Page 86 of The Sisters of Sea View
She nodded. “Exactly.”
“No wonder cooks have arms like caber tossers.” He sent her a quick sideways glance. “Present company excepted, of course.Yours, Miss Sarah, are slender and feminine. What I’ve seen of them at any rate.”
Her cheeks flushed hot. Another glance. If he noticed, she would blame the heat of the oven. Thankfully, he made no comment.
He washed his hands in the nearby basin and dried them on a towel. “How about I give it a go? And ye supervise to make sure I do it correctly.”
“Really? Thank you.”
He rolled up his shirtsleeves, exposing masculine forearms sprinkled with golden hairs. Suppressing the desire to touch them, she handed him a large wooden spoon.
He set to stirring. The longer he beat the mixture, the more the ropey muscles of his forearms protruded.
Forcing her attention elsewhere, Sarah busied herself for a time, putting away ingredients and sweeping up spilled flour. Then she buttered a pan and added more fuel to the fire before coming back to view his progress.
“You are much stronger and faster than I am. I don’t think we’ll need an hour at all. That looks good already.”
He held the bowl for her, and she scraped the batter into the pan, smoothing out the top. Carrying the pan over to the oven, she slid it inside.
Then she returned to the table to finish cleaning up.
His gaze rested on her cheek. “May I? You’ve got something just ... there.” He gestured vaguely to her face.
She stilled, wary and eager at once. He gently lifted her chin with one hand while he swiped something from her skin with the other.
“Just a wee dab of batter.” Showing her the creamy dollop on his index finger, he then raised it to his mouth. He didn’t lick it, but rather pressed his lips to the spot like a kiss.
Throat dry, she swallowed. “Well?”
He nodded thoughtfully, his focus returning to her cheek before lowering to her mouth. “Wants a wee bit of sugar, if ye ask me.”
And Sarah was no longer certain they were talking about the cake.
The next morning, Viola carried over a plate of Sarah’s biscuits and scones to their neighbors at Westmount to unload some of the extra bounty of Sarah’s new baking endeavors. They had a lot left over after the picnic.
She knocked on the kitchen door, meaning to simply drop off the covered plate and go, but instead of Mr. Chown coming to the door, Mr. Hutton senior answered it himself, dressed except for a cravat, hair slightly rumpled from sleep.
“Ah, Miss Viola. Come in, come in. You’ve caught me helping myself to coffee.”
“You are up early,” she said.
“Can’t sleep after sunrise. Can’t sleep much period, these days. Don’t get old, Miss Summers.”
She smirked. “I shan’t if you shan’t.”
He grinned and lifted his cup. “Chown has not even finished laying breakfast yet, but one must have his coffee first thing.”
“Indeed.”
“Jack and Armaan have gone for a swim, and Colin ... well, most days we are lucky to see him by noon.”
“Another swim?” At the memory of watching the major and Armaan in the water, Viola’s cheeks heated anew.
“Yes, they go most days. Jack is determined to regain his strength.”
“Impressive. Well.” Viola lifted the plate. “I will just leave these, then.”
“Please, join me for breakfast. And bring those.”
