Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

The kitchen was a disaster. The carnage only appeared worse because the flour had exploded when Kate accidentally knocked it over on the worktable. And since, it had worked itself somehow onto every surface of the kitchen.

Kate pressed her sore knuckles into the dough, then folded it in half, repeating the motion. It had been hours, and yet not one version had baked properly.

Oscar whimpered from his spot in the corner beside the fireplace.

“I’ll clean it up,” she said, folding over the dough and giving it a satisfying punch. It was easier if she pretended it was Gabriel’s handsome face.

Picking her up over his shoulder as if she were no more than a sack of… well, flour.

She laughed to herself.

What a mess.

Everything.

This kitchen, this evening, her life.

It all had seemed much easier before she had fallen for the marquess. She froze, clamping her eyes shut to take note that she must tell the girls the risks of falling for such a man. Her mother had never.

It helped of course that he was titled.

“What happened?” a voice asked from the doorway.

Not a voice, his voice.

Gabriel’s voice.

She could listen to that warm Scottish burr for hours. Not that she ever had a chance. He forever seemed to be trudging off to his office or into the village. No matter, it was downright wrong for a man to look so undeniably good filling up her doorway.

“I am baking.”

“The kitchen is covered in flour.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. And since his shirtsleeves were rolled, exposing his wonderfully toned forearms, she punched the dough again for fear she would open her mouth and ask him to kiss her.

“I will clean it up.”

He grunted. She kept her eyes trained on the dough, feeling his eyes on her. His gaze felt more like a burning touch, yet he hadn’t moved an inch from holding up that doorway.

“Why are ye baking?”

Kate ignored him, sighing instead. She must focus. She wasn’t sure she could handle another batch failing as spectacularly as the others had. First the shortbread, then the tea cakes, and the sponge cake for the Whim Wham.

“Your sister-in-law made them, correct?”

Gabriel didn’t move. She only caught his nod as she glanced up. He hadn’t grown less attractive, unfortunately. And her annoying desire to kiss his mouth and discover what he tasted like hadn’t lessened. So overall, the night was a complete disaster.

“That doesna explain why ye’re attemptin’ to bake”—he glanced around at the work surfaces piled with dirty pans and finished batches of desserts—”every dessert kent to a Scottish man.”

She absolutely hated how the later hours of the evening brought around a less polished version of Gabriel. Of how his voice was rougher, the accent thicker, his eyes more honest than whatever it was he hid behind during the day.

“Good, I haven’t forgotten any then.”

“Kate.”

She slammed her hand down into the dough and sputtered as a cloud of flour puffed upward. “I have a lot to do right now,” she said, wiping her face.

But the edge of her anger faded as soon as his chuckle vibrated off the stone walls of the old castle kitchen. Gabriel was a cup of tea after a bad day, a warm blanket stealing away the evening’s chill, the bite of the whisky he was giving his life over to.

He was warmth… and temptation.

She had been hired as a governess, not to carry on some silly flirtation with a man who would only break her heart. But she was lonely, and perhaps there was some small sliver of a chance that she could hope herself worthy of being wanted.

Kate glanced up and blew a black curl away from her face. “Don’t say anything,” she cautioned.

He pushed off from the doorway and stalked closer. There was something to be said for a man who could toss you over his shoulder.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory. It wasn’t as if she had forgotten. It had played over and over in her mind all day since that swan bit Gabriel…

“How’s your bottom?”

He put on the kettle and scoffed. “My arse is fine. I wasna concerned.”

“You can keep telling yourself that, but I saw you try to outrun that swan.”

“Never met a fowl I hated more.” He picked up one of the discarded tarts and took a large bite.

She turned toward him fully, crossing her arms and fighting off a laugh. “I was missing something from that batch. Sour milk, I believe.”

He nodded, wriggling his eyebrows as he struggled to chew the thick crust.

“How long have ye been attempting to bake for? ”

She grabbed a handful of flour and tossed it at his shirt. Instead of driving him away, it drew him closer.

“Since the girls went to bed.”

He checked the timepiece in his vest, then snapped it shut. “That was nearly six hours ago if they went to bed when they were supposed to.”

“They miss their parents. And I thought…”

He stood beside her, his large hands braced on the flour-covered work surface. Kate had always been the tall friend, and she had towered over her brothers. Most days, she hated her height and how it made her less dainty or whatever it was that London debutantes were praised for. So to stand beside this gentle giant, there was comfort there.

And she felt at ease.

“They were terrible today, Gabriel, and I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought, if I could bake them a treat like their mother would have, it would help. However silly that is…”

Her voice trailed off as his hand reached out and bumped under her chin, drawing her attention up to his eyes. Fierce eyes, yet patient and warm.

She could fall into them and the wave of peace that washed over her after such a long day. Knowing that if she fell, he would be there in the doorway, waiting to help. Even if he didn’t say as much. Even though his world seemed far busier than hers.

“Can I show ye the secret to good shortbread?”

She licked her lips, her attention still drawn to his handsome face. Her chest felt full, and suddenly she was a little dizzy and warm. Perhaps it was because she had been baking for so long.

“You know how to bake?”

“I ken how to make shortbread. Their mother learned from mine.”

She attempted to speak, but the words stuck. She cleared her throat and decided instead to nod. She didn’t trust herself not to muck things up further.

When he dropped his hand, she was sorry for the absence of his touch. Though it was for the best. She had given in once, and it had landed her here in this kitchen, alone with him. To fall into his embrace, to kiss him, to do anything other than mind to the girls’ education would go against her original intentions.

But that warring sense of following her heart or being cruel to herself was louder than ever standing beside Gabriel.

Kate couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch him freely, to fall into his arms, to lie there as his hands roamed over her body…

She felt the heat of her flushed cheeks and shook her head, forgetting about her flour-covered fingers.

“Wait,” he commanded as she stepped away, his voice ragged.

Kate grabbed the bowl of apple filling, best to keep her hands occupied since her mind couldn’t behave itself. The more space between them…

“What did I just eat?”

“A tart.”

Right, she set the bowl down and grabbed a plate of hard cookies, then tossed one at his chest. It predictably bounced off and skidded across the stone floor toward Oscar. The dog raised its head and smelled the cookie, then plopped its head back down to snooze.

Gabriel tilted his head, challenge blazing in his eyes. She crossed her arms, lifting her nose. Kate never said she was excellent at baking, but she enjoyed it. And tonight’s baking was more out of necessity than for pleasure.

He lifted a burned cookie in his hand, squaring off against her.

“Don’t you dare, Gabriel MacInnes!”

That only earned a smile. No, not a smile. Those were generally pleasant. This was a wicked grin, with sin hiding between his laugh lines.

He tossed the cookie at her, and she squeaked, tossing her arms up into the air to race around the work surface. She ducked down and grabbed a handful of flour, tucking herself close to the table.

Silence fell and she jumped up, tossing the flour at Gabriel, then ducking back down as he grabbed another cookie and chucked it at her .

“What are you thinking?” she asked, covering herself from the hard projectiles she had baked.

He chased her around the kitchen, tossing the discarded baked goods at her as she spun and did the same, the two of them laughing. She couldn’t stop, could barely breathe in fact as she finally paused and held up her hands in surrender.

They looked at one another, their laughs fading as their shoulders rose up and down.

“The kitchen was messy enough,” she said. “And now look at it.”

He stalked forward, want burning in those blue eyes of his, burning just as bright as the middle of a flame. Kate swallowed and backed up against the table.

“Kate,” he spoke in a whispered rasp.

She closed her eyes, feeling herself falling. Feeling as though what she was about to do would change her entire world. Could she trust herself?

“Open yer eyes, will ye?”

The heat of his body rolled off him, sweeping over her. She might as well have been standing near the hearth.

But instead of giving in, she reached back into the bowl of apple filling and slapped it against his face.

He growled and picked her up, placing her bottom on a pile of dough, and braced his hands over her cheeks, drawing her in for a kiss.

Not soft. Nothing about Gabriel MacInnes was soft.

And Kate melted into his touch, into his kiss, laughing as she tasted the apple and the feel of his tongue as it swiped across her lips to open her mouth for his. Instead of fighting, Kate surrendered, throwing her arms around his neck and mirroring his lips, allowing him to explore and taste her, sighing as desire washed over her.

This kiss…

This kiss was submission and more. It was an invitation of trouble into her life, one she gave into freely and willingly. And she hated how easily he had won her over.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she leaned into him. His hands dropped down to her waist and tugged her closer, yet he didn’t break their kiss. She was certain he felt the same want by the wild edge of his caress.

When he broke away, she leaned her forehead against his and sighed. “Please don’t run away, Gabriel.”

“I shouldna have…” He cleared his throat. “Kate, I didna mean… that shouldna…”

Finally, she raked her hand back through his hair, and he slammed his eyes shut at her touch. “I’ve been dreamin’ of ye for weeks now since ye marched into the inn. Dinna believe for an instant ye’re not wanted. I want ye. I crave ye. And a kiss willna be enough.”

She blinked up at him, her mind blank. She was certain that was the most erotic thing a man had ever said to her, and the marquess had been notoriously flirtatious.

“But that has to be enough.”

There, that had been what she was expecting. Already he was walling himself up, pushing her away.

She nodded, shoving against his chest to find enough space to slip off the tabletop.

Quietly, they cleaned the kitchen up, and Gabriel showed her how to make shortbread well into the early morning hours. And while he was polite and pleasant, she was rattled by their kiss.

Because she wanted more, and it was wrong to wish it.

But she did, almost more than anything. And that was dangerous, indeed.