She quickly walked away and took a restoring breath as she set about boiling water for tea. Once that was started, she turned her attention back to the dreaded pitcher that she couldn’t quite reach. Lifting her skirts, she got back on the stool, determined that it wouldn’t elude her this time. Why her father had ever thought it necessary to shove it so far back in the cabinet she would never know.
Daring to rise on her tiptoes, Dove had nearly grabbed hold of the handle when the stool decided to scoot on the floor. Her balance was immediately in peril and she started to fall forward. With a cry of alarm, she closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact—but it never came.
A strong pair of arms caught her.
She hastily opened her eyes to discover the viscount was at just the correct level to lock gazes with her. Her hands had managed to find their way to his shoulders and his were around her waist to steady her.
“You should be more careful,” he said huskily, as he slowly let her slide down his length until her feet touched the floor.
She blinked, because she hadn’t expected him to follow her into the kitchen. “You’re… here.” It was all her blank mind could think of to say.
“Yes.” His focus never left her face, but more particularly, her mouth.
Aware of his regard, she dared to moisten her lips, and his gaze darkened with something entirely dangerous and… enticing. Dove had never felt this sort of wicked temptation before and she had to admit it was rather exciting. And when he started to move closer to her, she couldn’t find it in herself to stop him.
Her pulse fluttered the moment his mouth touched hers. She held her breath as his lips gently caressed hers with expert precision. He knew exactly how to entice her to open up to him, as his tongue slid along the seam of her lips. She gasped and he took the opportunity to explore what she offered, however unknowingly. As the kiss deepened, Dove clutched his jacket and held on as her head began to spin. It was hard to discern if her feet were still on solid ground, or if she was floating somewhere above her body.
The slight tinkle of a bell slid through Dove’s conscious, but it didn’t completely register in her mind until the viscount drew back from her. Only then did it become apparent where she was—and what she’d been doing.
Immediately, she disentangled herself from Lord Markel as she jumped down from the stool. “That’s my father. I gave him a bell to ring when he needed me… Oh! The tea.” She couldn’t seem to think straight, still flustered from his kiss.
As she put a hand to her forehead, he said, “Tend to your father and I’ll take over the tea.”
She glanced at him curiously. “You’re a guest. I couldn’t possibly—”
He gave her a gentle shove toward the doorway. “Go.”
Her shoulders slumped and she nodded. “Very well. I shall return in a moment.”
Dove walked up the stairs and paused at the landing, clutching the railing as she did so. Her lips were still tingling with Lord Markel’s kiss. She had never been kissed like that before. Most of the village boys gave her a wide berth since she was the vicar’s daughter. That’s all she had ever been and it had been enough.
But today…
She shook her head. It was merely an impulse in the moment and nothing more. Lord Markel was not a permanent part of her life, and she would not settle for anything less. He could have his peccadilloes with other ladies. She was quite sure that he didn’t lack for feminine companionship and she would not become his latest conquest.
With her resolve in place, she straightened her shoulders and walked into her father’s room.
Chapter Four
Cain didn’t know what had possessed him to kiss Miss Meriwether, whether it was still the remnants of his fantasy swirling about in his mind, or that the opportunity had merely presented itself, but he told himself it wouldn’t happen again. He was not here to satisfy his lust, but to try to curb his lewd lifestyle so that he didn’t end up like James.
He shuddered, feeling as if a rabbit had already run across his grave, and turned his attention to the tea kettle which was steaming. He poured most of it into the teapot and set the tea to steeping, and then gathered the few things he could find and placed them on a tray. Before he carried it to the parlor, he glanced up at the pitcher that Miss Meriwether had been struggling to obtain. He reached up and easily got it down and set it on the counter, hoping it could be the olive branch for his behavior. He gathered the tray and headed for the parlor.
Cain had just taken the first sip of his tea when Miss Meriwether returned. She looked slightly harried. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“Yes. Papa just needed me to stoke the fire. He was starting to feel a chill in the air.” She pointed at the tray and frowned. “Why did you bring that in here?”
He glanced at the offending item in question. “I thought I was invited to tea,” he noted dryly.
“Well, yes, but I didn’t expect you to—”
“Lend a helping hand?” he finished for her. He rolled his eyes. “Really, you would think that as a viscount I am completely helpless. I grew up with servants attending us, but that didn’t mean I didn’t also follow them around and pay attention to what they were doing.”
Her face flushed a charming rose pink. “Of course. I didn’t mean to infer that you weren’t capable—”
“Sit down, Miss Meriwether,” he commanded gently. “And enjoy some tea with me.”
She hesitated only a moment and then sat down on the settee next to him, although he noted she made certain not even the hem of her dress was in danger of brushing his trousers. She poured her tea and added sugar, but no cream. However, it was the moment she took the first sip and made a small sound in the back of her throat that Cain froze. He couldn’t move. His teacup was halfway to his mouth, but that noise was something from his nightly imagination and his cock instantly pulsed to life. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to look away to gain control of himself.
