A wild fluttering danced in her belly and she wanted to attribute the sensation to discomfort from their previous meeting, and yet she could not. Not without lying to herself. “My lord,” she greeted when he came to a stop several feet away. She backed up a step and his intelligent eyes took in that hasty movement.

“I expected you’d be in a temper this morning, Jane.” Expected or hoped?

She folded her arms across her chest in a protective manner to shield herself from any further weakening. “Is that why you were boorishly rude last evening, my lord?”

“I wanted to apologize,” he confessed.

“Apologize?” She furrowed her brow. Noblemen did not apologize. They took their pleasure where they willed it and hurt without thinking.

“It was wrong of me to call you bitter.”

Yet, this man, regardless of his lofty title, took ownership of his words and actions. And she preferred him as the safe, predictable lord with his censorious eyes and clipped commands. That man she could relegate alongside the other nobles she’d known before. This man she knew not what to do with.

“Will you not accept my apology?”

Yes, she supposed some response on her part was in order. Jane’s breath caught as he brushed the back of his hand along the curve of her cheek. Under the power and heat of his touch, her lashes fluttered closed. “Y-you needn’t apologize, my lord.” His had been a protective measure, and more, there had been truth to his charge. She was bitter and she detested that she’d become so consumed by her own regrets and resentments. “I a-assure you,” she whispered when he continued to run his hand along her cheek. “I would never i-impose my own thoughts or beliefs upon your sister.”

No, she’d only steal from him and lie her way into his household. God forgive her.

*

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What maddening hold did Mrs. Jane Munroe have upon him?

When he’d arisen this morning and gone through his morning’s ablutions, he’d reconciled himself to reestablishing order between him and the young woman in his employ. There would be no more private meetings or talks of their families and pasts. He would be the cool, proper marquess his father had beat him into becoming.

And his life could resume its normal course.

He let his hand fall to his side. Jane blinked as though bereft over the loss of his touch. “Before my sister returns, we should speak.” He took several steps away and then clasped his hands behind him.

A panicky fear lit her eyes. “D-do you intend to send me away?”

Again, with her almost desperate question. He frowned. He might have kissed her and violated all manner of appropriate and honorable behaviors where his staff was concerned, but he wasn’t a total bastard. “I have no intention of sending you away, Jane. You are effectively stuck with my family until Chloe is wed. At which point you will be free to return to your post at Mrs. Belden’s.” Her eyes darkened. “Or whatever other post you desire.” The muscles in his stomach went taut at that imagined, but inevitable parting.

She gave a little nod. “Thank you.”

How very polite and deferential she was. It was as though nothing else had transpired between them. He started. Which was, of course, for the best. It was the very reason he now spoke to her. Gabriel began to pace. “It occurs to me that I’ve been wholly inappropriate and improper where you are concerned.” Why was that one kiss not enough?

“Gabriel?” she cocked her head at an endearing little angle.

“We’ve spoken on matters that have little bearing on my sister,” he paused mid-stride and looked at her. “Matters that have nothing to do with your tenure here. For that I make my most humble apologies. Going forward, I pledge to honor your role on my staff.” She winced. He silently cursed at the pomposity of such a statement. His lips pulled in a grimace, as he wished not for the first time that he possessed the effortless ability to speak to and with a lady. He pressed ahead. “The kiss,” has haunted my waking and sleeping thoughts, “was a mistake,” he finished lamely as he yanked his gaze away from the hurt expression stamped on the delicate lines of her face. Except, there was nothing in her reaction that conveyed regret.




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