“It must have attached itself to you in the attic.” His knuckles deliberately grazed her cheek before he withdrew, dropping his hand to his side. “There. All gone.”
She stared up at him, and he heard her breath tremble as she inhaled. Her response to his closeness and touch was not only palpable, but thoroughly arousing.
But then she blinked and when she looked at him again, it was with a mixture of surprise and unease. It ruined the moment and made Caleb feel like a cad for taking advantage of this woman's trust. She'd shown him hospitality without a chaperone's protection, and he'd thanked her by making her the subject of his most depraved fantasies.
“Thank you,” she told him crisply.
He almost laughed. If she knew his mind, she'd scold him instead.
Keeping that bit of information to himself, he dipped his head and aimed for politeness. “You are welcome, Miss Clemens.”
She hesitated briefly before brushing past him. “I must help Cassandra and Emily with supper,” she said as she slipped through the door. “We eat at six.”
He turned to watch her flee and then thought of something. “I don't suppose there's a lake on the property?”
“Over there behind those trees,” she called with a wave of her hand.
Caleb waited until she was out of sight before leaving the cottage and striding briskly in the direction she'd indicated. Summer was long gone so the water would probably be frigid, which was precisely what he needed in order to cool his ardor.
3
Mary rosefrom bed later than usual the following morning, not because she wasn't awake, but because the idea of encountering Mr. Crawford again unnerved her. When he'd touched her hair the day before, her body had sagged with pleasure and yearned for more. Which was something she could not afford. Not when she'd spent five years telling herself she'd never fall under another man's spell.
To do so would be a sure recipe for heartbreak, so she'd actually been proud of herself when she'd managed to resist Mr. Townsend. But Mr. Crawford... He was entirely different. He'd torn down her barriers within seconds and forced her to face her desires.
“Dear God.”
Patting her flushed cheeks, she got out of bed and dressed, deliberately selecting a high-collared dress she usually reserved for winter. Perhaps it would stop him from looking at her like she was a delicious dessert he meant to devour.
Stifling the thrill the memory of his regard evoked, Mary crept downstairs and carefully peeked inside the dining room. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted only Cassandra, Emily, and the children at the table. No sign of Mr. Crawford. Yet.
“Good morning,” she said as she went to take her seat next to Bridget so she could help the six year old butter her toast.
“You look cheerful,” Emily said. She took a sip of tea while eying Mary over the rim of her cup.
Mary shrugged and reached for the teapot. “I'm just glad to know the roof will soon be fixed.” Selecting a piece of toast she spooned some jam onto it and took a large bite. “It is a relief.”
Cassandra studied her. “Mmm...hmm...”
“What?” Mary asked.
“Nothing.” Cassandra shook her head and helped her daughter refill her glass with milk. But then she smiled and leaned across the table toward Mary with a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes. “You just never looked quite so pleased when any of the caretakers we've had in the past offered to take care of it.”
“Well,” Mary said, “they were either inefficient, lacked the necessary skills, or made ridiculous demands.”
“And Mr. Crawford is simply perfect,” Emily muttered.
“His looks certainly are,” Cassandra said with a far too knowing glance directed at Mary.
Mary picked up her toast once more and took another bite to distract herself and the others from the frayed state of her nerves. “Where is he, by the way?” So she could avoid him, of course. Or at least that was the reason she gave herself for asking.
“He rode off about an hour ago,” Emily said, “with the intention of buying supplies. Not sure when he'll be back.”
Oddly, Mary felt a twinge of disappointment, which was silly since she'd decided to ignore the man completely. Doing so would be infinitely simpler if he were somewhere else, like a mile away in the village.
Finishing breakfast, she helped the children clean their teeth with powder before escorting them back to the dining room for their lessons. She would start them on mathematics while Emily and Cassandra washed the dishes. Later, when Cassandra took over to teach them French, Mary would clean the bedrooms, do some laundering, and iron for a bit.
She placed a sheet of sums in front of each child based on their age and level of experience, guiding each of them in turn when they got stuck and needed help.
