Housekeeper at His Beck and Call. Susan Stephens
Читать онлайн книгу.
‘We will?’
She smiled at him. ‘Pass me the rest of those things, will you?’
He picked up the pile of cutlery, but as he handed them to her they slipped out of her soapy hands into the bowl, splashing water everywhere. As she shrieked and jumped back he was forced to steady her. ‘Here…wait until I’ve wiped the floor, or you might slip on the tiles in your bare feet. He hunkered down. Her feet were splashed with soapsuds too, and he decided to dry them before turning his attention to the floor. Her nails were like shells, painted the palest pink, in honour of the wedding, he presumed. They were the softest, tiniest feet he’d ever seen on a woman. Balling up the tea towel, he very carefully blotted them dry. The room went very quiet; so quiet he could hear her breathing. Tension was like an electric current joining them. Lifting one of her feet, he rested it on his knee. When he lifted it again to blot her sole she gave an excited whimper. ‘Ticklish?’
She didn’t answer; he wasn’t sure she could.
Lowering that foot, he put himself through the same torture with the other. The temptation to massage her feet and show her just how sensitive they were was overwhelming him.
She had to lean on the sink for support. It had nothing to do with keeping her balance and everything to do with the feelings that were flooding her. She had never known she was capable of such strong sensations…and all Cade was doing was drying her feet, though in reality he was doing so much more. She wanted to moan and let her feelings out…She wanted to think straight and breathe steadily. But neither was possible. She had to hide her thoughts and pretend this wasn’t happening. He was drying her wet feet, and that was all.
Her feet, for goodness’ sake! Feet were for walking with, useful for kicking a ball with, and occasionally ornamental in the summer in a pair of strappy sandals. Feet were not erotic hot-spots…were they?
He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He couldn’t believe it was turning him on to this extent. He had to stop now. He must stop now…‘Let’s leave this,’ he said, ditching the towel as he stood up. ‘I haven’t shown you round yet.’
‘Oh, that would be great,’ she said with huge enthusiasm, thankful for the reprieve and forgetting her earlier determination to stay in the kitchen until everything was straight. ‘So there is accommodation with the job?’
‘Of a sort.’ He grimaced. ‘It isn’t the Ritz.’
‘That’s okay.’
Liv hesitated by the door, overcome by the sense of taking a step into the unknown with a man she didn’t know. And when that man was Cade…
But she must at least try for this job, or else be content with her mother’s assessment of her. Gathering her courage, she followed Cade into the main part of the house.
Far from being the stately home she had imagined Featherstone Hall was suffering badly from neglect. ‘How sad,’ she murmured as Cade led her past a deserted ballroom. She could imagine it must have rung with music and laughter at one time, but now it was just a vast, empty space providing accommodation for a colony of spiders, judging by the cobwebs.
‘Come on,’ Cade urged, as if it saddened him too and he didn’t want to linger.
Or was that her imagination working overtime again? Liv wondered as they headed upstairs.
There were several flights of stairs, starting with a grand sweeping staircase, and ending in a narrow flight of steps winding up to the attic rooms. ‘Servants’ quarters?’ she asked him dryly.
‘That’s right—’
This was worse than she had imagined. The room Cade showed her into looked as if it hadn’t seen a lick of paint in centuries. And he expected to keep his staff? But then he could hardly be expected to keep everything up to date while he was off fighting for his country, Liv reminded herself. She gazed round the bare room with its tiny window and sloping ceilings and mentally girded her loins. She had been spoiled long enough, lived in comfort long enough. ‘This is fine.’
Judging by Cade’s expression, he was seeing the room through her eyes, as if for the first time, and he didn’t like what he saw. ‘Are you sure this is okay for you?’
She had been wondering how long it was since he’d had his last military haircut. Some time, she guessed now as he ruffled his inky-black hair. ‘Positive,’ she confirmed, refocusing. Maybe he’d grown his hair to cover his scars? She could see more of them cutting through his tan now he’d brushed his hair back from his forehead.
‘I haven’t been up here recently,’ he admitted, ‘and, as you can see, things have got kind of neglected.’
She felt a little glow of pleasure that he cared. She’d suspected he’d a human side and just hid it well. Or maybe she was clutching at straws and shouldn’t allow herself to get carried away; she liked Cade Grant far too much already. ‘All I need,’ she reassured him, ‘is a bed, a window and a door.’
He wanted to smile, but stopped himself in time. She’d struck a chord with him. He’d grown up in undiluted splendour, but what Liv described was how he’d felt on the day he’d joined the army. ‘I wouldn’t object to you making a few improvements…’
If she was here long enough there would have to be more than a few improvements, Liv reflected, and not just to the house.
CHAPTER THREE
CADE was full of surprises, Liv thought, gazing at the clothes he’d brought upstairs. She’d smiled when he’d asked her to take them to the cleaners in town where they did a turn-around service. How nice was that? He must take care of his gran’s cleaning for the old lady. And now Liv was on the point of leaving her attic room, to undertake this, the first of her missions—settling in having taken her all of thirty seconds, which was the time it took to throw open the window, turn back the bed, and discover that Cade had a lot to learn about bedding.
But his heart was in the right place. And it wasn’t just this kind deed. He had magicked up some acceptable army gear for her to wear, comprising a plain blue track suit and trainers in the correct size. Apparently he ran courses in the grounds when he was home—another plus point in his favour—and kept a stock of clothes. And then he’d insisted on giving her a wad of money ‘for anything else she might need’. When she’d protested her needs were few, he’d quirked a brow and she’d given in. She must buy some new clothes—an interim solution, he’d said. He’d just shrugged when she’d assured him she’d pay back every penny out of her wages. ‘I haven’t hired you yet,’ he’d reminded her.
Which had made her doubly determined to nail the job. Cade might seem a little gruff on first meetng, but life had made him that way. She had seen a different side of him briefly, and, however well hidden that side might be, she liked what she saw.
Wasn’t it easy to find excuses for a man who made her thrill with just a glance? Liv’s inner voice suggested. And was it the thought of those condoms in the drawer or the barren room that was making that quiver run down her spine now?
The room, Liv told her inner voice firmly; there was so much she could do with it. For someone who revelled in frills and flounces it was a blank canvas upon which she couldn’t wait to get started. What it amounted to was this—whatever Cade threw at her, she had to tough it out. She had nowhere else to go. And after the wedding fiasco she had no intention of becoming known as a serial bolter. People thought she was ditsy enough already, just because she looked a certain way, and this was her opportunity to prove them wrong. Yes, the thought of going into town on the afternoon of her aborted wedding frightened the pants off her, but she had to show her face in town some time, so why not make it now?
He frowned as he watched Liv marching down the drive. It hadn’t occurred to him she couldn’t drive. It hadn’t occurred to him anyone over the age of seventeen couldn’t drive. It made him wonder what else was lacking in her education. Recalling her horrified reaction when she’d spotted the condoms in the drawer, he had to consider the possibility she