Page 44 of In Search of a Husband
Everything.
This kitchen, this evening, her life.
It all had seemed much easier before she had fallen for the marquess. She froze, clamping her eyes shut to take note that shemust tell the girls the risks of falling for such a man. Her mother had never.
It helped of course that he was titled.
“What happened?” a voice asked from the doorway.
Not a voice,hisvoice.
Gabriel’s voice.
She could listen to that warm Scottish burr for hours. Not that she ever had a chance. He forever seemed to be trudging off to his office or into the village. No matter, it was downright wrong for a man to look so undeniably good filling up her doorway.
“I am baking.”
“The kitchen is covered in flour.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. And since his shirtsleeves were rolled, exposing his wonderfully toned forearms, she punched the dough again for fear she would open her mouth and ask him to kiss her.
“I will clean it up.”
He grunted. She kept her eyes trained on the dough, feeling his eyes on her. His gaze felt more like a burning touch, yet he hadn’t moved an inch from holding up that doorway.
“Why are ye baking?”
Kate ignored him, sighing instead. She must focus. She wasn’t sure she could handle another batch failing as spectacularly as the others had. First the shortbread, then the tea cakes, and the sponge cake for the Whim Wham.
“Your sister-in-law made them, correct?”
Gabriel didn’t move. She only caught his nod as she glanced up. He hadn’t grown less attractive, unfortunately. And her annoying desire to kiss his mouth and discover what he tasted like hadn’t lessened. So overall, the night was a complete disaster.
“That doesna explain why ye’re attemptin’ to bake”—he glanced around at the work surfaces piled with dirty pans and finished batches of desserts—”every dessert kent to a Scottish man.”
She absolutely hated how the later hours of the evening brought around a less polished version of Gabriel. Of how his voice wasrougher, the accent thicker, his eyes more honest than whatever it was he hid behind during the day.
“Good, I haven’t forgotten any then.”
“Kate.”
She slammed her hand down into the dough and sputtered as a cloud of flour puffed upward. “I have a lot to do right now,” she said, wiping her face.
But the edge of her anger faded as soon as his chuckle vibrated off the stone walls of the old castle kitchen. Gabriel was a cup of tea after a bad day, a warm blanket stealing away the evening’s chill, the bite of the whisky he was giving his life over to.
He was warmth… and temptation.
She had been hired as a governess, not to carry on some silly flirtation with a man who would only break her heart. But she was lonely, and perhaps there was some small sliver of a chance that she could hope herself worthy of being wanted.
Kate glanced up and blew a black curl away from her face. “Don’t say anything,” she cautioned.
He pushed off from the doorway and stalked closer. There was something to be said for a man who could toss you over his shoulder.
Her cheeks warmed at the memory. It wasn’t as if she had forgotten. It had played over and over in her mind all day since that swan bit Gabriel…
“How’s your bottom?”
He put on the kettle and scoffed. “My arse is fine. I wasna concerned.”
“You can keep telling yourself that, but I saw you try to outrun that swan.”
