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“I’m already here.” As soon as her fingers closed around the evergreen branches of the wreath, a shuddering sigh left her throat. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, but as his fingers brushed hers and a jolt of energy streaked up her arm to her elbow, she was distracted by his proximity. She stretched, reached as far as she could, and the second she attached the wreath to the hook, she sneezed and lost her balance.
The sensation of being temporarily weightless assailed her and as she fell down, down, down with a terrified squeal, Hawk was there and off the ladder. He caught her in his arms as easily as if she’d been as light as Mathieu, and it was oh so thrilling!
“This is why a footman should do this.” His hold tightened. She clutched at his shoulders and couldn’t help but meet his gaze. Desire clouded those ice blue depths.
“So you can catch him?”
By tiny increments, he lowered his head toward hers. Their lips barely touched. “No, so I don’t have to worry about you.”
“Oh.” Surprise went through her. His concern was sweet. “We barely know each other.” The warmth of his breath skated over her lips, and every muscle in her body strained in the hopes he would kiss her. Yes, she wanted another even after she chastised him for the same two days ago at Brambleberry Cottage.
“Does that matter when personal safety and security is in jeopardy?”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t.” She slipped a hand to his nape in the hopes of encouraging him to follow through on what they both clearly wanted.
Just as he’d barely pressed his lips to hers, the sound of a masculine throat being cleared sounded at the door.
Belle jerked and sent a glance in that direction. “What is it, Danvers?” If there was a trace of annoyance in her voice, she couldn’t help it.
The older man took a few steps into the room while Hawk set Belle onto her feet. “Lord Ravenscroft has arrived, my lady.”
“Well, drat,” she said beneath her breath. Shock and disappointment twisted down her spine. “Where is he?”
“He went upstairs to the viscount’s suite. I am sure he will join you shortly for tea.”
“Of course.” Itwasthat time. “Very well. Thank you.”
Once the butler departed, Hawk touched her shoulder and brought her around to face him. “Is all well?”
“I think so. Philip is Laurence’s brother. He has never come to Ravenscroft House in all the years I’ve ever invited him, but he’s the heir so I assume he’s come to finally take up the full responsibilities of the title.”
“How do you feel about that?”
No one ever asked her how she felt about… anything. It was rather lovely to know someone cared. “It’s a bit maudlin, but it is the way of things.”
That intense gaze never left her face. “Will you relocate to London or move to Brambleberry Cottage?”
Her chin quivered, for the emotion that clogged her throat took her by surprise. “I haven’t considered such a thing, so I don’t yet know. I just know nothing will be the same… unless Philip goes back to London and leaves me be until he weds.”
A fierce frown—more like a scowl—took over Hawk’s face. “Are you and he—”
“Oh, good heavens, no!” She shook her head and put a decent amount of space between them. “There are no feelings like that at all. He is simply an… inconvenience at this point. I have run this estate, and now my efforts will be tossed away.”
“I’m sorry, but I am here should you have need. Do you wish for me to leave you to your tea with Lord Ravenscroft?”
Suddenly, she dreaded having to speak with Philip. “Please stay. You are a guest here, the same as him.” They shared another glance. “Talk candidly and privately later?” What she really wanted from him in this moment was a friend.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
And once more, she was in danger of being lost in that grin.
Chapter Six
Hawk was in the drawing room with Belle, only now it was after dinner where the most recent Viscount Ravenscroft had done most of the talking while Belle had alternately stewed or despaired. Mathieu had wandered into the room, but once the cat took a look at the new arrival, he had immediately fled.
Smart feline. A good judge of character.
Now, the man occupied the very wing-backed chair he had sat in earlier that day, and with a snifter of brandy in his hand, he looked every inch the country lord of the manor. Perhaps a few years younger than Hawk, the lord had the beginnings of a paunch brought on by excess rich food and too much drink. An orange satin waistcoat strained its seams as the garment stretched across the area of his body. He wore the black formal clothes as if he were in a London drawing room. Had no one told him that the rules weren’t that strict here in the country, and especially at a manor where there were hardly any guests or residents?
