Edwina bit back her own smile. “Very sound reasoning, my lord. I must get back to work promptly if I am to finish.”
“I also have a decent bottle of whiskey in my study should you tire of brandy”—the words, low and deep, sent a vibration across her skin—“or require comfort at a later time.” Bascomb’s gaze dropped to her mouth. His jaw tilted in her direction.
The lovely, buttery sensation from earlier spilled once again down the length of Edwina’s body, causing her to arch, just slightly, in his direction. Did Bascomb mean to kiss her? It certainly seemed—
Instead, he slowly released her arm, eyes still on her mouth as if he was fascinated by her lips, but there was also wariness. “Carry on, Collins,” he said in a harsh tone before stepping away, putting a more appropriate distance between them. “And stay away from the bookcases until I can have this all cleaned up.”
“Of course, my lord,” she replied, watching as he shut the door behind him.
Edwina sat back down at the desk, heart beating wildly. It was unwise to become involved with one’s employer. The idea was far more terrifying than being nearly crushed by a bookcase. Edwina doubted any encounter with Bascomb would end with only a kiss.
She took up the ledger once more and reached for the stack of receipts from Jeffers she’d been studying when the bookcase fell. The space was bare.
Looking down, she checked the floor, but there was nothing except a slight wet spot from where Meg had mopped up the tea.
The receipts were gone.
Chapter Eight
On Edwina’s fourthday at Rose Abbey, the rain finally slowed to a misty drizzle. The sky remained overcast, with only a bare hint of gray light seeping through the clouds. Edwina had slept well the previous night, as she had every night since the incident in the library. Nothing disturbed her. Well, if one didn’t count the highly erotic dreams Edwina was having about Bascomb. Naked, wicked images of them together, his big hands roaming over her body. She’d awoken this morning flushed and aroused, the space between her thighs aching.
Making her way to the breakfast room, Edwina was unsurprised to find Bascomb enjoying his usual large breakfast. What did surprise her was that he was in the breakfast room at all. He’d not been present yesterday, and Edwina had eaten alone. She’d thought it likely his avoidance of her had something to do with the kiss they’d very nearly shared. Wise of him.
An enormous plate of scrambled eggs sat before Bascomb, two thick slices of ham hanging off the edge of his plate. His gray-green eyes trailed over Edwina in annoyance.
“The rain has nearly stopped,” he grumbled, pointing the fork at the window. “Hope you haven’t unpacked, Collins.”
Not much of a greeting. She would have preferred a cheery good morning. “Of course not, my lord.” Edwina sipped her tea. “Perish the thought. I’m ready to leave at a moment’s notice.”
Her employer made a noncommittal grunt, scowling at her from across the table.
Edwina lifted her chin. “Is there something else, my lord?”
He cleared his throat and looked down at his eggs. Small touches of pink shone on the curves of his cheeks. “Are you well this morning? I was busy yesterday and didn’t—”
“Very well, my lord,” she interrupted.
Bascomb raised his eyes back to her. The green was more pronounced today. The color of leaves at the first sign of spring. “I’ve been busy making repairs in the east wing. Water leaks have sprouted in nearly every room. I’ve not had time to check on your progress.”
“Everything is well in hand,” she assured him.
They stared at each other for a moment, long enough for warmth to crawl between Edwina’s breasts and settle low in her belly.
“Thomas will put the library back to rights once he’s finished helping me, Collins.” Bascomb stood, rather abruptly, and laid down his napkin. Longing flashed briefly in the depths of green, and Edwina did not think it was for more eggs. “You should get to work. Be…careful, Collins.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Edwina sipped her tea and picked absently at a piece of toast as the sound of his footsteps faded. Once the room grew silent again, she made her way to the library, balancing the cup of tea in her hand. She wasn’t at all sure how to handle the attraction between them, and apparently, neither did Bascomb. Yes, she was physically drawn to him, but Edwina also found she liked Bascomb. Quite a bit.
Settling in at her desk, Edwina shuffled the papers, searching through the desk drawers again for the receipts from Jeffers. The other day, after the bookcase had fallen and she’d comforted herself with brandy, Edwina had thought she’d only misplaced the small pile. Tucked it in a drawer when the bookcase fell and didn’t recall doing so. She’d been so shaken by the incident anything was possible. The last day or so, she’d focused on answering correspondence and organizing the remainder of Bascomb’s receipts. But this morning, as the toes of her half boots hit the bottom of the desk, it occurred to Edwina she hadn’t lookedthere.
Getting on her hands and knees, Edwina looked at the space between the floor and the bottom of the desk. Large enough for papers to flutter under. Reaching beneath the desk, she wiggled her fingers about for a slip of paper.
Mrs. Page certainly wasn’t doing her due diligence in the library. The floor under the desk was thick with dust.
As she withdrew her hand in frustration, Edwina’s fingers stuck on something damp. She pulled back her hand with a frown. Aleaf. More correctly, the leaf of a rosebush. Still wet, with a bit of mud on the edge. Edwina sat back on the rug, staring at the leaf.
How did this get in here?She looked up at the large windows, all firmly latched. She wasn’t even sure theycouldopen. Had one of the panes broken during the storm?
