Page 5 of The Confessions of a Lady
Liam shared their blood, but he refused to let his base desires rule him the way they did his father and brothers. The beast inside him yielded to Liam’s will, not the other way around.
He would not wake the servants at ungodly hours to bring him his dinner.
He would not succumb to the numerous addictions afflicting his brothers.
He certainly would not harass the young maids in his employ to meet his sexual desires.
His soul was an empty husk, but he refused to fall to such depths as being monstrous with the innocent.
Liam lowered the lantern. ‘I hope I didn’t alarm you. I assumed all the servants were asleep.’ He let the unasked question hang in the air between them.
The girl’s cheeks coloured slightly in a blush.
Cinnamon, cream, and strawberry sauce.
His body tightened.
Jesus. He had gone too long without a woman, or a meal, or a decent night’s sleep. He couldn’t be sure what was causing such a lack in his self-control, but he would remedy the deficit immediately with food and rest. Sating his other desires was out of the question. Being naked and vulnerable with a woman could lead to disastrous consequences. Like feelings. And tupping one of his employees was unthinkable. His life was a snarled mess already; he hardly needed to add any more unwanted complications.
‘I couldn’t sleep, my lord. I thought perhaps some warm milk might help.’ She crossed her arms in front of her but instead of being diminutive, the gesture reminded Liam of a warrior brandishing her shield. Her eyes, their colour hidden to him in the dim light, darted from the noticeably empty stove to the equally bereft table before landing on the door behind Liam. There was an obvious lack of milk, cup, or saucepan. She was lying and looking for an escape.
Because his instinct was to move closer, to trap her within his reach, Liam stepped back. She could easily scamper past him if she wished.
‘Either you have just finished, or not yet started preparing your sleep tonic.’ His lips twitched as her blush darkened to a shade closer to cherries. He had called her bluff.
The young woman shifted on her feet. ‘I, um, yes. I already drank the, err – that is to say – I was just cleaning up and heading to bed.’
Perhaps a lad was waiting for her on the kitchen stoop. Liam glanced out of the narrow window, but there was nothing but darkness beyond the kitchen walls.
He returned his gaze to the maid. ‘There’s no need to rush off. I don’t mind a little company.’ Where the blazes had that invitation come from? Certainly not his brain, which was generally ruled by logic. He ground his teeth as if he could pull the words back and crush them to dust with his molars.
The girl looked flummoxed.
Of course she is. She hardly expected to stumble across the master of the house in the kitchen of all places.
A realm designated for servants. And then he invited her to stay with him like an old chum while he made a midnight snack. Scandalous in the extreme.
The omnipresent anger simmering beneath the surface of his skin bubbled hotter knowing his words caused her discomfort.
So let her leave then.
He wasn’t forcing her attendance. And besides, this was his house. He owned all the rooms, including the kitchen, scullery, and pantry. If he wished to eat in the kitchen, he damn well would, despite what some maid thought of him. A maid whose unexpectedly attractive mouth snagged his attention like a thorn might catch at his clothes.
That’s two times I’ve noticed her mouth.
Not a good sign. Suddenly very aware of how alone they were, Liam couldn’t ignore the inherent danger of the situation. For her. A maid could easily lose her position if there was even a hint of impropriety. He opened his mouth to dismiss her, but she spoke first.
‘I’m not well suited to conversations with men as high and lofty as yourself, my lord.’
Her tart tone inspired a quick response. ‘You prefer conversing with the low and dejected? Then let me assure you, I am the perfect candidate.’
A flash of surprise lit her eyes. ‘I would hardly call a marquess low or dejected. Even one as travel-weary as yourself.’
‘Really? What would you call me then?’
She opened her delicious mouth, then closed it again. He’d stumped her. A stupid glimmer of warmth sparked in his belly.
‘I shouldn’t dare call you anything.’
