Never Kiss a Laird (18 page)

Rupert rose
to the occasion and reached over with one leg to kick the potato under the
table, all the while looking up at the ceiling to disguise his intent.
 

“Sorry,”
Sally murmured to Miss Riding from between gritted teeth.
 
Changing tactics, she brought the bowl close
to Clarissa’s plate and used the fork to tip a potato onto her plate.
 
Looking up with triumph, she met the Earl’s
eyes, and at the look of unholy, but sympathetic, amusement in them, her spurt
of temper died and the absurdity of the situation hit her anew.
 

Trying not
to giggle, she moved around the table to serve Rupert next, and the Earl attempted
to restart the conversation and divert attention from Sally.

“Mr. Denham
and I had formed the intention of riding around the estate tomorrow,” he said
in a voice that was only slightly unsteady.
 
“I wonder if the ladies would care to accompany us.
 
You could certainly ride in a carriage if you
would prefer that to horseback.”

Sally smiled
at him gratefully, as she tipped a potato onto Rupert’s plate.
 
James, coming behind her with the partridges,
had a wide grin on his face that he could not for the world restrain.
 
Rupert looked up at Sally, and mouthed the
word “What?” but Sally shook her head forcefully at him, and he subsided.

“That sounds
most enjoyable,” Mrs. Riding answered.
 
“Clarissa and I would love to accompany you.”
 
She was the next to be served and as Sally
awkwardly negotiated her cutlery once more, Mrs. Riding reached up and took the
spoon and fork from Sally’s hands.
 
“Give
those to me, you silly girl,” she muttered crossly, and she neatly delivered a
potato to her own plate.

Sally moved
around behind her, and as she passed behind the chair, she stuck her tongue out
at the back of Mrs. Riding’s head, causing the Earl to give a crack of
laughter.

“I’m so
pleased,” he informed his startled guests, making an admirable recovery.
 
“The weather is supposed to continue mild, so
you will be able to ride in an open carriage and see the grounds.”

Sally had
made her way to the Earl, and by now she had almost mastered the fork and spoon
trick, and she picked up a potato and neatly placed it on his plate.
 

“Finally,”
she exclaimed, drawing the eyes of all the diners back to herself, as well as
the gaze of the infuriated Mr. Carr.
 
The
Earl retreated behind his napkin once more, and James’s face split into a broad
grin.

“Really, my
lord,” Mrs. Riding shook her head.
 
“Most unusual.”

Mr. Carr stepped
forward, pausing in his task of keeping all the glasses filled, and intoned,
“You will forgive us, ma’am.
 
One of our
footmen is absent.”
 
The look he shot
towards Sally promised that this was not the last she would hear of her serving
skills, and she bobbed a curtsey and hurried from the room.

She pushed
through the green baize door, fighting a fit of giggles, and re-entered the
warmth of the kitchen.

“How did it
go, dearie,” Mrs. White called over her shoulder.
 
She was piping Sally’s whipped cream around
the base of an impressive Charlotte Russe.
 

“Pretty well,
I think,” Sally replied in hopeful accents.
 
“I did drop one potato.”

“Never mind
that now,” Mrs. White dismissed the incident, her mind already on other
matters.
 
“Mrs. Cameron has sent Mary up
to do the rooms.
 
She’ll pass the warming
pans between the sheets, and build the fires, so you won’t have to do any of
that after the meal.
 
Fortunately the
Ridings brought their own maid, so she’ll only have to unpack the gentleman’s
bags.
 
You can do the breakfast trays in
Mary’s place, so mind that you come to me first thing in the morning.
 
This lot won’t be out of bed too early,
though, so we won’t be bringing up the trays until after nine.”

James
entered the kitchen behind Sally, the grin still on his face.
  
He picked up a silver tray that held the
beautifully carved haunch of venison.
 
“Here, you take this gravy boat.
 
I don’t see how you could do much damage with that.”

Sally,
giving him a look that clearly showed that she was not amused, picked up the
little ladle, and followed him from the room.
 
This time when she entered the room, the Earl managed to keep his
countenance, and the rest of the meal passed off without incident.
 
Mr. Carr, his fury abated by the fact that
Sally dropped no further food, let her off with a mild scold after the
gentleman had finally finished their port and left to join the ladies.

“I do most
sincerely apologize, Mr. Carr,” Sally said contritely.
 

“Well,” the
very correct butler conceded.
 
“I am
grateful that you were here to help, at any rate.
 
Go on upstairs.
 
Mary should be almost finished preparing the
rooms, but she could probably use your help.”

Sally walked
down the gallery, pausing outside the door to the saloon in which the company
had assembled.
 
Miss Riding had
discovered a harp in the corner of the room, which Rupert was dragging into the
middle of the room for her.
 
Sally
watched as Clarissa settled herself in a chair and tipped the wood-inlaid
instrument towards
herself
.
 
She positioned her lovely white arms on
either side of the harp strings, and paused for a moment with her palms flat
against them, her eyes closed.
 
Then with
a graceful sweeping gesture, a scale of music filled the room, and she began
plucking at the strings.
 
Sally looked at
her brother, who was staring at the musical blonde with an infatuated look on
his face.
 
Sally then glanced over at the
Earl, who was inspecting the quizzing glass that hung from his vest pocket, a
small smile hovering over his lips.
 
A
similar smile quirked her own lips as she tiptoed quietly away, and sped up the
stairs to find Mary.

She
eventually located her through the expedient of wandering up and down the
hallway, softly calling her name.

“In here,”
Mary replied, as Sally neared the end of the hall on the second floor.
 

Sally
entered, to find Mary building up a fire in one of the guest rooms.
 
“Can I be of any assistance, Mary,” Sally
asked.

“Thank
you!”
 
Mary gasped gratefully.
 
“I have still got the gentlemen’s rooms to
do.
 
Could you build a fire in the grate
for Mr. Denham, and the Laird, and turn down the beds, and I’ll finish this and
go on to Mr. and Mrs. Riding’s rooms?
 
The firewood has been brought
up,
it just needs
to be laid.”

Sally
assented, and requested directions.
 
When
she entered the room that had been assigned to her brother, she immediately
went over to the bed and flopped down on her back on the soft mattress, arms
extended over her head.
 
Taking an
internal inventory, she realized that not only were her feet aching, her arms
were still weak from beating egg whites, and she was aware of the small of her
back in way that she never had been before.
 
She groaned and turned on her side, pulling the counterpane up around
her.
 
The lure of the feather-soft bed
was almost irresistible, but after a few minutes she resolutely pushed the
covers away and got up.
 

She laid the
fire in the hearth, a skill she had only learned since coming to
Whitethorne
cottage.
 
She straightened the covers on the bed, turning down one corner into a
neat triangle, and setting her brother’s night shirt out.
  

In her
previous life, these services would have been performed for her, not by her.
 
Sally sighed, and turned and sat on the
bed.
 
Did she regret leaving the
protection of her family?
 
If she had not
done so, she would be at her grandmother’s estate at this moment.
 
She would certainly not be expected to serve
at table, make up the fires, or beat egg whites until her arms felt like
falling off.
 
On the other hand, she
would be treated to her grandmother’s lectures, would be expected to be
repentant and accept censure.
 
She would
be bustled out of sight whenever visitors came to call, and reminded of her
disgrace daily.
 
She certainly would not
have been in a position to lose her virtue to the
most noble
Earl of Kane.
 
Sally closed her eyes and
dropped backwards onto the bed with a deeply contented sigh.
 

No, she
smiled to herself.
 
No regrets.
 
The future was very uncertain, but these
memories would sustain her through it.
 

She thought
about the blonde girl in the green dress playing the harp for the Earl
downstairs and felt a pang.
 
Would
Clarissa Riding be the next Countess of Kane?
 
She was a very beautiful girl, Sally acknowledged to herself, and
appeared to be very well-mannered.
 
Rupert certainly was enamored of her, but next to the handsome Earl,
Sally could not believe that any girl would look seriously at her brother.
 
She pictured the Earl taking the lovely
blonde girl into his arms, and her chest felt tight all of a sudden.
 
She closed her eyes tightly, covering her
face with her hands.
 
There was no way to
go back and change the past, she reminded herself.
 
Her reputation, once lost, was not
recoverable, and the Earl of Kane must have a wife with a spotless
reputation.
 
It might as well be the
beautiful Miss Riding.
 

Pulling
herself back up to a sitting position, Sally acknowledged that she was in
danger of caring too much for the Earl of Kane.
 
His dark, handsome face featured in her dreams a little too frequently,
and the desire to repeat her wanton behavior was almost overwhelming at times.
 
Having embraced the freedoms of being without
a reputation did not stop Sally from being only too aware of the drawbacks of
her situation.
 
The day that she had run
away from her home, she had also turned her back on the prospect of ever reclaiming
her reputation.
 
Sally knew that she
would never again be considered an eligible
parti
,
there would be no redeeming match in her future, a fact
that she had to accept.
 
She would no
doubt see the Earl court and marry another girl, and the thought made her feel
like she was suffocating.

Scooting off
the bed, Sally left Rupert’s room and moved down the hallway to the Earl’s
bedchamber.
 
As soon as she opened the
door she was aware of the faint, masculine scent that reminded her irresistibly
of Hugh.
 
She wandered around the room,
picking up the ivory brushes on the dressing table, and the replacing them.
 
She very competently laid a fire in the
hearth, ready just to be struck alight, and then approached the large wooden
four poster bed that dominated the room.
 
She pulled the lace edged sheet down, turning it back and smoothing the
silk coverlet into a perfect triangle, her hand caressing the satin-soft linen.
 
 

Her thoughts
were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and she spun around to see
Hugh.
 
He closed the door behind himself,
and strode forward, taking her hands in his.
 

“Miss
Denham.
 
Sally.
 
I was never more surprised in my life than
when you entered the dining room.”

“That was
pretty obvious,” Sally chuckled.
 
“I
believe you dropped your spoon.”

“I’m lucky
that’s all I did.
 
What on earth
possessed you to come here dressed as a maid?”

“I had my
reasons,” Sallie temporized.

“If I
thought it was in order to see me, I should be very pleased,” Hugh murmured,
slipping an arm around her and pulling her close.
 
His lips found the sensitive spot behind her
ear and started nibbling, and Sally felt herself starting to melt.
 

Hugh raised
his head and met her eyes.
 
“You smell
deliciously of roasted partridges and baked bread,” he told her.

“I’ve spent
most of the evening in your kitchens,” Sally explained.
 

“You must
tell me what possessed you to do such a thing,” Hugh murmured into the soft
white skin of her throat.
 
“But not just
at the moment.”
 
He straightened, and
gently pushed Sally back onto the soft bed, pressing his lips to hers.

Sally opened
her mouth to his, her senses swimming with instant desire.
 
Hugh’s tongue teased
at her
own,
and Sally slipped her arms inside the Earl’s severe black evening
coat.
 
She closed her eyes, and
surrendered to the sensations that started with his kiss but which refused to
remain sedately there.
  
The sensitive
tips of her breasts began tingling beneath the modest black stuff maid’s gown
and a sweet torment throbbed between her legs.
 
Hugh deepened his kiss, and Sally moaned aloud.