Page 14 of The Sweetest Season
“It’s a matter of etiquette,” he countered.“It’s impolite of me to eat while you look on.You ought to know that, Lady Beatrice.”
“I should show you the door for that, sir.”
He chuckled as he reached out, took her hand, and drew her to him.“I like when you call mesirtoo.”
“I expect you do.You’re used to it back from when all the troops obeyed your every word.But if you think I’ll follow orders from you, think again.”
Noel gave her a look that sent heat whirling through her belly.“You might enjoy it.”
“That would depend on the orders,” she said, her voice a little breathy.
“Let’s start with something simple.Take a bite.”
Yes, sir, she thought, surveying his lean but sensual form.She could nibble quite a bit of him before she felt full…oh.He was lifting the fork to her mouth, the tines heavy with cake.
Beatrice accepted the offering, though it was not what she’d been dreaming of.And yes, the cake was a delight.Deep notes from the coffee, with the lively herbal tones of the fruit and flower additions…
She swallowed, and said, “I did do a rather fine job, didn’t I?”
“Magnificent.”He dragged his finger through the soft cake and the softer frosting and held it up to her lips.“Lick it off.”
It was an order, and she wanted to obey it.
She kept her gaze locked on his as she opened her mouth and bit down gently on his finger.His eyes widened and his nostrils flared as she began to suck the sweetness off him, swirling her tongue slowly to catch everything.
Noel seemed shaken when he finally reclaimed his hand.He didn’t appear to know where to look, and when he spoke, his voice was rough.“May I ask you something?It’s personal, and I know how you hate those questions.”
“Well, you may ask.I may not answer.”
“Fair,” he said.“How many marriage proposals have you turned down?”
“Ah, that is personal.”She paused, thinking.“Three.”
“Only three?”
She laughed at his tone.“Did you imagine I was surrounded by suitors?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you are quite wrong.I had a few, men who were after my potential wealth, or my social connections.”
“You’re doing your suitors a disservice.”
Beatrice sneered.“Oh, I have plenty of evidence that I’m not.One gentleman who pursued me with the most zeal always asked after my father’s health.He grew more romantic whenever he thought my father sick.I was due to inherit land upon his death, you see.”
Noel frowned.“Or he could have been concerned for your family’s health.He must have appreciated you for yourself.”
“He did enjoy my baking,” she admitted.“That was before I trained in Paris, so I can’t say I was very skilled, only enthusiastic enough to play in the kitchens.My parents never liked it, but I was a defiant girl.And Cook was indulgent.”She stopped speaking, her cheeks coloring as she recalled what happened next.
“Go on,” Noel urged.
“The gentleman proposed to me.I refused him, mostly because my mother always said a lady should not appear too eager.”
“Is that the fashion?He must have proposed again,” Noel guessed.
“Oh, he did.But not to me.He found an equally wealthy lady who was praised as having the figure of a sylph.He did request that I make the cake for their wedding breakfast.He said he’d hire me as a cook if only my class were lower and his bride would let him.Perhaps he was thinking ahead, for when he might want a midnight snack.”
Beatrice knew how bitter she sounded, but speaking about it brought all the old pain and hurt back.“It was then I decided that I’d be better off in a kitchen than a drawing room.I went to Paris the next month.My parents told me I wouldn’t be welcome back if I went, and that I shouldn’t use any title or even the family name.I obliged them.”
