Whatever happened to you, Miss Clemens?
Most women he’d known appreciated a man’s attention. Except her. If he had to guess, she’d rather shut herself away in a wardrobe than grant him a second to admire her looks.
Her feet tapped loudly on the steps as she hurried down the stairs like a scampering mouse being chased by a prowling cat. Caleb took his time, enjoying her breathless pauses when she stopped to check if he was still behind her. Hell, she was lucky there were children and two other women in the house, or he might make an effort to catch her. Watching her cheeks flush each time she glanced his way and hearing her gasp when she saw he was close was starting to wear on his urge to pull her back to him and kiss her senseless.
Lust and desire, he told himself bluntly. How long had it been since he’d had a woman? Damn if he could remember. He’d been so absorbed in his building projects in France and later by his return to England and the deaths of his father and brother, he’d not had the time or energy to consider his baser needs. They’d lain dormant until the door to this house had swung open and he’d looked into Miss Clemens’s eyes, at which point they’d surged to life with a vengeance.
Christ!
This really would not do.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he muttered an oath and strode out of the house to where Miss Clemens now waited. Except she wasn’t waiting. She was walking toward a small stone building about a hundred yards away from the main house. Caleb quickened his stride to catch up with her.
“It’s a beautiful property,” he said. Squeals sounded from somewhere behind him, and he instinctively glanced back to see two little girls chasing after each other. “There’s certainly plenty of space for the children to run about.”
She tilted her chin. “Do you like children, Mr. Crawford?”
He blinked and stuck his hands in his pockets. What a strange question. “Doesn’t everyone?”
She pressed her lips together. “No.”
“Hmm.” He wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. “I don’t have much experience with them, I confess, but their ability to offer unconditional love to those who care for them is worth all the effort, I suspect.”
“It most certainly is,” she agreed, and although she didn’t look at him and he didn’t look at her, he could tell she was smiling from the sound of her voice.
“Do you not wish to have some of your own one day?” He wasn’t sure where he’d found the nerve to ask such a forward question, and yet somehow he had.
She didn’t answer right away, and he began to think she never would, which was not surprising, but then she said, “I believe the time for that has passed.”
The sadness with which she said it tore at his heart. “Why?” They arrived at the door to the cottage, and she busied her hands with finding the key which seemed to be lost in one of her pockets. “You’re still young enough to attract a man’s attention, Miss Clemens.”
Her gaze shot up to lock with his. “I…” She lifted the key to the door between them, paused for a second, and then quickly unlocked the lock. The door creaked open, catching on the floor and sticking. “Sorry. This probably needs to be fixed as well,” she muttered before pushing her way through the narrow opening.
Caleb squeezed inside as well and considered the space he’d been offered to live in. It was small but just as clean as Lady Cassandra had promised, and the roof here looked much more solid than the one that covered the main house.
“I’ll give you some sheets for the bed,” Miss Clemens told him. She cleared her throat and appeared to consider each corner of the room, looking everywhere but at him. “If there’s anything else you need…”
She glanced at him at that moment and went completely still.
He wasn't surprised, because he knew he was staring at her while compiling a long list of all the things he needed. Each item more wicked than the last. Her eyes widened and as they did so, he knew it must show on his face. Worst of all, he wasn't sure how to stop it. The presence of a bed wasn't helping.
“I'll get you some fresh towels too,” she said. “And a wash basin and pitcher so you can...” She waved her hand aimlessly before dropping it to her side. “Perhaps a book or two would be nice as well. Do you read, Mr. Crawford? Yes, of course you do since you're quite well-spoken. There is a library that you are welcome to use, though it's not very grand, but it does contain a few novels I think you'd enjoy and—”
“Miss Clemens,” he muttered, closing the distance between them in two easy strides.
“Yes?” she squeaked.
He met her gaze boldly before lowering it to the fullness of her lips. Her breath hitched and he knew she thought he might kiss her. The temptation was certainly there, burning through his every restraint. But it would be a mistake.
This knowledge made him look up even as the tips of his fingers tingled with the urge to touch her. He took a deep breath, inhaling her scent: fresh linen and starch with a hint of lavender.
Inspiration struck and he decided to allow himself a moment of pleasure. “Cobwebs,” he murmured.
Confusion puckered her brow. “What?”
Her voice was but a soft exhalation spilling over her plump lower lip. Caleb steeled himself and reached up, shamelessly sliding his fingers between a few stray locks of her hair.
He couldn't regret the lie he'd told her. Now that he'd touched her, discovered how silky her hair felt against his skin, he knew he would have been mad not to take the liberty.
