AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He gaped at her from his perch on the ladder as amusement filled his chest. “Perhaps.” The companion was rather striking when she smiled or became animated during conversation. It was almost as if she’d been eclipsed by his mother’s presence. And there she was with an arm raised as if to catch him should he take a tumble from the ladder. His weight alone would bring them both to the floor. The amusement turned to sharp awareness the longer he looked at her, and it brought confusion in its wake.
Under no circumstances did he need to involve himself with a woman—for any purpose. Hadn’t he learned that lesson all too well years ago?
Miss Cowan nodded. The gaiety faded from her eyes, as did the tiny golden flecks that decorated the deep brown irises. “I suppose now that you’ve returned, you’ll want to spend as much time with her as you can.” She lowered her arm when it became apparent he was anchored securely enough. “I can stay out of your way if you wish.” Then she tilted her chin up at the determined angle he knew too well already. “But I will not leave her unless she tells me to go.”
How much did he already admire her spirit and her adherence to duty? “That won’t be necessary, Miss Cowan.” Needing to close the distance between them or at least converse with her on level ground, Bartholomew climbed down the ladder. She moved a slight distance away but held her ground. A mere foot of space separated them, and if he’d wanted, he could touch her shoulder, her cheek, wrap a hand about her nape and drag her to him… Softly, and as the heat of embarrassment went up the back of his neck, he shook his head. “Please stay. This is your home as much as it is mine.”
“I appreciate that, Captain Grayson.” She smiled up into his face, and there was no guile in the expression, and a trace of relief in her eyes. “Only adverse circumstances could cause me to leave your mother’s side.” If her words were a trifle breathless, they both ignored the fact.
“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Traces of a violet scent wafted to his nose to renew the initial awareness. He glanced to the side where a box of greenery waited, and on the top rested a few sprigs of mistletoe. Where was the harm in a chaste kiss? It had been an age since he’d had a woman in his arms, and there was something about Miss Cowan that drew his notice past all the alarms and blockades he’d set about his heart. He leaned toward her and reached out a hand toward one of the sprigs. “You know, my mother’s idea wasn’t—”
“Felicity!” The call from his mother from the corridor outside was enough to break the spell weaving between them. His heartbeat slammed into a rapid rhythm. They sprang away from each other as if they were oil and water dumped into a hot pan. “Miss Cowan! I require your assistance at once.” When she came into the room, her hawkish gaze landed on him and the hand that had buried itself into the box of greenery. “Stop dallying, Bartholomew. I assumed you would have finished the room by now.” Then she looked at Miss Cowan, who had somehow managed to sprint halfway across the carpet, looking for all the world as if she’d meant to perch upon a chair to watch him. “Come, girl. I need your opinion on a little suit I want for Luke. He’s balking, but I won’t have such cheek. And then I want you to take down a few letters for me.”
“Of course, Mrs. Grayson.” With a final glance at him, she followed his mother from the room.
Well, hellfire and damnation. Struck dumb for one of the only times in his life, Bartholomew stared at the empty doorway for long minutes before he yanked a fir bough from the box. He’d do well to mind himself better while in the companion’s company. No sense in making the same error he had years ago merely out of desperation to feel a woman’s lips against his. And I’m not in the habit of making a cake out of myself any longer.
He hoped.
