She straightened and seemed to study her work. Then, with a satisfied nod, she removed her foot from the pedal, and the lathe began to whine to a stop. The noise lessened as the machine slowly stopped spinning, and she wiped her hands on the leather apron she was wearing. She was just reaching for her work when he raised his voice and tried again.
“Excuse me?”
This time, she whirled around, surprise on her face, and he saw her for the first time.
Ember. His face split into a grin. “I’m glad to see you!”
But she frowned. “Max. How did you know I was here?”
“I…I heard you?” He’d been upstairs after all.
Her eyes darted about the big room. “Did you follow me from the inn? I did not expect to bother anyone, I am sorry.” She wiped her palms on her apron again, but this time looked as though it was more of a nervous gesture. “Lawrence was close to my father—Papa was the manager here—and he gave me permission to use the machinery for my projects. I know I am not supposed to be here.”
Her father had been the manager here? Why did that pluck at Max’s memory? Something important had been said some time ago about that position…but he couldn’t recall it, and had no interest in focusing on remembering it. Not withherhere with him.
Wanting to put her at ease, Max tried for a charming grin as he slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket. “What projects?” he asked, hoping it might distract her from her worry he was mad about her being there. Granted, she wasn’t an employee, but if Lawrence had given her permission, it meant the foreman vouched for her, and Max would find out more information before making any changes.
Besides, she was clearly skilled at using the lathe.
Her eyes had narrowed, and she took a deep breath. “I am— My father was a skilled engraver, and he taught me everything he knew. Sometimes I come here after hours to turn a piece, then work on it back at the inn.”
“In that little workshop where I met you.” Max was already nodding. “That makes sense.”
It seemed she finally realized he wasn’t going to yell at her for being there, and her shoulders began to relax. She reached up to pull the heavy apron over her head, and the motion pulled her braid across her shoulder.
Why was he so fascinated by that braid?
“Baroness Oliphant does not approve of my hobby, so I have to sneak out. That is why I was so defensive,” she explained, as she crossed near him to hang the apron up in between the lathe and the press. “You are likely here on your boss’s behalf, I suppose?”
His boss’s behalf…? Oh, she must mean Andrew Prince.
“Yeah,” he murmured, his attention still caught by those dark red strands of hair lying against her simple blouse.
When she was done with the apron, she didn’t return to the lathe and her project. Instead, she halted near him, near enough to touch. When she lowered her chin, she watched him through her lashes, and he found himself already leaning toward her.
“Are you going to tell your boss ye found me here, Max?” she asked in a low voice.
He had to clear his throat to get his voice to work, although he kept it low to match hers. “I don’t think he would care,” he answered truthfully. “You’re not doing any harm.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
Almost unconsciously, his hand rose. He realized he was reaching for her braid and turned the motion into a scratch of his chin at the last moment, certain it looked awkward as hell. “I’d, uh, I’d love to see whatever it is you’re working on.”
“Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “I would love to show you!”
She began to turn, and he—without realizing his intent—put his hand on her arm and stopped her.
Ember turned back to him with a raised brow, and Max’s mind went blank.
He couldn’t come up with one damn thing to say.There was a bug on your sleevesounded fake, andI just wanted an excuse to touch yousounded creepy, andJust checking the size of your muscles. Wow, feel these things!was just weird.
So he blurted what was actually on his mind. “You have beautiful hair.”
Her lips formed a little “oh” of surprise as her hand rose to touch her braid, and he found himself becoming jealous—of her hand, sure, but more so of those lips. He wanted to be the one to taste them, to make her sigh in surprise, to make her say,“Oh.”
He wanted to kiss her, more than he’d ever wanted to kiss anyone else, ever.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but didn’t remove his hand.
