Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Midnight

J onathan tossed and turned over and over in his bed—until he finally rolled and opened his pocket watch. The watch showed it was midnight. “Great,” he muttered, placing it back on the nightstand. He glared at the ceiling. “Another night when I can’t sleep.” It never failed. When something stressful plagued his thoughts, sleep evaded him. He thought that once he turned in Talbot and was no longer taking on missions for the Crown, these sleepless nights would end. But this time, it wasn’t a mission that had him restless, it was Melanie. He couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that something more was amiss. If something happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.

When he was a child, his mama made him warm milk when he couldn’t sleep. Maybe that would work. He wasn’t in an inn or other temporary lodging where gaining access to milk in the middle of the night would be a challenge. He was at Rochester’s manor home. A grin spread across his face as he swung his legs over the side of the bed and slipped into his slippers. He figured there might be other treats in the kitchen to enjoy along with his milk. After throwing on his banyan, he headed downstairs.

He saw a light glowing from the kitchen as he approached, along with the clinking of pots and pans. Could Cook be up late preparing for Lady Rochester’s birthday celebration? He slowed as he approached the door. Since he was here, he might as well get a cup of warm milk.

As he stepped into the room, the sight before him took him by surprise. Melanie was leaning over the wooden table, her hands industriously working a ball of dough, flour dusting her cheeks and hair like a whimsical mask. She glanced up, a surprised look breaking through the white cloud that enveloped her. She looked adorable.

“Have you secretly taken over the kitchen?” he asked, his voice thick with laughter. He never expected to find her here, immersed in such a domestic task. “Should we be concerned that you’re endeavoring to compete with Cook’s culinary prowess?”

“I wouldn’t dream of competing with Cook.” She giggled. “What are you doing here?”

“You first,” he said, momentarily distracted by the warmth in her velvety brown eyes and the sweetness of her smile.

“I just had an urge to bake. When I lived in Scotland, I learned how to cook. At first, it was just a distraction, but I found I enjoyed it—especially baking.”

“You…bake?” he asked, surprised.

“I do,” she said, smiling at him. “Nothing elaborate, mind you. But our cook in Scotland thought every woman should know how to make a few basic things. I loved making biscuits.”

He nodded thoughtfully at the lump of dough resting on the countertop. “Is that what you’re making?” he asked.

She looked down at the dough with a hint of pride and anticipation. “This? I hope it’ll taste like shortbread. It was the very first recipe Cook taught me,” she said, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and leaving another puff of flour on her cheek. “I thought it would be the easiest thing to make. After all, there are only a few ingredients…flour, butter, sugar, and salt.”

“Salt…in biscuits? That seems counterintuitive,” he remarked, arching an eyebrow in playful skepticism. Of course, he understood the reasoning behind it, but in this quiet moment, without anyone else around, he wanted to draw her out, to see her light up with her knowledge and enthusiasm.

As she smiled up at him, he felt a rush of joy. He had longed to spend time with her alone, savoring the intimacy of a stolen moment—knowing there was no one watching from a window or even a dog to worry about.

His gaze lingered on her appearance—her long, auburn braid cascading over her shoulder, with soft curls escaping to frame her face. Her large, doe-like eyes sparkled with mirth, crinkling at the corners in a way that made his heart do a series of somersaults. At that moment, he found it hard to concentrate on anything other than the warmth of her smile and the fullness of her rosy lips that beckoned to be kissed…

“Arf!” A sharp, look-at-me bark sounded.

Surprised, Jonathan looked down and spied Shep’s fluffy white head peeking from beneath her robe.

“Hello, Shep,” he said, reaching down and petting the small white dog. “So, we don’t have to fear anyone accusing you of being with me unchaperoned.” He laughed.

A pretty blush stained her cheeks. “No, I think Grandmama would approve.”

Her tinkling laughter danced through the air, reminding him of the delicate notes of his mother’s favorite windchime, each sound soft and enticing, lovely. It was a sound that conjured images of sparkling fairies, their joyous giggles floating on the breeze—a reminder of the warmth and comfort of his mother.

“Salt helps the biscuits brown and balances out the sweetness,” she said. “But you still haven’t told me.”

“Told you what?” he asked, trying to focus on what she was saying instead of how much he wanted to kiss her.

“Why you’re down here. At midnight,” she persisted, smiling.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I couldn’t sleep, and my mother used to give me a cup of warm milk when I was a boy when I couldn’t sleep. It always worked. Thought I’d give it a try.”

“That sounds like a good idea. Maybe I’ll have some, too. I’ll warm up some milk and finish this batch of shortbread.”

“So, why couldn’t you sleep?” she asked, realizing she was pressing for a response. She’d had trouble sleeping as well. Because of him. Thoughts of Jonathan had invaded her dreams. She’d lain in bed, staring up at the canopy for hours while Shep cuddled on her pillow and Smoot rolled up in his basket and were both snoring away. Everyone was asleep…except her.

Frustrated, she headed to the kitchen to bake. She was beyond curious as to why he couldn’t sleep.

“Truthfully,” he started, his voice barely above a whisper. “You were on my mind.”

Had she heard correctly? “You said you had me on your mind? What were you thinking about?” She felt breathless as she anticipated his answer.

“About you…our walk. And whether I would have the opportunity to be alone with you again…because if I did, I wouldn’t waste it.”

“Wouldn’t waste it? What do you mean?” she asked, her voice betraying both hope and disbelief.

“That I wouldn’t waste the opportunity to kiss you,” he finally said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

It felt like a thousand butterflies were fluttering around in her stomach. How did they both get here? She’d so wanted him to kiss her at the pond after he rescued the fawn. But instead, he reached for her hand. At the time, she couldn’t help but wonder if he still saw her as the girl that he’d rescued time and time again but who could never be anything more than his best friend’s little sister.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. She’d been restless, and with sleep eluding her, Melanie had decided to do some baking. Baking always relaxed her and soothed her nerves. But then, just as she was in the middle of mixing the shortbread, Jonathan surprised her by strolling into the kitchen and telling her he couldn’t sleep and then admitting he’d wanted to kiss her by the pond.

Kiss her! By the pond!

Knowing he wanted to kiss her—something that had driven him to a cold kitchen in the middle of the night was a complete surprise.

What should she do now?

Should she wipe her hands on her apron?

Oh, goodness, what must she look like? She must have flour on her face. Her hair had begun to become loose from her braid. What if Shep barked…or something ? She glanced to the side of the room and watched Shep lift his head and then trot over to the fireplace. A second later, he was curled up in front of the cozy fire that she’d lit to warm up the kitchen.

“You w…wanted to kiss me?”

“Yes. I still do,” he said, closing the distance between them.

He still does. Oh goodness.

She wanted him to kiss her. So much. She’d dreamed about Jonathan kissing her. So many times. And here he was telling her the same thing. Should she let this happen? What if this was her only chance to kiss him? Would she ever get another chance again?

“Melanie…” he said softly.

“Yes?” Oh my! The intensity in his gaze mesmerized her. She was certain another thousand butterflies just joined their friends fluttering in her stomach.

“You look so adorable; I don’t think I can help myself.” He drew a breath. “Would you mind if I kissed you?” His voice was low and tentative.

A kiss. It was what she’d dreamed about for years. Forever. Her first kiss. With Jonathan… Would he realize that it was her first kiss? Would it be as she had imagined a million different times?

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

“Yes, you would mind?” he asked, his lips curving up in a crooked grin.

“No, I mean, yes, I would like that,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she nodded, feeling her breath hitch in her throat . Should I stand up on my tiptoes? Close my eyes? Pucker? Take deep breaths to steady my nerves. Then, a memory sparked in her mind—a scene from a gothic book where the dashing hero instructed his lady to relax and simply follow his lead. Yes, that was the key . Relaxing was crucial. She would be mortified if she ruined her first kiss. Her heart hammered so loudly that she was certain he could hear it echoing in the silence that surrounded them.

She felt beads of perspiration begin to form on her forehead, glistening in the dim candlelight as she wrestled with her swirling thoughts and emotions.

Candlelight glowed around them, casting the room in a magical light as he leaned down to kiss her. It was slow and unhurried—as if they had the entire night ahead of them. Her eyes fluttered closed. And she breathed a deep sigh as he kissed her nose and then the lids of her eyes, warm caresses that made her tingle down to her toes. The feel of his warm breath on her cheek made her shiver. How could warmth make her shiver? His hand slid to her waist, steadying her, while the other cupped her cheek. She sighed as she leaned into his featherlight touch, nuzzling her cheek against his hand, she heard his intake of breath.

“Melanie,” he said in a raspy voice.

Was he feeling the same feelings that she was?

When their lips finally met, it was soft and gentle, sending another tingle of heat through her. And then the kiss changed. His tongue began coaxing her lips open. And she did open for him like a flower opened its petals toward the sun, allowing him to explore the depths of her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but this moment. Jonathan’s sensual lips were on hers. His tongue teasing hers, making her want so much more… When he finally pulled back and broke the kiss, she felt dizzy with wonder. Melanie knew she would remember this kiss for the rest of her life.