"You look very domesticated," she said.
"Yes. I own kitchen utensils and know how to use them."
She laughed at his mischievous tone. She got along so well with Marcus. Although they came from very different backgrounds, they just clicked.
She followed him along the wide private corridor, peeking in open doors, and caught a glimpse of a luxurious living area with white leather sofas, and a dining room. He led her into a large contemporary kitchen with sparkly white marble surfaces and stainless steel appliances. The decor here was a far cry from the carefully maintained historic rooms downstairs.
Toast popped up out of a toaster. He put the slices on a plate and slathered them with Rosemoor goat butter, and then prodded the scrambled eggs in the pan on the stove.
"Scrambled eggs on toast," Emily said, trying to keep a straight face.
"Ah, that's where you're wrong. I'm far more sophisticated than that." He gave her a grin. "Scrambled eggs on toast topped with smoked salmon."
"Oh my. Completely different then," she joked, playing along. Happiness bubbled inside her as she stepped up beside him to butter some more toast when it popped up, and he started serving the eggs.
"Note the butter, fresh from the Rosemoor Dairy, and the eggs are also from Rosemoor Farm, all organic."
"I'm impressed," she said. "Where does the smoked salmon come from?"
"The local supermarket," he said.
For some reason that seemed hilarious and they both burst out laughing, making the dogs bark and jump around. The animals weren't sure what they were celebrating, but were eager to join in the fun.
Marcus and Emily sat at the marble island in the kitchen on trendy tall stools upholstered with white leather, and sipped white wine from crystal glasses that sparkled like diamonds in the light from the recessed spotlights. His apartment had an ambience of privilege like an exclusive restaurant. Emily had worked in such places but never eaten there, yet she felt relaxed here with Marcus.
She had never enjoyed scrambled eggs on toast as much. Marcus was friendly and easy to get along with. Emily found herself chatting as if he were an old friend.
"So, how long have you worked as a chef?" Marcus asked.
"Just over ten years." Emily ran a hand through her hair as she visualized all the places she'd worked. "I started at the bottom and worked my way up."
"Do you have a favorite place you've worked?"
She laughed. "A cruise liner."
Marcus's eyebrows rose. "Sounds interesting."
"It was. I wish I'd never left. It was hard work, but the people I worked with were great, and the ship cruised all over the place, Norway, Iceland, the Med, the Caribbean. I had a chance to visit loads of places."
"So, why did you move on?"
Without intending to, she'd led Marcus right to the subject she wanted to avoid. As she tried to think of a way to change the topic, she realized the prospect of confiding in him didn't scare her; in fact, it would be a relief to talk about what had happened. Marcus was a nice guy. He wouldn't judge her.
"One of the regular stops on the Mediterranean cruise itinerary was Malaga. I met a Spanish guy there who ran his own restaurant and needed a chef. We sort of got romantically involved as well."
"So you worked for him?"
"I thought we were partners."
Marcus nodded, obviously understanding the relationship had not turned out as she expected. "As you're back here, I'm guessing it didn't work out."
Emily took a large gulp of wine to wash away the familiar wave of anger at herself for being so stupid and gullible. "That's an understatement," she said. "I don't know if he ever had feelings for me, or if he just romanced me so I'd work for nothing." And loan him money. But she didn't want to say that. It was too embarrassing.
Marcus reached across the shiny white marble surface and settled his large, warm hand over hers and squeezed. "I'm sorry. I know how you feel. All you can do is draw a line under it and give yourself a fresh start."
Emily nodded. She wanted to do that, but until she paid off her credit card debt, she could never move on.
• • •
Under the spotlights, Emily's eyes were mossy green. Marcus rested his chin in his hand as he listened to the soft modulation of her voice. The slight burr of the local accent was charming. Her chestnut-colored hair hung loose around her shoulders, and the only makeup she wore was the black on her lashes.
She was softly spoken, casually dressed, and unpretentious—the polar opposite of his ex-wife. He'd grown to hate the way Gabriella obsessed about her appearance, as though the world would end if someone saw her without her makeup on. Even he rarely saw her naked face; she even came to bed wearing makeup.
Gabriella's beauty had attracted him from the start, the spell of her pretty face blinding him to her faults. He'd learned a salutary lesson from that: Don't judge a woman by her appearance. Emily might not be a candidate for Miss Universe, but he didn't care if her nose was a little too big. There was something enchanting about the way she laughed, and her slight overbite was rather sexy.
"Sorry you had such a bad experience in Spain. Perhaps you should stick to Englishmen." He laughed, wondering if that sounded like a come-on, and not worried if it did. What she needed was a boost to her confidence to make her feel good about herself again.
Marcus joked and flirted, taking pleasure in cheering her up. He didn't remember laughing so much on a date, not that this was a date, of course. She was fast becoming a friend, though. A good arrangement, since they lived in the same place and would see a lot of each other.
He touched her hand again playfully, enjoying the buzz of sensation up his arm at the contact. While he tried to cheer her up, he was making himself feel better too.
"Shall I give you the guided tour?" He stood and gestured for her to follow as he led her into the sitting room, a long room with wonderful views over the countryside to Rosemoor Village in the distance.
"I didn't expect your apartment to be so modern."
"Not my doing. I'd have kept it more in character with the house. My ex-wife was responsible for redecorating. It's a good thing my mother didn't live to see the result, or we'd have been banished."
Marcus did his best to keep the mood light, yet he was increasingly aware of Emily's slender form as she walked beside him. He stepped close to catch the sweet fragrance of her hair, which smelled like vanilla and cherries. As he did, he placed a guiding hand on her back.
He'd touched her casually before and not given it any thought. Now the accidental brush of their arms as they passed through a doorway completely dominated his senses.
"Marcus," she said, obviously not for the first time. He dragged his thoughts back from the warm rush of attraction that had overtaken his mind.
"Sorry," he said with a smile. "Suddenly thought of something I need to do later."
"Do you want to make yourself a note so you don't forget?"
"Good idea." He dug his phone out of his pocket, opened the notes app, and typed in *Emily * Emily * Emily*, then returned to the home screen quickly in case she noticed, wondering if he had taken leave of his senses.
During his meeting with his stockbroker in London this week, thoughts of Emily had kept creeping into his mind. They were the strangest random things like how she walked with a little bounce in her step when she was out with Snow White, and how she chewed her lip when she was thinking.
"I was saying you haven't had your apartment cleaned since I started work. I have two new maids starting next week, but I can go over your apartment myself tomorrow, if you like."
Marcus couldn't care less if his apartment was cleaned a few days late. As soon as it was done, Peggy made it dirty again anyway. But he liked the idea of having Emily here with him, even if she was only pushing a vacuum around.
"Tomorrow's Sunday," he said.
She shrugged. "I'll clean in the morning while you're at church, and in the afternoon, I'll start dinner. You did say I could co
ok for you tomorrow night? I'm itching to cook something nice again."
"Sounds perfect to me." He could get used to having Emily around.
Chapter Seven
Emily stepped out into the crisp Sunday morning, the cold nipping at her cheeks. She pushed her hands in her pockets and glanced around for Marcus. He called from the high path that ran around the elevated ground above the lawn.
"Come on, Snowy." Emily jogged across the grass and up the mossy stone steps to join him. He stood admiring the view over the lake.
"We have moorhens and mallards wintering on the lake. We'll have lots of fluffy ducklings in the spring," he said. As they walked, a heron flew over, its huge wings flapping slowly. "Off to raid the lake of its fish again," Marcus said ruefully.
She loved walking with him because he knew so much about the local area and the countryside. The little birds all looked alike to her, yet he could identify the different species. He had bird-feeding stations stocked with suet balls, peanuts, sunflower seeds, and grain at various points in the garden. Every day when he walked Peggy, he checked to be sure his gardeners had restocked the birdseed. It must cost him a fortune.
When they arrived back, Emily fetched a vacuum cleaner and cleaning supplies from the utility cupboard on the ground floor and took it up to Marcus's apartment. When he answered the door, he had already changed into his suit to go to church.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather come with me and clean another time?" he asked.
She would love to go with him if it were just the two of them, but she preferred not to sit in the Bramwell pew at the front of the church again. Her grandmother said tongues in the village were already wagging.
"Thanks for asking, but I'd like to stay and get on with this." She waved a duster.
"Well, Cinderella, you will go to the ball later then."
When he grinned, a burst of shivery pleasure passed through her, making her knees weak. She'd told herself not to fall for Marcus, but her heart had a bad track record when it came to listening to her head. After only a week, she was halfway in love with him already. She'd never met a man like him before. On first acquaintance, he'd seemed a little aloof, but now that she knew him, he was kind and friendly.
She caught his fragrance, the spicy smell mixed with fresh air, and had to stifle her sigh of appreciation.
"So do I look presentable?" He smoothed his hands down the front of his jacket and checked his cuffs.
"Very stylish." And absolutely gorgeous. To distract herself, she tried to be practical. "Your hair is sticking up a little, Marcus."
He patted down the wrong side, so Emily stepped closer to him, reached up, and smoothed the short wayward strands with her fingertips. She met his deep brown gaze. They were so close, if she'd risen a little higher on her toes, she could have kissed him.
A hot pulse of awareness flashed in his eyes and warmed her body. For a moment she thought he would kiss her, but he stepped back and cleared his throat. "I'd better be going. All right if I leave Peggy with you this time?"
Emily struggled to breathe as tingly longing ran along her limbs and fogged her brain. She couldn't believe the effect Marcus had on her. She'd never experienced it before.
"I'd love to look after Peggy, if you think she'll want to stay with me."
"Of course she will. As far as Peggy's concerned, you and Snowy are part of our pack now." He checked his watch and ran a hand along his dog's back to stroke her ears. "You be a good girl, Pegs. I'll see you soon, darling."
Then he raised a hand to Emily and went out the door.
Emily stared at the door after he'd gone, stunned, the whole situation feeling unreal. Marcus Bramwell had just told her she was part of his pack. Not the most romantic thing a man had ever said to her, but it still made her heart flutter.
• • •
Marcus climbed in his car and drove to the church in a daze, his thoughts and feelings swirling like a whirlpool. When he arrived, he parked in the road a little distance from the church, gripping his steering wheel, his gaze fixed unseeing in the distance. Half of him wanted to drive right back to the hall and kiss Emily. He'd had a chance. Why hadn't he taken it?
He rubbed a hand over his mouth, reliving the moment Emily had smoothed down his hair. She'd risen to her toes and he'd frozen, transfixed by her proximity, yearning to take her in his arms but lacking the confidence to do so.
If he started something with Emily, what would happen if it went wrong? He couldn't stand going through the trauma of another breakup like the one with Gabriella, although he was sure Emily would never behave like his ex-wife. Not in a million years. Yet could he trust his judgment? He'd made a huge mistake once.
The problem was, as the owner of Rosemoor Estate, when he made bad relationship decisions it had the potential to impact his whole family, as well as those whose livelihoods depended on the estate. He was responsible for too many people to act rashly. He had to think this thing with Emily through before he acted. He must be absolutely sure it was right.
Someone drummed their fingers on his car window, making him jump. His niece, Chloe, pressed her nose against the glass. "Come on, Uncle Marcus. Get out. We're waiting for you."
He smiled at Chloe and nodded, noticing his cousin Owen raise a hand in greeting as he came closer, his arm around his wife.
Owen and Jennifer's relationship had been rocky, yet they'd worked that out and were happy now. Surely it was possible for Marcus to be happy, if he had the confidence to try. It wasn't as if he was about to propose marriage to Emily. He would take things one slow step at a time.
• • •
During Emily's second week at Rosemoor Hall, along with more mundane jobs like meeting the window cleaner and the man who valeted Marcus's cars, Emily drew up a list of local farms to supply organic vegetables, meat, and cow's dairy products. Where possible, she selected Rosemoor tenant farmers.
She spent a lot of the week doing her favorite thing, cooking. She prepared some of the dishes from the wedding menu they were offering to clients for Vicky and Marcus to sample.
Once she finished preparing a batch of desserts, she arranged them on the massive old table in the middle of the kitchen at Rosemoor, just down the corridor from her apartment. The appliances were circa 1950, but Emily loved the huge old stove. It actually cooked really well.
Marcus had supplied her with the modern small appliances and kitchen tools she'd asked for, and she hummed to herself as she worked while Snow White followed her around, patiently waiting for scraps to fall on the floor.
"Desserts are bad for you, sweetie." Emily wanted to stroke her dog, but resisted while she was cooking because it was unhygienic. The local environmental health officer had instructed that no pets be allowed in the kitchen, but she was only preparing samples for Vicky and Marcus to try.
She arranged the small ramekins of crème brûlée decorated with bunches of red currants on a lace tablecloth. Then she added the portions of sticky toffee pudding, the chocolate pots de crème decorated with shaved chocolate, her signature dessert, and finally a tray loaded with individual apple and blackberry crumbles, along with their small jugs of steaming yellow custard.
"Are you ready for the photos?" Vicky brought in a young man from the village who was studying photography. He'd been coming in to take shots to go in their new brochure, and he'd already photographed the main courses she'd prepared earlier in the week.
"Yes, just about. Tell me if I need to rearrange anything."
She stepped aside and poured cups of tea for herself and Vicky. They leaned back against the kitchen counter and watched as the teenager angled his camera and clicked the shutter.
"By the way, Jonathan asked me to take him a crème brûlée. He has a bit of a sweet tooth," Vicky said.
"Of course. As soon as the photos are done, I'll hide a crème brûlée in the fridge. I'm sure Marcus can't eat them all."
"What are you planning to hide from me?" Marcus said, striding in with Peggy at his
heels.
"You'll get fat if you eat all these desserts." Vicky prodded his middle.
"I'm addicted to Emily's sticky toffee pudding. Weird, as I always thought I was a savory kinda guy."
"Well, I think you're sweet." Emily meant the words as a joke, but as she met his deep brown gaze, the familiar bump in her pulse made her flush.
The chemistry between them made her nerves tingle whenever he was in the room, yet he'd kept his distance from her since last weekend. Was it possible the attraction was all one-sided?
Of course, she should be grateful for his restraint. Eventually she would get over this silly crush on her boss, and she'd still have a job she loved, a place to stay, and a way to pay her debts.
Once the photographer had finished, Marcus, Vicky, and Emily all grabbed teaspoons and dipped into the desserts, sampling everything.
Vicky closed her eyes. "Mmm. Your chocolate pots are heavenly. You must give me the recipe."
Dog claws clattering on the tile floor heralded Paddy, dashing in to greet Peggy and Snow White. Owen and Chloe followed him in through the door a few moments later.
Chloe squealed when she saw the table laden with desserts. "Can I try them?"
"Of course. Grab a spoon."
Chloe went straight to the chocolate pots, demolishing one in a few mouthfuls.
"Slow down, cocoa puff," Owen said. "You'll make yourself sick."
"Don't call me that, Dad. It makes me sound like a baby."
"I'd say the name is rather appropriate now that you're full of chocolate." Marcus tugged playfully on her ponytail and she gave him a stubborn scowl, but it didn't stop her from grabbing a second pot of chocolate.
"What's your favorite of these desserts, Owen?" Emily asked. He hadn't taken a bite yet, just stared longingly at the display.
"Crumble and custard. Can I take one home for dinner? I'd better not eat it now. Jennifer says I'm eating too much sugar. She's banned my chocolate chip cookies."
Marcus chuckled. "That's the advantage of not having a wife. I can eat as much as I want of anything." Marcus put his arm around Emily's shoulders. "With Emily, I have all the advantages of having a wife without having one."
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