that except a harsh guttural grunt that might have been laughter, except there was no lightness in it. And when she pulled away, her heart beating in her throat, he immediately shuttered his expression and looked away.
“Mr. Frazier?” she finally said.
“My apologies. Returning to England has me more unsettled than I thought.”
“Of course, sir, but—”
“Enough, angel,” he interrupted quietly. “Just get the razor. I shall prepare the bath.”
Chapter 4
Kit poured the last of the filtered water into the large pot over the fire. The wooden tub was already half filed. Within ten minutes, he would have enough scalding water for a bath like a civilized man. Ironic that, since he had never felt less civilized.
He thought he’d put the past behind him. A slave for three years, but free for four. He’d used that time to become less of an animal, to forgive his family, and to become the man he was now. But, seeing Michael and Lily again had been hard. Then to overhear through a doorway that his mother and grandmother were dead. And finally, that Scher, sweet Scher, the love of his youth, was married to his cousin and not more than a month after his disappearance? That was a cruel cut, deep into his soul.
He told himself it didn’t matter. He had other things on his mind. Alex for one. Then the angel outside his door being opportuned by her uncle. All of these things distracted him, helped him push the pain away so he could pretend he did not ache. And it had worked for a time.
But now he was with this woman, this naive girl who spoke of sorting out his future when her own was in such disarray. He alternated between wanting to shield her from the world’s ills and wanting to shake her for her ignorance! Didn’t she know her uncle planned to have her? Didn’t she understand how used she was in this household?
Of course she did. She was not stupid. She knew her only hope was to delay her uncle and pray that she found a husband quickly. And in the meantime, she ran the household, forced her uncle to accept two strangers into his home, and still had sweetness enough to talk of his future. The depth of her goodness stunned him, overwhelmed him, and made him insane with hunger.
Good God, he wanted her beneath him, spread for him alone. He wanted to take her as a man claims a woman, and in so doing he would see if her goodness was real. He would either break it or own it, but it would be his .
Kit clenched his jaw, refusing to release his howl of fury. Was he a beast then? Was he a slave again, forced to steal any tiny scrap of joy, consuming it quickly before it disappeared? This was why he had waited so many years to return to England. He knew then that he was more animal than man, a beast that walked upright and pretended to civility. He thought four years as a free man had changed him. He thought he was ready to return now.
How wrong!
One look at Miss Madeline Wilson, and he was surging with equal parts lust and fury. It hadn’t been bad during the daylight when there were people and things to distract him. But now, alone in her kitchen? He wanted her with a hunger that frightened him. She was a gently reared lady and he would hurt her. And yet, he could not send her away. If anything, he wanted to push her, to see just how deep her sweetness went.
She was coming! He could smell her scent on the air and hear the light tread of her steps. He waited, breath suspended for her entrance. He knew the moment she appeared, and the beast inside him relished her soft squeak of alarm.
“What are you doing?”
Stripping so that she would see his scars and know him for the animal he was. That’s what he thought, but not how he answered. Instead, his mouth curved into a slightly mocking smile. “I can hardly bathe in my clothing, can I?”
Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with fright. And she had never looked more beautiful. “B-but the water isn’t ready!”
He turned to face her full on. He had yanked
“Mr. Frazier?” she finally said.
“My apologies. Returning to England has me more unsettled than I thought.”
“Of course, sir, but—”
“Enough, angel,” he interrupted quietly. “Just get the razor. I shall prepare the bath.”
Chapter 4
Kit poured the last of the filtered water into the large pot over the fire. The wooden tub was already half filed. Within ten minutes, he would have enough scalding water for a bath like a civilized man. Ironic that, since he had never felt less civilized.
He thought he’d put the past behind him. A slave for three years, but free for four. He’d used that time to become less of an animal, to forgive his family, and to become the man he was now. But, seeing Michael and Lily again had been hard. Then to overhear through a doorway that his mother and grandmother were dead. And finally, that Scher, sweet Scher, the love of his youth, was married to his cousin and not more than a month after his disappearance? That was a cruel cut, deep into his soul.
He told himself it didn’t matter. He had other things on his mind. Alex for one. Then the angel outside his door being opportuned by her uncle. All of these things distracted him, helped him push the pain away so he could pretend he did not ache. And it had worked for a time.
But now he was with this woman, this naive girl who spoke of sorting out his future when her own was in such disarray. He alternated between wanting to shield her from the world’s ills and wanting to shake her for her ignorance! Didn’t she know her uncle planned to have her? Didn’t she understand how used she was in this household?
Of course she did. She was not stupid. She knew her only hope was to delay her uncle and pray that she found a husband quickly. And in the meantime, she ran the household, forced her uncle to accept two strangers into his home, and still had sweetness enough to talk of his future. The depth of her goodness stunned him, overwhelmed him, and made him insane with hunger.
Good God, he wanted her beneath him, spread for him alone. He wanted to take her as a man claims a woman, and in so doing he would see if her goodness was real. He would either break it or own it, but it would be his .
Kit clenched his jaw, refusing to release his howl of fury. Was he a beast then? Was he a slave again, forced to steal any tiny scrap of joy, consuming it quickly before it disappeared? This was why he had waited so many years to return to England. He knew then that he was more animal than man, a beast that walked upright and pretended to civility. He thought four years as a free man had changed him. He thought he was ready to return now.
How wrong!
One look at Miss Madeline Wilson, and he was surging with equal parts lust and fury. It hadn’t been bad during the daylight when there were people and things to distract him. But now, alone in her kitchen? He wanted her with a hunger that frightened him. She was a gently reared lady and he would hurt her. And yet, he could not send her away. If anything, he wanted to push her, to see just how deep her sweetness went.
She was coming! He could smell her scent on the air and hear the light tread of her steps. He waited, breath suspended for her entrance. He knew the moment she appeared, and the beast inside him relished her soft squeak of alarm.
“What are you doing?”
Stripping so that she would see his scars and know him for the animal he was. That’s what he thought, but not how he answered. Instead, his mouth curved into a slightly mocking smile. “I can hardly bathe in my clothing, can I?”
Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with fright. And she had never looked more beautiful. “B-but the water isn’t ready!”
He turned to face her full on. He had yanked
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