The Highborn Housekeeper. Sarah Mallory

another glass of wine with him, but then what? There was only one way the evening would end if she showed such a preference for his company. And though her body might cry out for relief from the longing that disturbed her nights, Gabriel Shaw was too charming, too attractive, and she feared she might grow too attached to him. She would not risk her heart for a moment’s pleasure. She walked out, closing the door quietly behind her, and kept walking until she had reached the safety of her bedchamber, where she resolutely turned the key in the lock.

      * * *

      Gabriel watched Nancy leave the room. She was a tall woman and built on queenly lines, but she moved with an almost liquid grace that made him long to see her in a ballroom. He poured himself a measure of brandy and sipped it, his mind filled with the agreeable image of Nancy gliding across the dance floor, the skirts of her gown shimmering in the candlelight as they swayed about her hips.

      A line of poetry came into his head and he murmured it aloud.

      ‘“How sweetly flows that liquefaction of her clothes!” Who wrote that? Herrick, of course.’ He bethought him of another line from Herrick, this time writing of Julia’s breasts.

       Between whose glories there my lips I’ll lay.

      With something that was almost a growl he shook off his reverie.

      ‘Confound it, such thoughts will do me no good at all!’

      Finishing his brandy, he pushed himself to his feet and made for the door.

      * * *

      Nancy lay in her bed, her head, her whole body buzzing. She was not in the least sleepy and wished she had been able to stay talking with Gabriel into the early hours. It had been years since she had enjoyed a man’s company so much and the thought set alarm bells ringing. He roused in her a longing for more than just conversation. She wanted to touch him, to feel his arms about her. To assuage the terrible loneliness that she had barely acknowledged until now. Over the years she had learned to protect herself where men were concerned. A single woman could not afford the luxury of letting down her guard. Only once had she lost her heart and she knew the pain of loving a man who could never be hers. She would not risk that again.

      She tensed, clenching her hands at her sides. She had her work and her friends at Prospect House, was that not enough? The traitorous voice inside told her no. She wanted a man’s touch, a man’s kiss. But it was not just the physical need that alarmed her. She felt, nay, she was certain, that if circumstances had been different, Gabriel Shaw could have been a friend. Someone to laugh with, to share jokes. To share worries.

      Impatiently she rolled on to her side. Heavens, what was happening to her? She was far too old for such a foolish infatuation. But when she was with Gabriel she felt giddy and reckless, ready to throw her cap over the windmill. With a sigh she sat up and turned her pillow. Oh, this would never do. Her friends at Prospect House relied upon her for her good sense and here she was behaving like a schoolgirl, losing her head over an attractive man about whom she knew nothing. Less than nothing.

      She remembered her father’s housekeeper, Mrs Crauford, saying ‘Handsome is as handsome does’ and she must keep that in mind, because Gabriel was most definitely handsome. She felt a sigh building and fought it back, determined to be sensible. If Gabriel had indeed been left to perish by his enemies it might make him a victim, but it did not mean he was a good or an honest man. That remained to be seen.

      She settled down again, snuggling her hand against her cheek. Relaxed and warm within the comfort of her bed and with the door securely locked, she allowed her thoughts to wander freely. There was no denying Gabriel was very attractive, with his dark hair and charming smile, and those eyes... She took a moment to consider his eyes. They were as blue as the borage flowers she used to decorate her salads and when he looked at her, just so, it felt as if his glance was piercing her very soul. Yes, even with the fading remains of that bruise upon his cheek he was handsome enough to turn a girl’s head. Lucky then, she thought sleepily, that she was no longer a girl...

       Chapter Five

      ‘Wind got up last night, Miss Nancy. William Coachman says nothing will be moving by road for a while yet.’

      From the cosy comfort of her bed, Nancy heard Hester’s news with a sinking heart. She had spent a restless night, dreaming of Gabriel, holding him, kissing him. Waking with her body burning and aching for his touch. She had crawled out of bed to unlock her door, and by the time Hester came in with her morning tea and hot water, she had decided that the less time she spent in Gabriel’s company the better for her peace of mind. Before climbing into bed, she had peeped out of the window. The snow had stopped and she had thought it felt a little warmer, giving rise to the hope that a thaw might set in. The news that she must remain longer at Dell House was a blow. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. Outside the first glimmer of dawn was painting the sky a dull rose.

      ‘Can we not push through any drifts and at least make our way back to Tuxford?’ Suddenly almost anywhere seemed better than remaining in the same house as Gabriel Shaw.

      ‘Aye, we might do that on the lane, but William has just come in after walking Darlton way and said the roads in every direction are blocked.’ Hester picked up the poker and began to rake over the ashes. ‘Looks like we shall be obliged to remain here for a few more days yet, ma’am.’

      ‘Well, what cannot be cured must be endured.’ Nancy threw back the covers and slipped out of bed. The floor struck chill even through the thick rug under her feet. ‘Don’t bother with the fire, Hester, I will wash quickly and join you in the kitchen as soon as I am dressed.’

      ‘Work,’ she said to herself as she splashed the warm water on her face. ‘There is plenty of work to be done in the kitchen and that will keep me out of Gabriel’s way.’

      * * *

      But she had reckoned without the attraction of a warm room and the delicious smell of baking that drew everyone into the kitchen at noon. William had already come in from the stables and was enjoying a plate of bread, cheese and onion which he declared would keep him going until dinner time, while John Thoresby had persuaded Hester to cut him a slice of the game pie left over from yesterday. The room was redolent with the scent of lemon and spices by the time Gabriel appeared, looking so impossibly handsome that Nancy’s heart gave a little skip. He came in wearing breeches and top boots with the full sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose muscled forearms.

      Nancy was standing over the mixing bowl, the ingredients for a cake spread out on the table before her. Frowning, she bent her head and gave her attention to beating together the flour, eggs and sugar. It was easy to ignore the banter going on between Hester and John Thoresby, and William was happily ensconced in a chair by the range, lost in his own thoughts. Gabriel, however, after helping himself to a slice of pie, eased himself on to the bench across the table from Nancy, determined to talk.

      ‘You slept well, I hope, madam?’

      ‘Perfectly, sir.’ A lie, but what was one supposed to say? ‘You are well enough to work out of doors, I see.’

      He grimaced. ‘A few logs and I was done. I must content myself with chopping kindling. Which reminds me, John tells me the coal scuttle in your room did not require filling this morning. I hope you are not skimping on your own comforts. I assure you we have plenty of fuel.’

      ‘I prefer a cool bedchamber.’

      ‘That may be, but in this extreme weather a room can become icy in no time. I would not have you catch a chill when you retire tonight.’

      The words were perfectly innocent, but his deep voice conjured images at once shocking and enticing. Nancy pictured herself lying with Gabriel before the roaring fire, their naked bodies pressed together as they shared long, lingering kisses. She bent her head and beat the cake mixture even harder, trying to ignore the thrumming of hot blood through her veins.

      ‘I am not such a poor