Page 51 of Noble Scoundrel

Hale immediately lifted her up for a strong cuddle as he tucked his face beside hers and murmured low words of comfort. “Don’t be scared, sweet pea. No more bad men, I swear it.”

Deep and reverent, the tone of his vow went straight to Katherine’s heart.

After a moment, the girl pulled back enough to take her father’s face in her tiny hands. “Sweets. Pwease.”

He chuckled warmly and set her back on the table. “A little nibble, then it’s back to bed.”

Her smile was instant as her feet began to swing excitedly once again.

Entranced by the gentle interaction between father and daughter, Katherine was caught off guard when the man swung his attention back to her. “Care to join us?”

The savory scent of roasted meat made her mouth water and her belly rumbled in acceptance. “No, thank you. I don’t wish to intrude.”

“No intrusion,” he argued as he used his foot to push the stool across from him out from under the rough wooden table. “Have a seat, duchess.”

The irreverence in his tone and action should have been insulting, especially considering he hadn’t even risen to his feet when she’d entered. But Katherine was growing accustomed to such behavior from him, and she suspected it was mostly employed to get a rise out of her. For some reason, the man seemed to enjoy triggering her ire.

Unfortunately for him, she’d already decided not to be offended by his occasionally loutish behavior. To be honest, a great deal of society’s expected formalities had always seemed pointless to her. Though well-versed in the required deportment of their station, she and Frederick had conducted themselves far more casually while in Lincolnshire. After realizing her initial objections were triggered more by the way he set her off-balance with his boldness than any true aversion to his less refined manner, she saw little reason to enforce more formal etiquette.

Of course, that didn’t mean she didn’t respond to the hint of challenge in his voice.

Under his watchful gaze and Claire’s furtive glances, she approached the table and set her candle beside his low-burning nub of tallow. The duo of flickering flames cast the three of them in a soft, uncertain light, creating an atmosphere of gentle intimacy.

In the center of the table was a large platter heaped with cold meats, bread slathered with honey, sliced apple, and what she suspected might be an iced pastry or two from the batch cook had baked for the children that morning.

“Did you miss your evening meal in the schoolroom?” she asked, aware that he took supper with Claire every night while she and Frederick ate in the dining room.

“Never,” he replied, then grinned. “But that was hours ago and I’ve a hearty appetite. Still, my eyes might’ve been bigger than my stomach.”

Katherine flicked a glance at the overfilled platter. “I see that.”

As she settled onto the wooden stool, Hale reached for one of the pastries. Tearing it in half, he offered one portion to Claire, who took the treat with a coo of delight, before popping the other fully into his mouth.

Katherine blamed her exhaustion for not realizing she was staring when he lifted a mug and drank healthily of its contents before meeting her gaze over the rim. A flush warmed her at being caught behaving so rudely. But he didn’t seem concerned by her staring. Instead, he scraped his stool back over the stone floor and rose to his feet.

“Something to drink?” he asked as he glanced at the cupboard behind him. “No fine wine, I’m afraid, but there’s ale aplenty.”

“I can find something,” she said quickly, preparing to rise herself. “There’s no need for you to serve me, Mr. Hale.”

“Sit, dove.” His voice was stern, but the command was followed by an easy grin. “I’m already up.”

Sinking back onto the stool, she conceded. “Whatever is easiest will do.”

“Ale it is, then.”

Grasping a metal pitcher, he poured a healthy dose of ale into a mug. After setting the pitcher and the mug on the table, he reclaimed his seat. Then they stared at each other as Claire quietly licked the sugared glaze from her pastry and an awkward silence filled the room.

She shouldn’t have sat down. She should have turned and left the kitchen as soon as she’d noted him there with his daughter. The house was too quiet around them. The room too dark under the flickering flames of only two candles. The night was simply too...intimate.

Then again, it was always like this when she was near him. Breathless one moment, heart racing the next. Always on the edge of her seat, uncertain of her balance and her position.

Finally, he broke the tension with a low sound before turning his attention back to the food. Without hesitation he chose a piece of ham and brought it to his mouth with his fingers. Noting her regard, he gave a wink. “I reckon there’s no need to break out the silver.” Then he placed the morsel on his tongue before closing his mouth around it.

Momentarily distracted by the way his jaw muscles flexed and released as he chewed, she cleared her throat. Smiling at Claire, she reached for a honey-coated bun. “No, I suppose not.”

His approving grin made her belly flutter, but she ignored it to direct her focus toward the food rather than the man across from her. For being a cold meal of leftovers, it was wonderfully satisfying. And the ale was a perfect accompaniment. She’d enjoyed ale a few times before, during village festivals and once at the wedding of the local blacksmith. But tonight, the drink seemed exceptionally potent as it warmed her bones and softened her spine. Though it didn’t quite dispel all the tension she’d been carrying, it was a lovely feeling.

A soft sound drew her attention to Claire. Having finished her pastry and a small glass of milk, the two-year-old sat with her legs tucked up beneath the ruffled hem of her nightgown, as she rubbed at her eyes once again.

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