Page 23 of A Rake's Redemption
She closed her eyes and imagined raking her nails across the little hussy’s face instead. She had to find out who the damn bitch was. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes as the carriage slowed in front of her house. She remembered her personal maid saying she had a sister who’d applied for a position at Dansworth House. At the time, Miranda hadn’t thought much about it. Perhaps the sister—Miranda thought her name was Fern—had been hired. If she was, Miranda would be able to get all the information she needed.
She smiled. No mistress was going to get in her way.
Chapter Eight
As Inis led Goldie into her stall on Friday, she’d decided perhaps she’d made too much of Alex’s taking her to the modiste shop. She shouldn’t have told him she knew what she’d agreed to do and not do. Since Monday, he had been nothing but formally polite when they met, which hadn’t been often since he’d spent most of this week at his office near Fleet Street.
Her cheeks warmed in embarrassment. He had made no innuendos about personal favors. She was the one who couldn’t stop recalling that he’d told her she’d look beautiful in the blue gown. No one had ever called her beautiful, but that was the word he’d used. And she couldn’t help remembering how, instead of feeling small and skinny, she’d felt feminine anddelicatewhen his arms had encircled her and she’d bumped against his granite-like chest.
It didn’t help that Caroline had dropped by yesterday afternoon with the news that gossip was already spreading. She’d seemed agitated to find Alex gone and hadn’t stayed long, so Inis didn’t have a chance to question her about what was being said. And, the saints preserve her, for an instant she’d allowed herself to relish the idea that those ladies thought Alex found her desirable.
She sighed as she finished brushing Goldie’s coat and gave the filly a lingering pat. “Your owner has the charm of Lucifer himself,” she said softly to the animal. “I would nae be surprised if the mon could sprout horns.”
“I can assure you I do not sprout horns.”
Inis froze, her hand still on the filly’s mane, and stared straight ahead. Sweet Mary.
“I will take it as a compliment that you find me charming,” Alex said from behind her.
He’d come closer. Her face was so hot she was afraid she might actually set the straw on fire in the stall.
“Even though I am not sure the devil is all that charming,” Alex continued.
He wasn’t going to go away. She was trapped. She couldn’t just stand there in the stall and stare at the wall over Goldie’s withers. She took a deep breath, turned around, and nearly bumped into that rock-like chest she’d been thinking about earlier. She swallowed hard. “I did nae mean to call ye a devil.”
Alex smiled. “I have been called worse.” He leaned down, his longish hair falling forward to tickle her nose, and picked up her free hand.
“What…what are ye doing?”
“Letting you check for yourself to see if I have horns,” he said and placed her hand on his head.
Her fingers curled instinctively through the strands. Dear Lord in heaven. His hair was soft as silk, and she could smell the clean scent of the soap he’d used.
“Find any horns?” he asked, his voice warm and sultry and much too close to her ear. “Continue your exploration for as long as you need.”
By the saints. What was she doing? She stared at her hand as though it were something not a part of her. And maybe it wasn’t since her fingers were massaging his scalp and working their way to his nape. She jerked her hand away, positive this time her smoldering face would serve as tinder to the straw.
“I am sorry—”
“Don’t be,” Alex said and straightened. For a moment, his eyes darkened to the shades of a shadowed forest. Then he shook his head and stepped back. “I got carried away. I came out here to let you know Madame Dubois sent over your dresses.”
“Thank ye,” Inis said, not quite trusting her voice. “I intend to pay ye back for the cost from my wages.”
Alex smiled. “In that case, Miss O’Brien, you will be with me for a long time.” He turned and walked out before she could reply, leaving her to stare after him.
What did he mean by that?
She found out a short time later when she made her way up to her small chamber. Elsie was already inside, surrounded by enough boxes to make Inis think it was Christmas. “What is all this?”
The maid beamed at her. “Your wardrobe, I imagine.”
“My wardrobe?” Inis looked around at the assorted sizes of the boxes. “I only ordered one dress.”
Elsie giggled. “I think there is more than one dress here.”
“But…”
“Do you want a bath first?” Elsie asked. “Or I could open everything for you.”
