Never Kiss a Laird

by Byrnes, Tess

  Sally looked at Clarissa with a charming smile of apology. “Ma’am,” she muttered politely. She looked up and saw Rupert’s horrified face goggling at her, and frowned meaningfully at him. Taking a firmer grip on her utensils, and resolutely not looking over at Hugh, Sally tried again. Once more she chased the potato around her bowl until she had it between the spoon and fork again, and, taking her under lip firmly between her teeth, she lifted the vegetable, and, bending at the knees, slowly and carefully carried it from the bowl towards Miss Riding’s plate. When she was within inches of her goal, however, her fingers cramped up and she lost control of her utensils, and the potato fell from her grasp, dropping first onto the table cloth before rolling onto the floor.

  A snort of laughter caused Sally to look up, and she met the eyes of the Earl, who was trying manfully to turn the laugh into a cough. Sally looked at his shaking shoulders, and the brown eyes that were starting to tear up as he fought to keep his countenance, and a bubble of anger began to build in her. After all, it was his fault entirely that she had been put to the expedient of assuming the guise of a maid. He had not interceded when Bridget was put out of a job when she had transgressed in a way in which the world disapproved. Transgressed in a way, Sally thought bitterly, that he was only too happy to indulge in himself. He met her blue eyes, which had narrowed and were shooting daggers at him, and he cleared his throat, and finally was able to regain a semblance of a straight face.

  Rupert rose to the occasion and reached over with one leg to kick the potato under the table, all the while looking up at the ceiling to disguise his intent.

  “Sorry,” Sally murmured to Miss Riding from between gritted teeth. Changing tactics, she brought the bowl close to Clarissa’s plate and used the fork to tip a potato onto her plate. Looking up with triumph, she met the Earl’s eyes, and at the look of unholy, but sympathetic, amusement in them, her spurt of temper died and the absurdity of the situation hit her anew.

  Trying not to giggle, she moved around the table to serve Rupert next, and the Earl attempted to restart the conversation and divert attention from Sally.

  “Mr. Denham and I had formed the intention of riding around the estate tomorrow,” he said in a voice that was only slightly unsteady. “I wonder if the ladies would care to accompany us. You could certainly ride in a carriage if you would prefer that to horseback.”

  Sally smiled at him gratefully, as she tipped a potato onto Rupert’s plate. James, coming behind her with the partridges, had a wide grin on his face that he could not for the world restrain. Rupert looked up at Sally, and mouthed the word “What?” but Sally shook her head forcefully at him, and he subsided.

  “That sounds most enjoyable,” Mrs. Riding answered. “Clarissa and I would love to accompany you.” She was the next to be served and as Sally awkwardly negotiated her cutlery once more, Mrs. Riding reached up and took the spoon and fork from Sally’s hands. “Give those to me, you silly girl,” she muttered crossly, and she neatly delivered a potato to her own plate.

  Sally moved around behind her, and as she passed behind the chair, she stuck her tongue out at the back of Mrs. Riding’s head, causing the Earl to give a crack of laughter.

  “I’m so pleased,” he informed his startled guests, making an admirable recovery. “The weather is supposed to continue mild, so you will be able to ride in an open carriage and see the grounds.”

  Sally had made her way to the Earl, and by now she had almost mastered the fork and spoon trick, and she picked up a potato and neatly placed it on his plate.

  “Finally,” she exclaimed, drawing the eyes of all the diners back to herself, as well as the gaze of the infuriated Mr. Carr. The Earl retreated behind his napkin once more, and James’s face split into a broad grin.

  “Really, my lord,” Mrs. Riding shook her head. “Most unusual.”

  Mr. Carr stepped forward, pausing in his task of keeping all the glasses filled, and intoned, “You will forgive us, ma’am. One of our footmen is absent.” The look he shot towards Sally promised that this was not the last she would hear of her serving skills, and she bobbed a curtsey and hurried from the room.

  She pushed through the green baize door, fighting a fit of giggles, and re-entered the warmth of the kitchen.

  “How did it go, dearie,” Mrs. White called over her shoulder. She was piping Sally’s whipped cream around the base of an impressive Charlotte Russe.

  “Pretty well, I think,” Sally replied in hopeful accents. “I did drop one potato.”

  “Never mind that now,” Mrs. White dismissed the incident, her mind already on other matters. “Mrs. Cameron has sent Mary up to do the rooms. She’ll pass the warming pans between the sheets, and build the fires, so you won’t have to do any of that after the meal. Fortunately the Ridings brought their own maid, so she’ll only have to unpack the gentleman’s bags. You can do the breakfast trays in Mary’s place, so mind that you come to me first thing in the morning. This lot won’t be out of bed too early, though, so we won’t be bringing up the trays until after nine.”

  James entered the kitchen behind Sally, the grin still on his face. He picked up a silver tray that held the beautifully carved haunch of venison. “Here, you take this gravy boat. I don’t see how you could do much damage with that.”

  Sally, giving him a look that clearly showed that she was not amused, picked up the little ladle, and followed him from the room. This time when she entered the room, the Earl managed to keep his countenance, and the rest of the meal passed off without incident. Mr. Carr, his fury abated by the fact that Sally dropped no further food, let her off with a mild scold after the gentleman had finally finished their port and left to join the ladies.

  “I do most sincerely apologize, Mr. Carr,” Sally said contritely.

  “Well,” the very correct butler conceded. “I am grateful that you were here to help, at any rate. Go on upstairs. Mary should be almost finished preparing the rooms, but she could probably use your help.”

  Sally walked down the gallery, pausing outside the door to the saloon in which the company had assembled. Miss Riding had discovered a harp in the corner of the room, which Rupert was dragging into the middle of the room for her. Sally watched as Clarissa settled herself in a chair and tipped the wood-inlaid instrument towards herself. She positioned her lovely white arms on either side of the harp strings, and paused for a moment with her palms flat against them, her eyes closed. Then with a graceful sweeping gesture, a scale of music filled the room, and she began plucking at the strings. Sally looked at her brother, who was staring at the musical blonde with an infatuated look on his face. Sally then glanced over at the Earl, who was inspecting the quizzing glass that hung from his vest pocket, a small smile hovering over his lips. A similar smile quirked her own lips as she tiptoed quietly away, and sped up the stairs to find Mary.

  She eventually located her through the expedient of wandering up and down the hallway, softly calling her name.

  “In here,” Mary replied, as Sally neared the end of the hall on the second floor.

  Sally entered, to find Mary building up a fire in one of the guest rooms. “Can I be of any assistance, Mary,” Sally asked.

  “Thank you!” Mary gasped gratefully. “I have still got the gentlemen’s rooms to do. Could you build a fire in the grate for Mr. Denham, and the Laird, and turn down the beds, and I’ll finish this and go on to Mr. and Mrs. Riding’s rooms? The firewood has been brought up, it just needs to be laid.”

  Sally assented, and requested directions. When she entered the room that had been assigned to her brother, she immediately went over to the bed and flopped down on her back on the soft mattress, arms extended over her head. Taking an internal inventory, she realized that not only were her feet aching, her arms were still weak from beating egg whites, and she was aware of the small of her back in way that she never had been before. She groaned and turned on her side, pulling the counterpane up around her. The lure of the feather-soft bed was almost irresistible,
but after a few minutes she resolutely pushed the covers away and got up.

  She laid the fire in the hearth, a skill she had only learned since coming to Whitethorne cottage. She straightened the covers on the bed, turning down one corner into a neat triangle, and setting her brother’s night shirt out.

  In her previous life, these services would have been performed for her, not by her. Sally sighed, and turned and sat on the bed. Did she regret leaving the protection of her family? If she had not done so, she would be at her grandmother’s estate at this moment. She would certainly not be expected to serve at table, make up the fires, or beat egg whites until her arms felt like falling off. On the other hand, she would be treated to her grandmother’s lectures, would be expected to be repentant and accept censure. She would be bustled out of sight whenever visitors came to call, and reminded of her disgrace daily. She certainly would not have been in a position to lose her virtue to the most noble Earl of Kane. Sally closed her eyes and dropped backwards onto the bed with a deeply contented sigh.

  No, she smiled to herself. No regrets. The future was very uncertain, but these memories would sustain her through it.

  She thought about the blonde girl in the green dress playing the harp for the Earl downstairs and felt a pang. Would Clarissa Riding be the next Countess of Kane? She was a very beautiful girl, Sally acknowledged to herself, and appeared to be very well-mannered. Rupert certainly was enamored of her, but next to the handsome Earl, Sally could not believe that any girl would look seriously at her brother. She pictured the Earl taking the lovely blonde girl into his arms, and her chest felt tight all of a sudden. She closed her eyes tightly, covering her face with her hands. There was no way to go back and change the past, she reminded herself. Her reputation, once lost, was not recoverable, and the Earl of Kane must have a wife with a spotless reputation. It might as well be the beautiful Miss Riding.

  Pulling herself back up to a sitting position, Sally acknowledged that she was in danger of caring too much for the Earl of Kane. His dark, handsome face featured in her dreams a little too frequently, and the desire to repeat her wanton behavior was almost overwhelming at times. Having embraced the freedoms of being without a reputation did not stop Sally from being only too aware of the drawbacks of her situation. The day that she had run away from her home, she had also turned her back on the prospect of ever reclaiming her reputation. Sally knew that she would never again be considered an eligible parti, there would be no redeeming match in her future, a fact that she had to accept. She would no doubt see the Earl court and marry another girl, and the thought made her feel like she was suffocating.

  Scooting off the bed, Sally left Rupert’s room and moved down the hallway to the Earl’s bedchamber. As soon as she opened the door she was aware of the faint, masculine scent that reminded her irresistibly of Hugh. She wandered around the room, picking up the ivory brushes on the dressing table, and the replacing them. She very competently laid a fire in the hearth, ready just to be struck alight, and then approached the large wooden four poster bed that dominated the room. She pulled the lace edged sheet down, turning it back and smoothing the silk coverlet into a perfect triangle, her hand caressing the satin-soft linen.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and she spun around to see Hugh. He closed the door behind himself, and strode forward, taking her hands in his.

  “Miss Denham. Sally. I was never more surprised in my life than when you entered the dining room.”

  “That was pretty obvious,” Sally chuckled. “I believe you dropped your spoon.”

  “I’m lucky that’s all I did. What on earth possessed you to come here dressed as a maid?”

  “I had my reasons,” Sallie temporized.

  “If I thought it was in order to see me, I should be very pleased,” Hugh murmured, slipping an arm around her and pulling her close. His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear and started nibbling, and Sally felt herself starting to melt.

  Hugh raised his head and met her eyes. “You smell deliciously of roasted partridges and baked bread,” he told her.

  “I’ve spent most of the evening in your kitchens,” Sally explained.

  “You must tell me what possessed you to do such a thing,” Hugh murmured into the soft white skin of her throat. “But not just at the moment.” He straightened, and gently pushed Sally back onto the soft bed, pressing his lips to hers.

  Sally opened her mouth to his, her senses swimming with instant desire. Hugh’s tongue teased at her own, and Sally slipped her arms inside the Earl’s severe black evening coat. She closed her eyes, and surrendered to the sensations that started with his kiss but which refused to remain sedately there. The sensitive tips of her breasts began tingling beneath the modest black stuff maid’s gown and a sweet torment throbbed between her legs. Hugh deepened his kiss, and Sally moaned aloud.

  “Mr. McLeod,” she murmured. “My lord.”

  Sally felt a puff of laughter against her cheek, and the Earl raised his head, a rueful smile on his face. “Don’t you think you could bring yourself to call me Hugh?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow.

  Sally felt an answering smile. “Hugh.” He captured her mouth once more, and Sally forgot what she had been going to say. The feeling of Hugh’s hard body pressed against her own precluded rational thought. She felt his hand on her thigh, sliding up to cup her buttocks, gently squeezing, and sending sparks of electricity through to her core. She slid her own hand down the soft lawn of the back of his shirt, and when she encountered the fabric of his pantaloons, her hand skimmed the surface and continued lower. She felt Hugh’s intake of breath, and laughed softly, squeezing his buttock as he had done to her. The Earl responded as if she had lit him on fire. His kiss became more insistent, one hand coming up to cup the back of her head, turning her head to meet his open mouth more perfectly. He started to undo the buttons that reached from her throat to her waist and she leaned back to give him better access. When he freed her tender breasts and took one rosy tip into his mouth, she couldn’t control the shudder that ran through her.

  Emboldened by his response to her touch, Sally slid her hand down his firm stomach, and as her hand reached the rigid part of him, he moaned, and rolled away.

  “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I have to get back to my guests,” he groaned reluctantly. “They are still at tea, and will not retire until I return.” He flopped onto his back, and Sally did the same. They lay side-by-side, their breath coming raggedly, each trying to regain control.

  The Earl sat up, and leaned over Sally to brush the red-gold curls from her forehead. “Promise me you will stay right here,” he demanded. “Mr. Riding was on the point of retiring when I left him, and I will send your brother to the right-about.” He kissed her. “Do not move an inch. James has been acting as my valet, and I will inform him that I do not need him, and be right back.”

  He stood and straightened his clothing, and with a final backwards glance, left the room.

  Sally scooted up so that her head was on the pillow, and took stock of the situation. She really should go find Mary, but, she considered, the other maid would probably retire to bed as soon as she finished her own tasks. Sally would not be able to question her about the carrier until the next morning. Perhaps the Earl, Hugh, she reminded herself with a smile, could tell her the name of the carrier. There were many very legitimate reasons why she should stay right were she was, she thought virtuously, none of which had anything to do with the handsome Earl and the way he made her feel when he kissed her. She sat up and pulled off her boots, then turned over on her side and snuggled into the soft linens, her body humming slightly as she waited for the Earl to return.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sally stretched luxuriously, enjoying the feel of the satiny sheets on her skin. Her arm encountered a firm body, and her eyes flew open. She sat up, and realized that she was still in the Earl’s bed, her dress had been removed as had her chemise, pantaloons and stoc
kings. Early morning sunlight was streaming between the curtains, and the clock on the mantel confirmed that it was six o’clock in the morning. She must have fallen asleep, she thought, realizing that she had no memory of the Earl returning to his room.

  She looked over at the other occupant of the bed. Hugh was lying on his side, facing her, his dark hair falling over his forehead, a fine stubble on his chin. Sally raised herself up on one elbow. In his sleep, Hugh appeared young and vulnerable. Sally traced a finger down his straight nose, over his firm lips, and his rough chin. She continued down, over his throat, and down his bare chest. She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and Hugh moaned, and captured her in his arms.

  “I thought you were asleep,” Sally teased.

  ‘I was. It was the only thing I could do when I returned and found you unconscious last night.”

  Sally leaned against his chest, propping her chin on one fist. “You should have woken me up.”

  “I tried to!” Hugh exclaimed, sounding very sorry for himself. “You didn’t so much as open an eye when I removed your dress, and put you into the bed.”

  Sally laughed apologetically. “I’m sorry. You have no idea how hard your staff works, though. From the moment I walked into the Castle I have either been beating eggs, or building fires, or serving at table. It’s exhausting!”

  A glinting smile entered Hugh’s eyes. “I will treasure forever the sight of you flipping vegetables all over the dining table, Miss Denham.”

  “That is definitely a skill that is not as easy as it appears,” Sally told him, with a rueful laugh. “I have a new found respect for our footmen back at Denham Park, believe me. Be that as it may, I have to go. I have to bring up the breakfast trays.”