Chapter 4 #3
If everything went well this week, she’d have some free time in the evening the day after tomorrow.
Bonnie had already agreed to cover for her if Machara asked about her whereabouts, which would allow Ember to sneak over to Oliphant Engraving to use the lathe there.
The foreman has known her since she was a little lassie and still let her use the bigger machines when—
“Oh.”
She stopped short as she stepped into the blue room, her hand still on the door handle. She hadn’t expected the room’s occupant to still be there.
But when he turned and saw her, his face lit up, and she sucked in a happy breath. “Max,” she whispered.
“Ember!” And then he was beside her, taking the linens from her unresisting hands. “I gotta confess, I was hoping you’d be the one to bring these. That’s why I requested them.”
Then he took her hand in his and pulled her into the room, and Ember sighed with pleasure at the jolt of awareness which passed between them.
His accent was just as delightful as it had been the other times they’d spoken.
Were all American men’s voices so—so—so drawly?
Or just his and Mr. DeVille’s? She remembered the manager’s cultured tones as they’d danced, although underneath them had been a twang she’d liked listening to.
“I haven’t seen you since yesterday!”
She sighed dreamily again—he was still holding her hand—and nodded.
“Baroness Oliphant does not like me to work directly for the guests. Often I am cleaning upstairs in her own chambers.” And Tiffany and Bonnie’s, although Bonnie was neat as a pin most of the time.
“And sometimes I am working out in the gardens. One of our regular maids is late today, so I was sent to bring these for you.”
When she nodded to the linens he still held in his free hand, he smiled again. “Well then, you can help me so the trip isn’t wasted. That way, if she stops by, she can see you are working. I won’t be the cause of getting you in trouble!”
As he spoke, he tossed the clean linens atop a chair and began stripping the bed. Amused, she stepped up to the other side and began to help him. She’d never seen a man jump into domestic chores so easily, and it solidified her impression of him: he was a simple man with simple wants.
Like her.
Well, not the man part.
But she was a simple woman with simple wants, and one of those wants was for a simple man very much like Max.
Och, ye are thinking of a future with him now?
Well, why not? Were there rules against her finding a good man and making a future with him? That didn’t interfere with her plans to sell her designs to Mr. DeVille and support herself with her art, did it?
They worked together well, she had to admit. And she couldn’t help but admire his efficiency when it came to making a bed, as if he’d done it many times before.
Definitely not’ the lordly type then.
Distracted, she fumbled with one of the pillows as she rounded the end of the bed, and the thing flew from her hands to land beside Max’s feet. Mortified, she lunged for it, but he got there first, scooping it up and brushing it off.
Slowly, she straightened, now unnervingly close to him. If either of them were to take half a step, they’d be within a hairsbreadth of the other. As it was, she was close enough to see his pupils grow larger and his nostrils flare when his gaze dropped to her lips.
Oh. Oh my.
Who knew a man’s gaze on her lips—and the sight of a man’s aroused interest—could make her thighs clench this way?
Ember tried to relax her muscles, but the yearning had her breaths coming closer together, and she realized she was leaning toward him.
Closer…closer.
His lips parted, and she could see the tip of his tongue pressed against his upper teeth. Who knew a tongue could be quite so exciting? At least, judging from the way her heart was pounding, some part of her considered it exciting.
The flood of warmth to the junction of her thighs gave her a good idea exactly which part.
“Ember…?”
His whisper startled her, and she blinked as she jerked upright. They were standing beside a bed—his bed—in a bedroom with an open door. Even ignoring propriety—which, apparently, they were both quite comfortable doing—this was certainly no place for a kiss.
If kissing had been on his mind that is.
It had definitely been on hers.
Take the pillow, you idiot.
Ember did as commanded, snatching the pillow from his hands and stepping back. Was that a flash of disappointment in his eyes before he turned away? And was she mistaken, or had he just discretely adjusted his trousers, before clearing his throat and bending to tuck the sheets under the mattress?
Right. Work.
But she was smiling as she finished fitting the linen pillowcase in place. She’d forgotten her work there for a moment, but it was obvious he’d been just as affected by their almost-kiss as she had been.
In no time, with both of them working together, they were finished, and she fluffed his pillow an extra time or two before placing it carefully on the bed. She looked up to see him watching her, a heat in his eyes she hadn’t expected.
“What?” she blurted.
“Nothing.” His shrug didn’t look entirely convincing. “I just liked the way you did that. You’re good at taking care of people.”
Her chin rose, not sure if that’s what she wanted him to think of her. “Maybe it was just because it was your pillow. Maybe I was thinking of you lying here tonight, your head on that pillow, thinking of me.”
Had there been heat in his eyes before? In a blink, his expression turned downright molten. “I can guarantee you I’ll be thinking of you tonight, Ember,” he growled. “Lying in bed right here, thinking of you.”
Oh.
Oh.
Had he touched himself and wondered what her hands would feel like on his body, the way she had?
Ember swallowed hard, suddenly not at all interested in the pillows, except in the very general way that they were on the bed, and he would be on the bed, and she was now thinking of him lying there…
Thinking of me.
Well that was going to be a distraction tonight, wasn’t it?
He’d winked at her, then turned away and began gathering up the dirty sheets from where he’d tossed them. Definitely a man who’d done that before, and the ease with which he’d dismissed the topic told her he’d been teasing her.
As Ember fought to gain control of her body’s reaction to him, she turned to the small table which stood in the middle of the room, a pair of chairs on either side. Papers covered it, and she stepped over to arrange them into neater piles, more to give her hands something to do than anything else.
But as she moved the papers around, a design caught her eye, and she held it up to study it.
“You like it?” Max’s deep drawl rumbled behind her. “Those are the designs for my house. It’ll be finished any day now.”
“It is…lovely.”
“It’s simple,” he corrected.
He was right. The house was only two bedrooms, with a parlor in the front and a dining room on the opposite side of the house. The kitchen wasn’t fancy, but perfectly serviceable, and there was even a bathing chamber with pipes for running water directly to the tub.
Her first thought was, It would be so simple to keep a place like this clean! She immediately knew, if given the choice, she’d want to live in a home just like this. Not because it looked easier to keep clean than the inn, but because it appeared to be cozy and comfortable.
“It is perfect,” she breathed, meaning it.
He cleared his throat and reached for the design, his fingers brushing against hers as he did so. Instead of putting the plans away, he stared down at them for a long moment.
“I’ve always wanted a little house like this for myself. Until I came to the Highlands, I’d lived my whole life in my father’s—in someone else’s house. I’m ready for a chance to make a name for myself.”
Ember nodded. “I know exactly what you mean.”
His expression cleared into another easy-going smile as he slid the design into a folder on the table. “You live with your overbearing father, do you?”
She chuckled. “Sort of. I am hoping to be able to make my own way in the world soon.”
When his fingers brushed against hers, she startled, but didn’t hesitate. She clasped her hand around his, shivering at the electrical sensation, and held his gaze.
“It’s exciting, isn’t it?” he whispered. “Finding where exactly you belong?”
Her fingers tightened around his. “Yes, it is, Max.” Right then, if someone had asked, she’d have said she belonged with him.
He swallowed. “I’m beginning to suspect figuring out a future might be more fun, more satisfying, with someone else.”
Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Unconsciously, Ember leaned a little closer to him. “You might be right.”
Just as he opened his mouth to reply, a call came from down the corridor. “Ember! Where are you, girl? Have you finished changing those sheets?”
With a sigh, Ember sank back on her heels once more, and he winced.
“Baroness Oliphant, huh? I’ve heard her calling for you at all hours—seems as though she treats you worse than the other servants.”
“Oh, yes,” Ember began, with an exasperated roll of her eyes, before stepping away from him. “I am her own personal drudge.”
“Ember!” came the screech from down the corridor, and Ember sighed once more, even as Max winced.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, meeting his eyes, although she wasn’t exactly sure why she was apologizing. “That really is just who I am, now.”
His chin jerked in acknowledgement, but he didn’t say anything as she hurried out the door, heading for the laundry closet, and feeling as if she’d somehow ruined something very special.