Chapter Twelve #2
“I was called upon to render a tincture this evening and thought, as I was fully awake, I might as well finish furnishing my workspace,” she told him between pants shoving at the container with her knee against the flat surface toward the next series of stairs.
“If you wouldn’t mind?” Annoyance dripped from her tone.
She attempted to, rather comically, brush past him but failed, the trunk barely budging.
“I thought you were supposed to be careful with your arm,” he reminded her, ignoring the hostility.
“I am,” she returned. “Hence I’m using my hip.”
“But it’s nearly midnight.” He glanced at the clock in the hall for verification. “You do realize that it required two grown men to carry that into your room?”
“Leverage and gravity.” She moved around to the other side of the thing and tugged with her good hand. “Not that you know anything about either.”
“Nor do you, obviously,” he remarked. But his words had no effect. Instead, she continued her inane attempts for several more minutes.
Just his luck, she was not giving up until she was good and hurt. Which could not happen. He needed her out in five weeks or less, damn it.
Time to put a stop to this. Setting his book down on the credenza against the wall, he returned to the receptacle.
“Move,” he instructed her, his patience now gone.
Her eyes grew wide. “Beg pardon?”
“It’s late, and I’m not in the mood to argue,” he told her, cutting behind her so he could stand on the greater side of the trunk. He gazed down at the thing.
Yes, it was bulky, but how heavy could it really be? Taking a deep breath, he squatted. Reaching around, thanking the universe for his exceptionally long limbs, he gripped both handles and lifted as he rose once more.
Merde. The word, plus a thousand other curses, flooded his brain.
What in the world did the woman have in this thing?
No matter. He had it, and he was going to carry it, damn it. To wherever she wanted. And then go to bed.
Or have Lopez fill his tub with ice and lie there for a few hours.
One or the other.
But he would do this. He would not fail. Not now. Not in front of her.
“As you’ve never appreciated my manners,” he told her, swallowing a grunt as he turned toward the staircase. “I concluded we might as well dispense with the same to save us time.” He heaved another deep breath. “Now show me where this goes.”
The woman paused for an irritatingly long time until her shoulders finally relaxed.
“Fine,” she said. “Follow me.” She ambled far too slowly down the staircase to the first floor, traversing the corridor through the double-sized butler’s pantry.
From there, they maneuvered through the door, down the last staircase to the kitchens.
“Place it right over there, please.” She gestured to a space next to a large worktable, just behind the dairy section, already filled with vials and jars.
“All right,” he said, swallowing a pant. God, his shoulders ached. However, he refused to give her the satisfaction of rubbing them. At least while she could see. No, he only stared at her for a moment, allowing the silence.
“Thank you,” the woman finally said.
“You’re welcome.” He pointed to the exit. “Now we can all go to bed.” And he could have a bath. Two baths. Cold and then hot. After which perhaps he could persuade Lopez to crack his back.
Yes, it was late, but he’d pay the man anything just to get some relief. And to make sure he wasn’t hobbling in the morning.
“You might.” Miss Adler approached the table and grabbed some sort of cooking or mixing device.
“I think I’ll work some more.” She carried the tool to the sink, poured water on it, and began scrubbing it with a rag.
“My hours aren’t regular. I work when needed.
Like I did tonight.” She snatched a towel and dried the thing off.
Standing on her toes, she pulled open a high cabinet and lifted the device above her head.
Roger cursed under his breath and stepped toward her. “Allow me,” he said, lifting it from her and placing it in the empty space.
“The Teres family seems quite prolific in their procreation,” she told him only when he was finished, nearly causing him to bump his head on the cabinet door. “And speedy.”
“Beg pardon?” he asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.
“Miss Leone was telling me that she and her brothers were each born within a year of the last.” Miss Adler returned to her table and was now sweeping it off with her hand.
“The eldest was conceived within weeks of her parents’ marriage,” she continued as she gathered what appeared to be spices, returning them to the main part of the kitchen.
“I couldn’t help but infer that she expects a similar course of events when she marries.
Which I understand is to be quite soon.” She gave him a rather smug, knowing look.
Merde, blast, bollocks, fuck.
This was not supposed to happen. She and his new life were not supposed to mix.
Teres would be apoplectic.
Or worse, would nix the deal if he found out. No matter what his daughter said.
“There’s no betrothal agreement in place,” he told her, attempting to keep his voice calm.
“But there’s an understanding, is there not?” Miss Adler asked, cocking her head.
“There is,” he admitted, his pulse beginning to tick up. “On the condition that we each find matters amenable.”
The woman’s lip twitched. “She seems already quite committed.”
“Does she?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“You couldn’t tell?” she asked.