Page 22 of Hawthorne

“The meal was entirely to my liking,” he comments, his back still turned to me as he rummages through the fridge. Then, seemingly giving up on whatever it is he is looking for, he adds, “I only request you to have on the one day a meal of meat and another, a meal of fish. Other than that, I am not as exigent as my mother, and I appreciate the variety.”

“But Her Gra–”

“My mother,” he cuts me off pointedly before sitting down on the stool on the opposite side of the island. “Is not your boss. Is she?”

I shake my head, wide-eyed.

“Then you keep doing as I tell you, and everything will be fine.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Camilla, you’ve been working for my aunt for quite a few years,” the duke comments, crossing his arms over his chest with his eyes cast down. While it looks like he is looking down on the ground, he certainly looks pensive…lost somewhere in his mind. Even if, by chance, you’re uncertain about something, you can come to me, and we’ll solve it together. But know that I fully trust your abilities to run this house smoothly.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

His lips press together, forming a thin line and curling tightly, giving me a slight glimpse of how beautiful a smile of his could be. Nodding and acknowledging my words, he twists his head to the side, looking at me once again.

Those melted chocolate irises burn holes into my own, raising the tension and I try to cut it by looking around, making the moment awkward.

“Was there anything you needed from the kitchen?” I ask, hoping to kill the discomfort between us.

“Ahm, yes. I, uhm–” He stops and looks around. “I got hungry.”

“I can whip up something for you quickly, what is it that you–”

“Is there any dessert left? I’ll be fine with it. No need to cook an entire meal just for me.”

“But I coul–”

“If that dessert is anywhere near as delicious as dinner was, I’d rather have that, please.”

What is with him and cutting me off tonight?

“I can cook, Your Grace. I have known how to ever since I was twelve.”

“I never said you couldn’t, Camilla,” he drawls, studying me. “I don’t want to be a hassle, and I am craving somethingsweet.I’m sure it will help get rid of my sour mood.”

The way he slowly rakes his eyes up and down my body while emphasising the word sweet makes my skin tingle and a shiver run down my spine. I’m stunned in place by his words and how a possible double entendre sinks into my brain. His expression, though, gives nothing away. Not until the left side of his lips slightly tilts up, showing a barely-there smirk.

“Uh–” No words leave my mouth as we keep looking at each other.

How worse can this get?

“Are you going to serve me or stand there, eye-fucking me all night?”

Bloody hell!

With ablaze cheeks and a tight jaw, I jump and turn around, embarrassed. Did he catch me ogling him?I am so done!

It’s hard, though, with a man as sinfully good-looking as the duke is…I can’t help it sometimes.

Slowly walking away from him, I head for the oven, where the dessert was left to cool.

“You must have seen the traditional pudding in the fridge, but I had my favourite childhood dessert prepared for your dinner,” I blurt out.

“Bring it on.”

Meanwhile, I hear the scrape of a chair, and I know he is probably sitting down on the stool. I bring the dessert out and start to plate it accordingly.

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