“Me included.” He cupped her cheek, his gaze intense. “May I ask a favor?”
“Anything,” she said promptly.
“In the future, don’t leave my bed without waking me.”
He’s referencing the future…which means he wants to be with me again.
Feeling giddy, she said, “I won’t.”
“Thank you.”
His slow smile felt like a gift. Then he kissed her, courting her mouth as if he could do it all day. Her toes curled, her eyes closed, and she clutched at his shoulders, drowning in sensation.
“By Jove, you tempt a man,” he murmured. “But we should save this for bedtime. For now, let’s have a look at the library.”
Her lashes flew open.
He was already striding into the heart of the room, examining her handiwork. She’d left the curtains open, and the sunlight from the sparkling bay windows illuminated the high ceilings and bookshelf-lined walls. Because of the woodworm damage, she’d asked the carpenters to patch the holes and paint the shelves dark green. She’d thought the color went well with the carpets, which, after repeated cleanings, were revealed to be deep sage and patterned with flowers and leaves. The floral motif was echoed in the plasterwork on the ceiling, now restored to a pristine white.
The only thing she hadn’t been able to fix was one of the fireplaces. Despite multiple cleanings of the brick firebox, it had spewed smoke and ashes. Since there was another hearth to warm the room, she’d decided to cover it up. At her behest, William and Fred had transported a cabinet from the morning room; the mahogany showpiece had beautiful relief carvings and scrollwork. The lower half of the cabinet was deeper, with drawers which she’d used to store knickknacks. The upper part was narrower and had two glass display cases where she’d placed interesting objects, including a chunk of crystallized mineral, seashells, and figurines.
Lord Ethan wandered down the length of the library, his hands clasped behind his back. She didn’t know what he was thinking as he walked along the shelves, gazing at the neat line of volumes. She followed him, her stomach aflutter.
“You sorted the books by color,” he remarked.
She cursed herself for following her silly impulse. During her stint as a clerk at Wallace’s Bookshop, she’d rearranged the books by shade and size because she thought it looked better and helped her to locate volumes. No one had complained, but since the business had catered to those looking for erotic materials, the patrons had tended to keep their heads down.
“The books are still categorized by subject,” she said in a rush. “I can re-organize them alphabetically if you wish?—”
“I like what you’ve done.”
“You do?”
“You’ve transformed the library. Given it a unique and warm appeal.”
She basked in his approval the way a cat basks in the sun.
“Thank you, Xenia.” He took her hand, brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “For everything you’ve done to make this manor a home.”
“You’re welcome,” she said softly.
“This should probably wait,” he said, “but I find myself impatient to discuss our arrangement.”
“I was wondering about that too,” she admitted. “How will we keep our relationship a secret? The other servants cannot know?—”
“I concur. Your reputation must be protected at all costs.”
“I was more concerned for yours.” She hitched her shoulders. “No one cares about what I do. I’m nobody?—”
“Don’t say that. You are someone—someone special, Xenia.”
His ferocity clogged her throat.
“No one has ever said that to me before,” she said in wonder.
“You had best get used to hearing it.”
For once, his preemptory tone didn’t bother her in the least.
