Page 28 of The Best-Kept Secrets
Alone in the corridor, he released a pent-up breath. He loved his family. He truly did. And when taken in small doses at a large distance from the extended family, he even had some pleasant times with his mother and father. But they didn’t last. Though he’d never been to Fairfield without his parents, he felt certain the bitterness and demands for appeasement were far fewer there and much farther between. He needed that. He needed it desperately.
Duke took the tray back to the kitchen by way of the servants’ stairs. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the Marlows; he did. But he was feeling a little weary of people just then.
He smelled freshly baked bread as he drew closer to the kitchen. Eve was working her magic again. She’d done more than keep them all well fed, which was impressive enough. She’d also made him feel less alone and invisible. She’d made him smile, which was an admittedly infrequent thing.
Upon stepping into her kitchen, he began immediately searching for her. He’d missed her in the hour since he’d last been in the room. One hour. He’d told her the night before that he liked spending time with her. But it was more than that. He thought about her when they were apart, wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking about him too.
Eve was asleep in a chair near the fire. She’d admitted when he’d fetched Grandmother’s tray to having been up for a few hours already.
Careful to be as quiet as possible, Duke set the items from the tray into the basin of water before setting the tray on the worktable. He’d watched Eve washing the dishes the night before and mimicked what he’d seen then. She’d already cleaned all the other plates and bowls and pots.
Eve O’Doyle was remarkable, though he suspected she didn’t realize it. The way she navigated Grandmother without being hurt or hurtful, her ability and willingness to work as hard as she had the past day keeping everyone fed, her strength and courage in the face of a future that had just been snatched from her... The more he learned of her, the more amazed he was, and the more intrigued.
He’d come close to kissing her last night in this very kitchen. So exceedingly close. And the look in her eyes had not, to his view, been indifferent. Long after he’d climbed the stairs and retreated to the room he was using, he’d thought about that moment, filled as it had been with the thudding of his heart and the fierce temptation to wrap his arms around her and kiss her.
“You didn’t have to wash those.” Eve’s sleepy voice broke into his thoughts.
He looked in the direction of the fire and saw her walking with sleep-heavy steps toward him. “You washed all the others,” he pointed out.
“I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m certain you and Nia are doing a great deal of work in the rest of the inn.”
“There is work, yes, but it is nice to feel useful and to help people.”
She reached his side, still looking tired and worn. “Innkeeper, then?”
He didn’t know what she meant by that, and his confusion must have shown.
“Is that your dream-fulfilling future?” she asked. “Being an innkeeper?”
He shook his head. “I cannot say I would want to run an inn.”
“But you do want to help people and be useful.” She didn’t pose it as a question. She also didn’t talk about that desire of his as if it were a failing or weakness. “That leaves me with only one further characteristic to discover.”
He dried his hands on a kitchen rag. “And what is that one further characteristic?”
“Whether or not you are enamored of experimental bread.”
He hadn’t been expecting that. “Enamored ofwhat?”
Her captivating laugh pulled his gaze immediately to her, his heart pounding in anticipation. He’d learned very quickly during this journey that when Eve O’Doyle was laughing, he didn’t want to be looking anywhere other than at her, seeing her silver eyes sparkle, her bewitching dimple make an appearance, her lips turn up in a dazzling smile.
“Enamored ofexperimental bread,” she said as if he ought to have known what that meant but with too much amusement in her expression to make her comment anything but teasing. “I found herbs in the kitchen garden that were still alive and usable. It seemed a sign that I ought to use them. I added what I gathered into the bread I baked, and I’m hoping it’s worked.”
There was something wonderfully refreshing in hearing Eve’s lilting Irish voice lending the musical quality of Irish speech to her words. And it made her ever more captivating.
“You’ll try a bit, won’t you?” She looked hopeful but also a little nervous.
“Of course.”
Eve snatched hold of his hand and pulled him to the worktable. It was a simple touch, one she didn’t appear to engage in for any reason other than excitement over her baking, yet his heart lurched at the feel of her hand, small and warm, in his.
But it was there for only a moment. As soon as they reached the bread, she slipped free. He knew she needed her hands to cut into a loaf, but how tempted he was to ask her to let him weave his fingers through hers and keep hold of her in that small way. He didn’t dare. Instead, he inched a little closer, near enough to hear her breathe and feel her warmth.
She cut a thick slice of bread, then handed it to him, watching him closely.
It smelled divine. Duke took a bite. “Delicious,” he said. “Absolutely delicious.”
She clasped her hands together in front of her heart. “I’d hoped it would be. I love trying new things and creating my own recipes. I do wish it were something ladies didn’t have to be ashamed of.”
