Nineteen
Three months later
DOG HAIRS STOOD out on the black dress Pearl was wearing. But she didn’t care. Saxon—Christopher’s new pup—was too precious to her to shoo him away. Even though the hound loved to stroke her legs with his body, leaving turfs of hairs behind. Mourning her father with the comfort of a well-paid job in Gladstone and with Saxon had helped her overcome her grief.
If only Christopher had shown a sign of interest in her.
She closed the last logbook she had to check and pushed it away. She couldn’t complain. The job was intense, but exciting. She had free time to ride her horse, and Florence was an excellent company. Saxon never left her side, and even Harvey had proven to be a great friend. Since Christopher had refurbished the library and restored his book collection to his former glory, reading was what she did in the evening.
But Christopher hadn’t spent much time with her. Polite smiles, friendly conversations, and respectful bows were all he’d offered her in the past months. Again, she shouldn’t complain. An employer who treated her with respect and didn’t try to take advantage of her situation was pure gold.
Still, she’d lie if she said she didn’t want him to take advantage of her.
“We never gain what we want, don’t we?” she said, scratching Saxon’s ear.
“And what would you want?” Christopher walked inside the office without his walking stick.
Since he used the yarrow oil regularly, his limping had diminished, and he’d become more silent.
His grey waistcoat stretched over his broad chest. The fabric threatened to rip over his bulging muscles. Another advantage of his improving leg was that he sparred every day with Dorian, and the muscles had hardened. Not that she’d been staring. A dark stubble covered his strong jaw, and her skin prickled, remembering how it’d felt against her body.
Her cheeks heated, and she shuffled the documents. “I was just blabbering.”
“No, seriously.” He sat next to her and caressed Saxon’s strong head. “Tell me what you need.”
“You’ve been so good to me in the past weeks. I don’t need anything.” Aside from a fumble under the skirts with him.
Lord, since when she’d become so desperate to have sex with him?
Again, she averted her gaze from those obsidian eyes that lured her in.
“You’ve been an excellent accountant. I couldn’t be more pleased,” he said in a professional tone that quenched her desire.
“Your previous clerk was messy.” She rearranged the pencils and the papers. “I’m not surprised he was so slow.”
His big, warm hand closed over hers. “You’re nervous. Tell me what bothers you.”
The simple contact started a storm within her. It was the first time he touched her in months.
“Is it because of your father?” he asked.
“No. I mean, I’m still sad and I miss him terribly, but I have to admit the work helps, and the pain isn’t unbearable as it was before.”
“But?” His brow arched.
Well, she might tell him. “I don’t want to sound like I’m complaining. We didn’t spend much time together.”
“We dine together every evening and spend hours in this office.”
“To work, not to—” Tarnation. Maybe she shouldn’t have said anything. She fiddled with a pencil.
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “You were mourning. I would’ve never intruded into your grief.”
“I miss you,” she whispered.
“I’m right here.” He took her hands, hauled her up, and sat her on his lap.
A giggle escaped her. A giggle! She hadn’t laughed a lot in the past weeks, even less giggled.
