Page 37 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
She didn’t like being ordered about, didn’t like it at all. It didn’t sit well, and a small seed of rebellion deep inside her wanted to rise up and protest. But she tamped it down and followed docilely behind. Maybe not quite so docile. Her hands were fisted, and she was half tempted to plant one in the center of his back, right in the dragon’s heart.
The silence stretching between them was awkward, but everything she thought to say was a question. How was your morning? What all did you do while you were away? Did you see anything interesting, hear any juicy gossip? She was craving gossip.
But she bit her tongue and kept from speaking. When they reached the kitchen, she thought he might praise her for her restraint, but he merely set the packages down and waved a hand over them.
“Open them.”
“They’re for me?” She growled at the words that had escaped without thought. “I know. I’m not supposed to ask questions.”
She caught the barest twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll overlook that one.”
She had the oddest desire to see him overjoyed, happy, laughing. At ease. Not in the way he was comfortable with his surroundings, but deeper, at ease with himself, at ease with her. He must have liked her. He’d hired her. She couldn’t blame him for his impatience with the recent turn of events. She had to relearn everything. He’d not bargained for that. “You should release me.”
She didn’t think his eyes could have grown any wider if she’d punched him in his flat stomach. “Pardon?”
“You should dismiss me. Hire someone who remembers how to tend to her duties, how to open the door properly—”
“At this precise moment all I require is that you open packages properly.”
His impatience was tempered this time, and she was glad he wasn’t letting her go. How would she even begin to make it on her own when only a chasm of emptiness existed where knowledge should be?
She tugged on the bow of the string that held the brown paper around a large package that seemed to contain something soft and malleable. Parting the wrapping, she uncovered clothing. She grabbed the dress by the shoulders, lifted it up, shook it to unfold it, and held it out for inspection. A plain frock of dark blue with buttons up to the starched white collar. Long sleeves. She peered over it at him.
“Your uniform,” he stated succinctly. “You were mistaken with your assumption that you had packed your clothes into a valise. You arrived with few possessions. I should have made arrangements for you to purchase things.”
Nodding, she set it aside and unfolded a white frilly apron. Tears stung her eyes.
“You’ll no doubt be more pleased with this package,” he said, shoving another toward her.
“I’m not displeased. I’ve never had such a thoughtful gift.”
“You’ve had lots of gifts.”
Cocking her head to the side, she studied him. “HaveI?”
“I can’t know for sure, of course, but I’m certain you have. One does not grow up without receiving any gifts.”
“I can’t recall a single one. It’s truly like starting my life all over.”
“Some would consider the chance to start over a blessing.”
“But that’s the thing of it. I don’t know if I should or not.” She didn’t want to focus on the troubling notion that maybe she should be grateful so she turned to the next parcel. It contained a gray dress, again with buttons to the collar, but the skirt contained several short ruffles on the backside.
“Another uniform?”
“No, I just thought you might have a need for regular clothing.”
“Do I get a day off?”
“From time to time.”
How grand! “When is the next one?” she asked enthusiastically.
“The next what?”
“Day off, silly. I should like to go to a bookshop. And gardens. I like to walk through gardens. Speaking of gardens, you really should hire a gardener.”
He appeared completely flummoxed. “Did you call me silly?”
