Page 13 of The Tantalizing of a Scandalous Rake

Shaking his head at himself, he pushed away from the doorframe. Anyone would think he was some whelp, hoping to get his first taste of a woman. Yes, it had been some time, and yes, there was no denying Rosie lived up to her nickname and beyond. But he had no intention of breaking a promise to his mother—even if the motive behind her manipulations was to force his hand. Either way, he would not fall for her tricks.

He cleared his throat and she whirled, knife in hand. Her eyes widened as he lifted his hands. “Good Lord, Adam. You scared me out my wits.”

“Do you mind lowering the knife?”

“Oh.” She set it down and swiped her hands over the stained apron. “What are you doing here? You should be abed. The last time I checked, you were asleep.” She drew out a chair and dragged it over to him, then put a hand to his shoulder to urge him down.

He could have fought her but the journey downstairs had tired him, so he sank onto it and peered around the generous kitchen. Lit by several candles, a table scarred by knife marks dominated the center of it. Few of the surfaces were clear with evidence of current use and the demand for food from the day. Atop the black range at the rear of the room, a huge pan awaited ingredients.

He pressed a hand to his stomach. “Alas, my hunger woke me.”

“Well, that is a good sign. You must be close to fully healed.”

Likely more than close. Another week and he could easily make the journey home without fear of injuring himself on the rough roads to Langmere. But he did not want to admit that. Not yet.

“I think my body tires of broth.” He held up a quick hand before she could respond. “Not that your broth is anything of which to complain about but a man can only live on broth for so long.”

Rosie smiled, her eyes crinkling. “You are in luck. I still have some warm pies.” She moved across the kitchen so swiftly he felt too much like an old man in his current state.

He eyed her. “I did not anticipate you being awake so late.”

She set the plate on the table and aided him in moving the chair closer. “My cook Simon is with his wife. She is to give birth soon and is in delicate health.”

“A trying time to be sure.”

“Yes, and I would not wish to be in his shoes. But it leaves me with his duties.” She gestured to the giant pot. “Stew. For tomorrow,” she explained.

“You could not find someone to replace him?”

She shook her head. “No one cooks like Simon. Besides, I would not pay a wage twice.”

He lifted his brows. “You pay a wage even though the man does not work?”

She shrugged. “He has need of it, especially now he will have an additional mouth to feed, and he shall not be gone much longer with any luck.”

“You are a more generous employer than most.”

“It has little to do with generosity and more to do with wanting to ensure my cook remains loyal to me. I would not have him take his skills elsewhere.”

Adam did not argue with her, but he suspected her generosity stemmed not only from business acumen, though from what he had observed and the confessions Harriet confided in him, Rosie ran the tavern with all the shrewdness of some of the biggest businessmen in London. However, he’d seen the care she had given him—a mere accidental burden. No doubt, this woman cared a great deal for this cook and there was more softness beneath her strong shell than she’d like to admit.

Notthat he would be saying that aloud to her, however, he thought with a slight smile. Something he’d learned about Rosie over the past week was she had more pride and strength than any woman he’d ever met.

∞∞∞

No stranger to men not believing her capable of running a business with a shrewd and calculating mind, she ignored the smile and busied herself with finishing the vegetables for the stew that would cook overnight.

Whilst she sliced aggressively through the vast quantity of carrots, she forced her attention on the steady movement of the blade. A wise thing to be sure as Adam promised to be a distraction. With his hair tousled, his shirt open at the neck, and his feet bare, he created quite the picture. Not that he intended it of course, but Adam had the ability to look beautiful no matter what. Even when he had scarcely been lucid, his good looks tugged at her to give him a second look.

She could not believe quite how ridiculous she was being about it, though. Many handsome men came into her tavern. Goodness, many of them proposed marriage and riches. But none of them piqued her interest quite like Adam.

Stealing a glance over her shoulder, she clenched her teeth and savagely tore through the next carrot. She’d always known she’d take over the inn and even as a child, there had been something delightful and satisfying about feeding a hungry traveler. She’d followed her Ma around while she served the food and watched avidly whilst the customers tucked into their fare.

However, feeding the hoards had never filled her with this soft, strange feeling as though her insides were suddenly made of wool. Just seeing the satisfied look on Adam’s face as he devoured the pie made her yearn for something she’d never thought she’d have.

A family to care for.

It was impossible anyway. She had no time...and well, she didn’t have the body for it. She’d known for a long time she could never offer a man children, ever since her erratic courses had started.

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