Read Online Heart of the Storm by Mary Burton - Free Book Online Page A

and Peter had never waited on her once.
    She stood next to the chair. “Can I help with anything?”
    “Sit.” He filled a white plate with a hefty portion of eggs and bacon. “Do you drink coffee?”
    Tea was more her to her tastes, but she’d never have said so. Then again she stopped herself. She wasn’t going to be afraid to ask anymore. “Do you have tea?”
    To her surprise he nodded. “Coming right up.”
    Minutes later he set a basket of muffins and then a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her along with a mug of tea. The food smelled delicious. She took a bite. It tasted even better. “I’ve never known a man to cook.”
    He shrugged as he ladled more food onto another plate. “The muffins are Ida’s. As to the rest, if a man out here wants to eat, he learns to cook.”
    “Most of the men I know have servants to wait on them.”
    He grinned. His entire face softened and he looked doubly handsome. He set a plate of eggs down at his place.
    “I’m not like the men you’re used to.”
    An unfamiliar sensation warmed her body. Ben Mitchell was nothing like the city men with their silk vests and uncalloused hands. The keeper possessed an earthy masculinity that made her very aware she was a woman.
    “No, I suppose you’re not.”
    He sat at his own plate. “Eat.”
    She started to eat and was pleasantly surprised to discover the food was good. “Where’d you learn to cook?”
    “Ida mostly. She and my uncle raised me after my folks died.”
    She was very curious about him. “I’ve not met your uncle.”
    “He died five years ago. His heart failed.”
    Ben’s somber tone spoke to his sadness. Her father had been dead just over a year. However, there wasn’t any great sadness, only a lingering regret that they’d never been close.
    For a moment she didn’t speak. “So you’ve lived here all your life, Mr. Mitchell?”
    “Barring my years in the Navy, yes.” A lock of hair swept down over his forehead. “We spent a night together naked and in each other arms, Rachel. I think you can call me Ben.”
    A wave of heat washed over her and it had nothing to do with the fever she’d had. He possessed a seductive, rugged quality that made her knees weak. “I don’t think that’s proper.”
    He grinned, leaning toward her. “Rachel, you left proper behind when you boarded the Anna St. Claire. ”
    He was right. She’d left everything behind the day she’d boarded that ship. “All right, B-Ben.”
    Ben glanced up toward the ceiling. “Doesn’t look like there’s a bolt of lightening headed your way.”
    She followed his gaze. “I don’t understand.”
    Laughter danced in his eyes. “I’ll bet your nurse-maids and teachers told you the heavens would strike you down if you broke the rules of etiquette.”
    She couldn’t resist a smile. “Actually, there were gremlins in the night that took care of naughty girls.”
    He lifted an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
    “Quite. Mrs. Wentworth, she ran my boarding school, went into great detail about the monsters waiting for bad little girls.”
    The humor vanished from his eyes. “That’s awful.”
    “And effective.” She’d not thought of Mrs. Wentworth in years. “We called her Mama Hippo behind her back.”
    He grinned. “Good for you.”
    She felt herself relaxing. She sipped her tea. “How long were you in the Navy?”
    “Twelve years.”
    Rachel broke off a bite-size piece of crisp bacon. “And you just quit and came back here?”
    Tension tightened his shoulders. “I had good reasons.”
    “I didn’t mean to pry, Mr. Mitchell.”
    “Ben.”
    The back door banked open and Timothy walked in. Rachel sat straighter, her defenses up again. He shrugged off his coat. “You’re up,” he said to Rachel. “Good to see it. Thought we were going to lose you there at first.”
    Rachel glanced at Ben. He frowned at the boy. “I remember being cold.”
    “Cold,” Timothy said. “Lady, you were blue.”
    “Boy, make yourself a plate