Chapter 9 #2
When she was done, she would leave the kitchen pristine. She was excellent at taking care of the smallest and most minute of details. It had been one of the first lessons she’d learned as a little girl with her family cook.
She began her work, slipping into a rhythm, enjoying every moment of it, letting herself drift away, from thinking about him, from wishing that he was with her, from…
“Whatever are you doing?”
She tensed and nearly dropped an egg, and that would be the worst thing she could possibly do! She valued eggs so immensely.
“I am baking,” she replied, stating the obvious and wishing she could kick herself for it.
Calchas smiled, his gaze dancing in the shadowy light left by the single taper on the long worktable. “I can see that, but shouldn’t you be in bed? We have a very big day tomorrow. The walls are being painted, and you are to select tables.”
She turned to him slowly and sighed. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Are you worried? I do think your tea shop is going to be a tremendous success. I’ve already spoken with my mother, and she has a whole idea on how to set up a pamphlet to go out to praise—”
“No,” she rushed, embarrassed that he would think her lack of sleep might be because she feared for her shop when everything was going so well. “I am not at all worried about the tea shop or the efforts to which your family has gone to help me with it.”
The truth was she had a strong feeling that the tea shop was going to be successful because every single Briarwood had promised to visit it and bring their friends. And an endorsement from the Dowager Duchess of Westleigh and the current Duchess of Westleigh would almost guarantee her success.
Well, she would have to make a real muck of it for her to fail.
“Then what is it?” he asked gently.
“If you must know, I cannot get something out of my head.”
“What?” he asked, taking a step forward.
And she dared to lift her gaze to his and whispered, “The truth is I cannot stop thinking about you.”
His eyes flared, heat sparking there. “Is that so?”
She nodded.
“How interesting.” His gaze traveled to her lips.
“Why?” she asked, her heart racing as desire lit in her blood.
“Because I cannot stop thinking about you.”
It could have felt like the worst of betrayals, longing for Calchas’s kiss. It did not. Instead, it somehow felt like a celebration of being alive. Of having made it out of the darkness. Of having overcome every tragedy that had tried to pull her down.
So, when he slowly, gently, and almost worshipfully placed his hands around her waist and turned her towards him, it wasn’t fear or guilt or shame that poured through her. It was the deepest of desires to choose being totally alive.
Even so, this felt unfamiliar. Tentatively, she placed her hands on his hard chest, savoring the heat of him beneath his crisp linen shirt.
The touch sent the wildest sensations through her and when his hands skimmed her hips and lower back, she instinctively arched into him, drawing ever closer.
Calchas’s gaze was hot and full of desire, but that wasn’t the only thing in his fiery gaze. He seemed to wish to twine with her, to unite their forms, and eschew the world until there was nothing but them and their embrace.
She couldn’t ignore the growing ache in her lower belly or the deep need she had to give in to her desire.
He studied her, hesitating, but then whatever need was in him became more powerful than that hesitation, and he swooped his head down, covering the distance between them.
He pulled her up onto her toes and took her mouth with his.
His sensual lips swept over hers, caressing with a bold assuredness as if she already belonged to him.
She loved it. Oh, how she loved his confident kiss!
Melting into him, she let her eyelids flutter shut and surrendered to feeling. Her palms pressed against his sculpted chest, then slipped to his neck, holding on for dear life.
His hands played at her back, tracing her shoulders, sliding over her ribs, massaging her lower back, tilting her into him.
The kiss grew more abandoned and her mouth parted, allowing him to delve his tongue into her mouth, exploring, somehow promising an even deeper intimacy to come.
Oh, how she wanted that! How she wanted him. To be overtaken and stolen from a life of care and suffering into a world of bliss with him at the center. This kiss was a whisper of it, and she wanted more. So much more.
Calchas’s body moved with power, with the knowledge he could give pleasure, but after a moment, his hands froze on her back. He pulled his mouth away from hers as if it was the hardest thing he had ever done.
He stared at her with dazed eyes, but there was a piercing determination there. A determination to take care of her.
“Forgive me,” he rumbled. “I should not have—”
“Calchas, you have done nothing wrong,” she whispered, aching for him but knowing he was right. She couldn’t make love to him in the Heron House kitchen. She couldn’t even let the kiss continue here!
But there was no need to forgive this gorgeous man, who had a heart that hurt for many and longed to give so much.
He nodded but slowly pulled back. “I want you. All of you. But there is no hurry. You owe me nothing, and I will wait for as long as it takes.”
“Thank you,” she somehow managed, unable to stop her lips from parting in a smile that was worthy of any young girl in the first bloom of love.
He looked like he wished to vow to take her into his bed. To steal her upstairs and make her his. But as quietly as he had entered, he slipped away and left her standing in the kitchen, flustered and smiling. She reached up and touched her lips.
Her life was taking so many turns that it could have been a maze. And like all mazes, it was confusing. Somehow, she would find her way. She had a feeling that the way led to Calchas and the slow stealing of her heart.