Mrs. Shanahan—Alannah froze.
“Alannah?” the woman called. “Could you please come here?”
Alannah turned to find the matron standing just outside the parlor. She was attired in a fashionable evening gown and her hair neatly arranged into a chignon. She appeared as lovely as always, and her voice was pleasant enough, but it contained a hint of a warning.
Had the matron overheard the conversation with Kiernan? Had she heard the informality between them? What if she’d heard about the gift of the book?
