She couldn’t imagine calling him by his given name. It just wasn’t done.
“I came to see how you fared last eve.” He strode past her and the scent of fresh rain upon pine floated by on the crisp morning air.
“Good morning, Orinda. I imagine you’re happy to have company other than my own.”
She turned as he spoke to see him talking to her great-aunt’s portrait. About to remark on his odd behavior, her attention was diverted by the old-fashioned queue of his hair. Having his midnight strands pulled back must have been what caused her to think his features were more pronounced in the daylight. Despite that reasoning, her gaze drifted to his backside which was clearly defined by his tan trousers. As he turned, she quickly lifted her gaze, her cheeks heating at almost being caught ogling him. “I must thank you again for readying the cottage. I had no hint as to what to expect.”
He frowned. “Did you not know about Brambling Cottage?”
She grimaced. “Yes, I knew of it, but not the dimensions. Truthfully, I expected but a single room. I was much relieved to see such comfortable living arrangements.” She hesitated, glancing toward the opening next to the fireplace which led to the kitchen behind it. “Yet even expecting such limited accommodations, I fear I have arrived ill-prepared.”
He smiled at her, his white teeth beaming and his stunning eyes crinkling. “Then it’s fortuitous I’m here.”
She smiled back, unable to help herself. He was so quick to smile that she was quite sure he did so often. “And how might your presence be of help to my predicament?”
His brows lifted in surprise though his lips still showed hints of his smile. “It’s a predicament we have, do we? Then I must come to your aid at once. First, tell me, have you broken your fast?”
At the seriousness of his tone, she couldn’t help a small chuckle. “Yes, I have managed to make a pot of tea and ingest a scone that traveled with me.”
He gave her an exaggerated sigh of relief. “That’s an excellent first step.” He leaned forward as if to impart a great secret. “Tell me. Would you perhaps have a bit of tea left for a guest?”
At his suggestion, her cheeks heated once again. “Oh, my. I haven’t offered you tea.” She looked about, not sure if she’d seen a tea tray on which to serve.
“Then shall we remove to the kitchen to quench our thirst and make plans for your comfort?”
At his offer, she realized he meant for them to drink in the kitchen. It had been odd to do so by herself, but it felt much more so with Mr. Noah Kingman, despite the fact she did understand he knew much more about these things. “I would appreciate that.” She moved forward to lead the way, but her foot caught on something and she started to fall.
He caught her to him, effectively saving her. But the strength of his arms and the hardness of his body had her own reacting in very inappropriate ways as memories of her dreams flooded her mind. Heat filled her with embarrassment, and she quickly straightened herself, stepping back. “I apologize. I’m normally more graceful.”
He grinned as his knowing gaze scanned her face. “I have no doubt of that. This is a new abode for you after all.” Still, he stepped to the side and waited for her to precede him like any gentleman.
In the kitchen, he stood behind the chair opposite her plate of crumbs and now cold tea, making the room smaller by his presence.
She quickly distracted herself with setting out another cup and lifting the teapot from where she’d left it over the fire.
“I see you found Orinda’s diary.”
She looked over her shoulder to see him pick up the tiny book and page through it as if it held great secrets. “Yes. I was very disappointed she stopped writing after the first page. Do you know if she made it to Gretna Green?”
She brought the teapot over and poured for them both before setting it on the trivet located in the middle of the sideboard.
He waited until she’d taken her seat, then sat himself, placing the book reverently on the table between them. “Yes, she did.”
She felt an odd sense of relief at the news, but refocused her attention on her guest, who watched her avidly. “I have sugar which I found in the cupboard and can only assume you provided. Thank you. But I have no cream.” Again, embarrassment filled her and her hand shook as she offered the bowl.
His hand grasped hers as his other took the bowl. “Lady Abercorn, though these surroundings are new to you, I promise you can be happy here if you welcome these changes in your life.”
The warmth of his hand holding hers sent a fission of desire so strong that she pulled hers away and stood. Confused, uncomfortable, and besieged by uncertainty, she fought back tears. “I know not how to cook, but even if I did, I have nothing but pin money and a few jewels. I don’t have any family or friends.” She sniffed, refusing to cry in front of him, instead spinning around so he wouldn’t see.
Taking deep breaths, she attempted to stop her tears, horrified she had confessed all her troubles. She froze as she heard his chair push back from the table. Hopefully, he’d be a gentleman and simply leave.
He was not. His footsteps drew closer before she felt his hands gently cover her shoulders. She remained absolutely still, her tears drying up as her body focused on where he touched her. He truly shouldn’t be touching her.
“Do not be afraid, Juliet.” His breath whispered past her ear, causing tingles of excitement to spark throughout her body. “I promise you, all will be well. You’re safe here.”
How could he be so sure? She turned around to ask, dislodging his hands, only to find herself inches from him, looking up into mesmerizing green eyes.
He cupped her cheek. “Trust me.”
