Viscount of Vanity, Tammy Andresen [top reads txt] 📗

very little? She hadn’t a clue. “Would you say you’re a kind man or a cruel one?”

That made him smile, visibly relaxing. “My friends would tell you I am exceptionally even-tempered.”

“Do you indulge in an excess of drinking?”

He grimaced. “No. I don’t care for spirits except on the rare occasion.”

She nodded, taking another bite of her egg. “I can accept those terms if all you have said is true.”

He didn’t respond for several seconds, so long that she shifted in her seat as she looked at him. What was he not saying?

His jaw worked, a muscle ticcing in his cheek and then he stood. “Excellent. Since you did me the kindness of cooking, allow me to clear the mess.”

She blinked, surprised. Her father would never make such an offer and she relaxed. He appeared to be a far nicer man than the one who raised her, and if that was the truth, she really was lucky.

“Can I ask you a question?” She stood too, then followed him into the kitchen.

“Go on.” He removed his waistcoat and began rolling up his sleeves. She noted the strength evident in those arms. Even in the simple act of washing dishes, his muscles rippled.

“Will you,” she hesitated as she watched him wipe out the cast iron pan she’d used for cooking. “Will you bear some affection for me?”

He stilled, and setting the pan down, turned toward her. “I will bear all the affection a man feels for the woman and children who are in his charge. I’ll care for you, see you fed, clothed, you’ll be given pin money, and I’ll allow no one to hurt you ever.”

She nodded, then, her hands pressing her hands to her stomach. “Then I am content.”

“Good,” he grunted, returning to the pan. “I shall bring in water to heat for a bath for you. I can see you keep your clothes very clean despite their wear, but tomorrow we’ll replace them.”

A bath sounded lovely. This morning had left her feeling…dirty. “I can bring the water in.”

He looked back at her again, this time giving her a genuine smile. “These are the sort of things you’ll have to get used to someone doing for you.”

That sent a little trill of hope racing down her spine. “I shall try my very best.”

He chuckled. “Good.”

He finished washing the plates and then, after wiping his hands, grabbed two empty buckets. “I shall be right back, my lady.”

With a tentative nod, she leaned in the doorway, watching out the window as he stepped into the yard and worked the water pump, filling both the buckets with water.

His arms moved with an ease that nearly left her breathless. She wished, as she had many times this last week, that her mother was still alive. So much would be different. But even more importantly, she needed to ask someone what she’d just agreed to with a man she didn’t know.

* * *

The day passed in awkward comfort.

The cottage was quiet, warm, and cozy. Austin hadn’t sat like this, in quiet companionship, in years. But the woman who occupied it with him was…distracting.

How in the bloody hell was he going to keep his hands to himself? What man would he be if he didn’t?

He should have married some unattractive society chit. One with whom he’d have no problem entering into a passionless bargain.

But Gabriella…she was the last woman he wanted to leave alone.

Even now, he wanted to press her against him again. He’d been replaying the feel of her in his arms in the carriage over and over until he ached with the memory of it.

And by ache, he referred to the appendage between his legs that had been hard as granite all day.

He rumbled with dissatisfaction. He needed to run until he pushed his lungs to exhaustion. Or perhaps he would pull up on a bar until his arms ached from the effort. Mayhap both.

Then he could wear out his body, keep careful track of his lung power, and collapse into bed too tired to think any more about the feel of Gabriella’s curves pressed against him.

The problem…there was only one bed in this place. The one he’d share with her.

His teeth clenched and she looked over at him. She’d curled up with a book she’d found in the cottage, looking as content as a cat who’d been given a saucer of milk.

But she sensed his tension. He knew that she did, and she shifted.

He scrubbed his jaw, not at all surprised she was sensitive to his shifts in mood. She likely had to be, to grow up the way she had, with a man like her father. And he didn’t intend to make her uncomfortable. Austin was just struggling with the decisions he’d made in haste this morning.

Though he couldn’t quite regret saving her…

“Would you mind if I stepped out for a bit? I saw a pile of wood that needs splitting and I’d like to repay Chad for his hospitality.”

“Chad?” she asked, leaning forward. “The Baron of Blackwater?”

“Yes,” he answered.

“He must be a very good friend for the two of you to be so familiar.”

“I suppose he is,” Austin said as he stood.

“Does he call you by your given name?”

He frowned. “I don’t know that he does.”

She stood too, her hands folding. “It’s just that I…” She took a half step closer and he caught a whiff of her scent. Lavender, from the soap she’d used. He drew in a deep breath, wanting more of her, of her smell. “I don’t know your given name. Or what to call you, precisely.”

Austin could have smacked his own face. How had he overlooked that detail? “My name is Austin.”

“Austin,” she tested the name giving him a warm grin. “I like that name. Austin and Gabriella.”

The sound of their two names joined together made his hand tighten into fists as he resisted the urge to pull her close.

“I’m glad.” He took a step back. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be just outside.”

But an