Page 32 of The Best-Kept Secrets
Her hands dropped to his chest. “You give so much of yourself to helping others, to securingtheirhappiness. You deserve happiness as well.”
“That is why my uncle Niles said he went into politics: to help people.” He set a hand over one of hers.
She moved a little closer. “You ought to consider following in his footsteps.”
“There are a great many obstacles.” With his free hand, he brushed a strand of her hair away from her eyes.
“There usually are.”
He swallowed. “And complications.”
Her gaze affixed to his, she nodded silently.
Duke bent a little closer, the two of them so close that there was no need to speak louder than a whisper. “Things don’t always work out the way we hope.”
“There’s no hope if a person doesn’t at least try.”
Her silver eyes, so stunning when she laughed, were warm and deep and watching him in a way that pulled him ever closer. Achingly close.
“Aoife,” he whispered.
Her eyelids fluttered closed. It was an invitation he didn’t ignore. He wrapped his arms around her and stopped pretending her lips didn’t tempt him more every time he was with her. He kissed her, slowly and softly. The charge that had swirled in the air the past days rippled around them. And his heart echoed with the pulse of a brewing storm.
The sudden sound of a tree branch blown against a window startled them both. The tension between them didn’t abate. She watched him. He watched her. But he wasn’t certain either of them breathed.
Her cheeks were a little flushed, but he saw no regret or disapproval in her expression. In fact, he was almost certain a smile tugged at her lips as she returned to her sweeping. He didn’t hold back an answering smile of his own.
Neither said much after that but set to cleaning the kitchen. They eventually settled once more into the lighthearted conversation they most often indulged in. There was no true discomfort between them, but he suspected she wasn’t any more ready than he was to dissect what had happened and what it meant.
With her domain set to rights, Eve offered a thank-you before stepping into the room she’d been using and closing the door.
And Duke stood alone in this room where he’d well and truly fallen for her, realizing how complicated things had just become. His was a future that would be spent either as a perpetual guest in someone’s home or as a man unable to escape the difficulties of his parents’ house. He was inextricably tied to a family at war with itself. He knew all too well the battle scars that caused.
He knew he needed to proceed with more than mere caution. He needed to maintain enough emotional space not to overly entwine his heart with hers. But that heart pleaded with him not to push her away.
Chapter Thirteen
All that night and thenext day as Eve had slept in the carriage, her dreams had been filled with Duke, a warm, quiet kitchen, and a gentle embrace. And that kiss.
She’d worried that things would be awkward between her and Duke. Perhaps he now regretted the impulse, or maybe she’d been rubbish at kissing, and Duke was embarrassed for her. But he’d been busy with the preparations for departure and being the recipient of his grandmother’s complaints when they’d first departed, which had been ongoing when Eve had drifted off. Then Duke had been asleep when she’d been awake during the morning bit of their journey. And while she’d slept quite a lot after their lunchtime stop, he’d spent that bit of the journey reading a newspaper.
They weren’t interacting enough for her to even know if things were now uncomfortable. And she was a little too tired to try to sort it out.
When their supper arrived at the inn where they were breaking their journey that night, she hadn’t the energy to do more than push the food around her plate and focus on keeping her eyes open. She had worked hard in the kitchen the last two days, and that labor had exhausted her.
“I cannot blame Miss O’Doyle for merely picking at her meal,” Mrs. Seymour said. “The fare here is not as well prepared as what we had at that dilapidated inn we were holed up in.”
“How fortunate we were to have found such a skilled cook.” Duke spoke very solemnly, but when he looked at Eve, there was a laugh lurking in his eyes.
Her answering smile was more than just amusement. She was relieved. Their unforgettable kiss, the surprising impulse of a moment, hadn’t become a barrier. He could still joke with her, still turned to her with a light and happy demeanor.
“One thing Icanblame Miss O’Doyle for, though,” Mrs. Seymour said, “is how little she helped at that inn. Miss Niamh worked tirelessly to set bedchambers to rights, often looking entirely done in by the effort. Dubhán carried trays of food and saw to the public room. They could have rested if they’d had more help.”
Eve quickly reminded herself that Mrs. Seymour hadn’t been told about the arrangement in the kitchen. Knowing how to expertly run a kitchen and prepare meals required years of having done so. A lady could sort out how to make a bed or stoke a fire without having repeatedly done the work of a chambermaid. Eve’s work would have revealed their situation to Mrs. Seymour. Nia’s didn’t. Eve’s work had to be kept secret. Nia’s didn’t. The lady didn’t have to be so judgmental, but she was coming at the topic from a place of ignorance.
“I assure you, Mrs. Seymour,” Eve said, “I worked quite hard as well. I didn’t see you because my duties were all on the ground floor.”
“What could possibly have kept you down there?” Mrs. Seymour scoffed. “Dubhán, I am certain, had everything well in hand.”
