Charming him without trying.
Charming him in a way he had not imagined possible. Demon had always prided himself on his ability to remain unscathed, unaffected. He gambled without compunction. He wooed without thought. He bedded any woman he wanted, and he damn well never wanted her twice.
And yet he, who had never been a fool over a woman before, found himself unable to keep his eyes from Mira or his admiration to himself. He wanted her twice. More than twice.Good God, he wanted her again and again and again, without end.
The ferocity of his emotions startled him as he took in the sight of her, still masked, her tresses no longer as immaculate as they had been upon her arrival. Her efforts had sent a few errant wisps down from the knot keeping her hair under control. They framed her face.
She was enchanting, damn her.
They were alone in the kitchens of Lady Fortune, in the wake of a whirlwind effort to fill the boxes for the poor and see them out the door before the hour was too late. Thanks to the plentiful stores which had arrived from her own kitchens, they’d had more than enough to supply the hungry awaiting their nightly dinner on the street.
New Pup had been sent back to Gen, along with her dog Arthur, who was older and much more well-behaved, particularly when bribed with sausages. Davy had gone to bed for the evening. Chef Armande had returned to The Devil’s Spawn. The kitchen maids had performed their rigorous cleaning whilst Demon and Mirabel had overseen the packing of the boxes.
Everyone was gone, the hive of bustling activity slowing for the evening.
“Our work here is done,” he said softly, leaning his hip against a big wooden table and studying her thoughtfully.
Ever a surprise, this woman.
“I do hope I did not prove a hindrance,” she said with a small smile that revealed her even teeth.
When she smiled, it felt as if all the breath had been sucked directly from his lungs. He wanted to kiss her. And bed her. And kiss her some more.
“You were far from a hindrance.” He reached out, brushing a tendril of hair on her cheek behind her ear. His hand lingered there. Because now that he was touching her, he did not want to stop. “You were an incredible help. Ordinarily, the packing of the boxes involves Armande shouting, Davy thieving sweets, and the maids tripping over the damned dogs.”
Contrary to her earlier declaration that she would be of no use in the kitchens, she had swept within like a general armed with a battle plan. She had hastily organized everyone, from the lowliest scullery to Davy and the chef, giving everyone a task. When the additional food had promptly arrived, she had also orchestrated the dividing of the meals.
Her smile turned shy. “I am accustomed to running a household. Much like being a mother, it requires dedication, determination, organization, and an endless amount of patience.”
“I am dedicated and determined,” he said, unable to resist caressing her jaw. “Patience, however…I will admit I am lacking.”
Especially when it came to her.
He should have bedded her hours ago. He should have been inside her by now. At the least, his tongue should be on her slick, responsive pearl.
But she had fretted over people she had never met. People whose paths she would never cross. And she had been hell-bent upon seeing them all fed.
“You have been patient enough with me,” she said, voice low.
She was referring to her lack of experience, he knew.
“I can be when it is required of me.” He stepped nearer, breathing in the headiness of her scent, above the familiar smells of the kitchens. “And especially when the reward is worth the wait.”
“Oh.”
She was flustered. He wanted to see her pink cheeks. Her shyness was deuced sweet. All the lovers he’d had in the past had been bold, sure of themselves. He liked the hint of vulnerability she could not always hide.
Idly, he tugged at the ties of her mask. “May I take this off?”
Her gaze cast about the room, as if suspecting an interloper to suddenly appear.
“You are safe here, with me,” he assured her. “No one will see you. They are all through with their duties for the night, and Tiny Tom will still be overseeing the floor until it is time to lock the doors for the evening.”
She nodded. “If you wish.”
Thank Christ.
He plucked at the knot and whisked the cursed thing away. Somehow, it was a sign of the anonymity which lingered between them. A taunt he did not like. A reminder that for all the intimacies they had shared yesterday, she had only seen fit to trust him with her Christian name. Not a title. Nothing more.
