“Oh dear, I’m covering you with flour,” she mumbled, handing him a cloth as her heart began to flutter in her chest. “Now, the yeast is ready. I’m going to show you how to make bread, and in exchange, you’re going to read to Lilian tomorrow before bed.”
Surely, he could not make advances on her here in the kitchen? Any of the servants could walk in on them if they came down for a hot drink in the middle of the night. Hopefully, her words were sufficiently discouraging to put any such idea out of his mind.
When Nathaniel continued to gaze upon her with a knowing little smile, Cecily took the flour and began to measure it into the bowl, adding the water and a pinch of salt as she went.
“Then, you mix it all together like this, until the dough comes together into one mass.”
“With your hands?” he asked.
Cecily nodded, demonstrating.
“Once you have a smooth ball of dough, it’s time for the kneading,” she said, taking the dough from the bowl andbeginning to work it on the floured wooden counter surface. “Like this. Here, why don’t you try?”
Her husband nodded and took the dough in one hand, but instead of standing beside her as she expected, he wrapped his other arm around her waist, holding her in his arms. The warm pressure of him at her back sent a jolt of heady longing through her body, and she let out a short squeak.
“Like this?” Nathaniel murmured, his breath hot against her ear as he kneaded the dough, his arms brushing against the sides of her breasts. “Am I doing it right?”
“Oh, yes, but…” Cecily sighed deeply as he began to nuzzle her neck. “We’re meant to be making bread.”
“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered teasingly, and she shook her head. “I did not think so, sweet Cecily.”
Cecily did not want him to stop. She wanted this moment to go on and on. The closeness of Nathaniel’s strong body, the scent of his skin, and their current activity all made her feel secure, happy, and incredibly aroused. Whatever she had been worrying about earlier had completely evaporated by the time she turned her head and met his kisses with her own.
Seconds later, they froze as a small but distinct voice sounded somewhere in the dark stillness of the house.
“Papa? Cecily? Anyone?”
“Lilian!” Nathaniel exclaimed, releasing his hold on Cecily and heading for the kitchen door. “She must be downstairs. What is she doing out of bed?”
Wiping her hands on her apron and catching her breath, Cecily hurried after him.
Lilian stood in the hallway in her nightdress, a candle in her hand and her eyes bleary with sleep.
“What are you doing down here, Lilian?” Cecily asked. “You should be fast asleep in bed where I left you. Didn’t Maisie tell you to go back to bed?”
The nursemaids were presently taking turns to sleep in the little dressing room beside Lilian’s bedroom, exactly in case of incidents like this.
“I woke up,” the little girl said. “Maisie was snoring, so I left her. Anyway, I didn’t want Maisie. I wanted you and couldn’t remember where your rooms were in the dark, so I came downstairs, but no one was here.”
“That’s because it’s nighttime, silly,” Cecily told her, kneeling beside her and dropping a kiss on her dark, silky hair. “Now, you must go back upstairs to bed with your father while I finish off in the kitchen.”
“But I want you to come too.” Lilian pouted, taking Nathaniel’s hand but refusing to move. “I want you both to put me to bed.”
“I have to bake the last of the bread and wrap the finished loaves,” Cecily answered, shaking her head and looking at Nathaniel. “I can’t leave it out like that.”
“I don’t want to go without Cecily!” Lilian protested, her voice rising rebelliously as Nathaniel scooped her wriggling little body into his arms. “No!”
Cecily sighed, preparing for a scene and hoping the entire household would not be roused.
“In that case, you must be very quiet, sit on my knee and not disturb your stepmother while she finishes her work,” Nathaniel announced, seeming immune to Lilian’s little fists.
“What?” the girl questioned, not quite understanding but going still as Nathaniel moved in the direction of the kitchens.
“Cecily is making bread for some poor children who have no fathers or mothers. You can sit with me down here for a little while until the bread is finished, but you must be good,” he explained further, glancing at Cecily.
It was not a bad plan, and she nodded her approval, following them down the corridor back to the overheated kitchen.
There, as Lilian sat wide-eyed on her father’s knee, Cecily put the last loaf into the oven, wrapped the others in cloths, and wiped the counter.
