Page 48 of A Lady's Key to Passion

The Earl grinned. “Just do your best. If you must retreat, then so be it. We have made a start, at least.”

Suddenly, he saw her standing there. Jane froze. What had she been thinking to come here? She just hadn’t realised that work was starting on the house so soon or that he would wish to be here to supervise it. It was too late to scurry back down the path.

In her confusion, she had forgotten entirely about holding onto her bonnet. Before she knew it, it was off her head, whipping through the air before bouncing along the ground. Mortified, she pursued it, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t manage to catch it. The sudden pursuit dislodged her hairpins, sending her hair flying around her face.

Jane heard the sound of deep male laughter. Her face burnt. How foolish must she look? But then she saw the Earl running ahead of her, swooping up the bonnet in one hand. He walked back to her, his eyes fixed upon her face.

“Come inside,” he said in a curt voice. “It is too wild out here for you. You can fix your hair.”

She had no choice but to obey him. The wind was getting worse. She could barely place one foot in front of the other now. It was like she was fighting against it. Her hair was flying everywhere.

He closed the door behind them firmly. The sound of the howling wind abated. Jane took a deep breath, pushing her hair off her face. She turned to him.

“Come into the kitchen,” he commanded. “I have the old wood stove working. You can warm yourself at least.”

In the kitchen, she sat down on an old rocking chair near the stove. She had to admit to herself that it was pleasant after the wildness of the outdoors. The fire in the stove crackled, and already a faint warmth was permeating her cold hands. She put them nearer the stove, warming them.

He sat down opposite her. He wore a bemused expression.

“What on earth possessed you to walk in this weather?” he asked.

Jane blushed fiercely. “I did not realise the wind was so bad when I left my home,” she admitted. “It got steadily worse by the time I reached the top of the cliff.”

He grinned. “Itiswild. I doubt the workmen will stay much longer today. It is far too dangerous.” He stood up. “In fact, I am telling them to leave now. I shall not be responsible for any injuries. They can return tomorrow when it is calmer.”

Jane watched him leave the room. Another ten minutes passed. She gazed around the kitchen. It was a large room with a long bench running down the middle. Restless, she stood up, walking around the room. She peered inside cupboards. To her surprise, a lot of kitchen utensils and crockery had been left behind. They were covered with dust.

She spied an old silver teapot on a dresser. She took it down, blowing off the dust and cobwebs. It was a beautiful old teapot, she thought, rubbing at it with her handkerchief. With a good polish, it would come up looking like new.

“Are you looking for work in my kitchen?” His voice was amused.

Jane spun around, hastily placing the teapot back in its place. They stared at one another.

“Have the workmen left?” she asked, hating how breathless her voice sounded to her own ears.

He nodded. “They have. They have packed up their tools and shall return tomorrow if the wind has settled by then, of course.” His face fell. “It is a pity. I was looking forward to much work being done today.”

Her heart beat hard in her chest. “I did not realise you were starting the renovations so soon. Are you planning to be here every day to oversee the work?”

“I am not sure,” he said, smiling slowly. “I wanted to be here today for the start of it. But I think Idowant to be here as much as I can. It will be rather exciting watching the progress of it.”

She nodded. “I understand. It is your vision of how you want the house to look in the end.” She smiled. “And I am sure they shall work faster if you are here.”

“Indeed,” he said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I never realised how exciting having a project is. I have a picture in my mind of how the house will look at the end and cannot wait to see it.” He paused. “I do not know where this enthusiasm has come from. I hardly care what my other houses are like.”

“Cliff Lodge is a special place,” said Jane, her heart twisting. “I have always felt it. The house is one of the most beautiful in this district. But it has been sorely neglected. I cannot wait to see its transformation, either.”

He nodded but did not reply. They stood there staring at each other. The air between them thickened imperceptibly. Jane’s heart started to thud painfully. She suddenly realised that with the workmen gone, they were all alone here, once again.

“Your hair,” he said in a low voice.

“What?” she whispered, confused.

He took a step towards her, grabbing a lock of her hair, and winding it around his finger. “I have never seen it down,” he said slowly, in an almost pensive voice. “It looks like spun silk.”

Jane’s breath caught in her throat. How had this happened, yet again?

She shook her head. It must stop. And she had to tell him. Now.

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