Page 47 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl

Her stance widened and he pressed his knee into the space, aware of her body arching into him.

Moments passed in deep sighs and heat.

He found the doorknob behind her and turned, kicking open the door with his foot, backing her into the room.

He raised his head, looking for... Reason came flooding back. He drew back a little, staring down into her face. Dazed eyes full of sensual promise gazed back at him.

‘Oh, my,’ she said.

Overcome by a strong desire to kiss her again, he closed his eyes briefly. He needed to take this slowly. She was, above everything else, a lady. An unmarried one at that. If he rushed his fences now, she would run like a startled hare.

He drew in one or two deep breaths, smiling down at her. ‘The perfect end to a perfect evening. Now I will bid you goodnight.’

‘I... Yes. Goodnight,’ she said, in barely more than a whisper.

Chapter Eight

When Pamela brought the teapot into the servants’ hall the following morning, she stopped short on the threshold when she realised Dart had arrived and was already tucking into the scrambled eggs she’d prepared earlier, along with a slice of toast and some rashers of bacon. A book lay open beside his plate.

The sight of him was almost enough to make her regret her decision of the previous evening. The morning light from the high windows cast his face into chiselled relief, like that of a sculpture. His lithe elegant figure encased in forest green was a delight to the eye.

Her pulse quickened. While last night she had been determined to resist his allure, this morning, apparently, she was having trouble dredging up one reason why she should. She was no innocent miss with prospects of making a good marriage. Who would know what she did tucked away in the countryside?

Not that she should read much into that kiss. While delicious and enticing, it had been all too brief. He had withdrawn so swiftly she had the feeling he regretted it. Or perhaps—a flush of shame rose up from her chest—he thought, like Alan, that based on her responses she was unnaturally lascivious.

The memory of Alan’s faint air of distaste stung her anew. Never again would she show that side of herself and leave herself open to mockery.

She pasted a cool smile on her face and strode in.

He glanced up from his reading. ‘Good morning, Pamela.’

She jumped at the sound of her given name on his lips. It sounded so warm and friendly. She should never have agreed he might use her given name when they were alone. ‘Good morning, Damian.’

Strangely, she liked the way his name rolled off her tongue.

She poured tea for them both, filled her plate and sat down. It was then that she noticed the dog on his other side. It wasn’t begging exactly, but it did have a hopeful look in its eye.

‘We have a guest for breakfast,’ she said lightly.

‘This animal has not a scrap of good manners,’ Damian said. ‘I will be glad when I find its true owner.’

The dog was probably not going to be happy if that occurred.

They ate breakfast in silence, she sipping her tea and mentally planning menus and a list to send to the butcher as a means of blocking out thoughts about how handsome he looked freshly shaved and the way his hair gleamed beneath the candlelight, while he read his book.

Surprisingly, the silence was perfectly comfortable. Not a scrap of awkwardness.

And not a sly look in sight.

He closed his book and finished his tea. ‘Do you have an answer for me?’

Right up until that moment she had not been sure what she would say to his offer of a partnership, but his calm businesslike demeanour had helped her make up her mind. ‘Yes. Thank you. I would like to accept your offer of a partnership.’

‘Excellent.’ He rose and held out his hand. ‘Welcome to the business. I will have the papers drawn up at once.’

‘There is just one thing before I shake hands on it,’ she said.

His gaze sharpened. ‘What, pray?’