Read Online Yours Until Dawn by Teresa Medeiros - Free Book Online
Authors: Teresa Medeiros
Ads: Link
warm, cozy beds before the crack of dawn?”
“If you must know, my conscience was troubling me.”
“I can see why such a rare occurrence might rob you of your sleep.”
Gabriel drummed his long, elegant fingers on a silk-covered bolster, his only acknowledgment of her riposte. “I was lying here all alone in my bed when I suddenly realized how unfair it was of me to hinder you in the performance of your duties .” His sulky mouth caressed the word, sending a curious shiver down Samantha’s spine. “You’re obviously a woman of high moral character. It would hardly be right to expect you to sit back and collect your rather generous wages for doing nothing at all. So I decided to rectify the situation by ringing for you.”
“How very thoughtful of you. And just which duty would you like me to perform first?”
He pondered for a moment before his face brightened. “Breakfast. In bed. On a tray. Please don’t disturb Étienne this early. I’m sure you can manage. I’d like my eggs baked and my bacon lightly charred around the edges. I’d prefer my chocolate to be steaming, but not too hot. I don’t wish to scorch my tongue.”
Bemused by his high-handedness, Samantha exchanged a look with Beckwith. “Will there be anything else?” She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from adding, Your Majesty .
“Some kippers and two fresh-baked crossbuns, slathered with honey and butter. And once you’ve cleared up after breakfast, perhaps you could ring up a bath and finish dusting my sitting room.” He blinked in her direction, looking as angelic as that sinister slash of a scar would allow. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” she assured him. “It’s my job.”
“Indeed it is,” he concurred.
As the right corner of his mouth curled in a devilish smile, Samantha clearly heard the sound of a trap snapping shut on her tender tail.
Chapter 5
My dear Miss March,
If you mock my honeyed words, perhaps I should try to woo you with honeyed kisses instead…
“M iss Wickersham? Oh, Miss Wickersham?” That plaintive refrain was accompanied by the merry jingling of Gabriel’s bell.
Samantha slowly turned in the doorway of his bedchamber, still breathless from having traipsed up four flights of stairs from the basement kitchens for the third time that morning.
Her patient was propped up among the bed pillows in a pool of morning sunshine. Sprawled there on the rumpled sheets with the sunlight sifting through his tousled hair, he looked less like an invalid than a man who had just enjoyed a passionate tryst.
He held out the Wedgwood cup Samantha had just handed him, a disappointed moue turning down the unscarred corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid my chocolate is lukewarm. Would you mind asking Étienne to make a fresh pot?”
“Of course not,” Samantha replied, returning to the bed and wrenching the cup from his hand with more force than was necessary.
She hadn’t even reached the top of the stairs when the bell started jingling again. She stopped and counted to ten beneath her breath before painstakingly retracing her steps. She poked her head around the doorframe. “You rang?”
Gabriel dropped the bell. “When you return, I thought that perhaps you could reorganize my wardrobe. I’ve decided it might be easier for me to dress myself if you grouped all of my cravats, waistcoats, and stockings together.”
“I wasn’t aware that you’d stirred yourself from your bed in the past week long enough to dress yourself. And I spent six hours yesterday matching your garments into complete sets because you decided you didn’t care to have them sorted by type.”
Gabriel sighed, his fingers plucking aimlessly at the satin coverlet. “Well, if it’s too much trouble…” Ducking his head, he left the challenge hanging in the air between them.
She gritted her teeth in a smile that felt more like a death rictus. “I should say not. On the contrary, it
“If you must know, my conscience was troubling me.”
“I can see why such a rare occurrence might rob you of your sleep.”
Gabriel drummed his long, elegant fingers on a silk-covered bolster, his only acknowledgment of her riposte. “I was lying here all alone in my bed when I suddenly realized how unfair it was of me to hinder you in the performance of your duties .” His sulky mouth caressed the word, sending a curious shiver down Samantha’s spine. “You’re obviously a woman of high moral character. It would hardly be right to expect you to sit back and collect your rather generous wages for doing nothing at all. So I decided to rectify the situation by ringing for you.”
“How very thoughtful of you. And just which duty would you like me to perform first?”
He pondered for a moment before his face brightened. “Breakfast. In bed. On a tray. Please don’t disturb Étienne this early. I’m sure you can manage. I’d like my eggs baked and my bacon lightly charred around the edges. I’d prefer my chocolate to be steaming, but not too hot. I don’t wish to scorch my tongue.”
Bemused by his high-handedness, Samantha exchanged a look with Beckwith. “Will there be anything else?” She had to bite her bottom lip to keep from adding, Your Majesty .
“Some kippers and two fresh-baked crossbuns, slathered with honey and butter. And once you’ve cleared up after breakfast, perhaps you could ring up a bath and finish dusting my sitting room.” He blinked in her direction, looking as angelic as that sinister slash of a scar would allow. “If it’s not too much trouble, of course.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” she assured him. “It’s my job.”
“Indeed it is,” he concurred.
As the right corner of his mouth curled in a devilish smile, Samantha clearly heard the sound of a trap snapping shut on her tender tail.
Chapter 5
My dear Miss March,
If you mock my honeyed words, perhaps I should try to woo you with honeyed kisses instead…
“M iss Wickersham? Oh, Miss Wickersham?” That plaintive refrain was accompanied by the merry jingling of Gabriel’s bell.
Samantha slowly turned in the doorway of his bedchamber, still breathless from having traipsed up four flights of stairs from the basement kitchens for the third time that morning.
Her patient was propped up among the bed pillows in a pool of morning sunshine. Sprawled there on the rumpled sheets with the sunlight sifting through his tousled hair, he looked less like an invalid than a man who had just enjoyed a passionate tryst.
He held out the Wedgwood cup Samantha had just handed him, a disappointed moue turning down the unscarred corner of his mouth. “I’m afraid my chocolate is lukewarm. Would you mind asking Étienne to make a fresh pot?”
“Of course not,” Samantha replied, returning to the bed and wrenching the cup from his hand with more force than was necessary.
She hadn’t even reached the top of the stairs when the bell started jingling again. She stopped and counted to ten beneath her breath before painstakingly retracing her steps. She poked her head around the doorframe. “You rang?”
Gabriel dropped the bell. “When you return, I thought that perhaps you could reorganize my wardrobe. I’ve decided it might be easier for me to dress myself if you grouped all of my cravats, waistcoats, and stockings together.”
“I wasn’t aware that you’d stirred yourself from your bed in the past week long enough to dress yourself. And I spent six hours yesterday matching your garments into complete sets because you decided you didn’t care to have them sorted by type.”
Gabriel sighed, his fingers plucking aimlessly at the satin coverlet. “Well, if it’s too much trouble…” Ducking his head, he left the challenge hanging in the air between them.
She gritted her teeth in a smile that felt more like a death rictus. “I should say not. On the contrary, it
Similar Books
