Page 16 of Tangwystle
He said it in a dark tone that sent shivers down my spine. But I heard something else. On my knees, I stared up at him. Stared up at the man who said my name in almost a wistful way.
For a beat, then two, he stared down at me. His sapphire eyes were darker than ever, reflecting the flames from the fireplace.
I’d read enough literature to know what most women did when on their knees in front of men like Baz. If I could have broken away from his gaze, I’d probably have glanced at his belt.Have wondered if that’s what he wanted. And stars above, did my pussy clench at the thought.
But he wanted something else.
“Kiss my shoe.”
His demand coursed through me, thrilling and scaring me while confusing me too. Because what did he mean by asking me to kiss his shoe?
On my hands and knees, my chest lifting with each breath, I found myself bending. Lowering myself before him. I pressed a kiss to the tip of his leather shoe.
When I looked up, my heart hammering, I caught the spark in Baz’s eye. And a fuse inside me lit.
six
Two daysafter I pressed my lips against Baz’s shoe (an event which equal parts mortified and enthralled me), he failed to come downstairs for breakfast.
The first morning after he had arrived at Blackwell Manor, I entered the kitchen and found Baz there, trying to work the stove and putting on the kettle. I’d subsequently started my mornings earlier, but Baz would still come into the kitchen, normally whistling and much too bright.
On this particular morning, I had pulled the morning's biscuit and jam out. The tea was ready, and yet still he never appeared. I even stood at the bottom of the servant stairs peering up. Listening and waiting to hear his tread or the little hums he constantly made under his breath.
An hour went by. I checked out the windows, wondering if he’d slipped out, off to see one of the businessmen in town.
I put one foot on the bottom stair and hovered there, debating. Then I climbed, one foot in front of the others. It was ridiculous how nervous I felt. I used these stairs every day to get to the bedrooms, which I cleaned. But I crept forward on light feet, afraid I’d disturb something or worse—be called silly.
The master of Blackwell Manor could take his meals whenever he wanted. He wasn’t forced to eat breakfast with me every morning.
Except what if something was wrong? I’d be remiss in my position if I didn’t come to the aid of my employer when he needed help.
The floorboard outside his door creaked. I stifled my breath, leaning an ear to the door. Silence.
Knocking meant disturbing that silence. And maybe the Manor heard my hesitation because the door handle clicked, unlocking itself.
The original Blackwells had imbued their manor with magic for their protection. As a servant, I caught glimpses. The occasional pulsing of power. Lights flickering if Master Blackwell needed help.
Was this a sign that the Manor’s new owner needed something?
If that were the case, why didn’t the Manor grab my attention earlier?
I opened the heavy door only to find stillness.
I’d been in this room plenty of times. Both when it belonged to Master Blackwell and now to Baz. I’d changed the sheets only yesterday.
Yet, it felt different. It wasn’t just a room needing new linens. Baz breathed deeply, not quite a snore. But a sign of deep slumber.
My heart slowed, my shoulders slumping. I shot a furious gaze at the ceiling as if I had the authority to offer up a remonstrance to the Manor.
Unprofessional. It was entirely unprofessional of me to be in here. If I were a valet, maybe, but it wasn’t left to me to wake and dress Baz.
But then again, what if the Manor were on to something?
I stepped into the room, getting closer to the large four-poster bed. Baz was tangled in a dark blue satin duvet that cost a fortune.
He didn’t appear ill, but it didn’t matter. I froze when I saw his naked chest. Thank the stars the sheets covered his legs because I couldn’t tell if he wore any clothes.
I stared for an embarrassingly long time at his muscles and the trail of hair leading downward.
