To Serve

by Lexy Timms

  “They’ve both done a poor job of it,” he bit out, sounding much harsher than he intended.

  Startled, her mouth fell open. “Mr. Godstone, that is a very presumptuous statement. You can’t say such things simply because we were friends.”

  “Because I’m just a servant after all,” he said bitterly. “Best I remember my place.”

  “No, that isn’t what I meant.”

  “It’s what you meant the day you came down to the kitchen,” he said.

  “What are you...?” Her voice trailed off as she paused to think. “I never said such a thing.”

  “You said that you knew your place,” he reminded her. “And implied that I ought to know my place as well.”

  “I never meant it as an insult,” she insisted with a heavy sigh. “Alistair, we each have our roles. Our parts to play.”

  “You must be the dutiful wife to a man who doesn’t deserve you.” More dangerous words. At the very least he had earned her anger. No doubt he would be sacked for certain now. Only a half-mad fool would talk to his employer’s daughter this way.

  “What we deserve in life is of no importance,” she said breezily.

  “How can you say that?” he demanded. “Evie, you deserve more than this.”

  “What more? What more could I possibly deserve?” she asked, her voice hitching. “I have everything. Wealth, status. I wear diamonds and eat off golden platters for heaven’s sake.”

  “That doesn’t mean you deserve to be spoken to the way that man spoke to you last night,” he forced out angrily. “No woman should be spoken to that way.”

  “The duke had a headache. That is all.”

  “We might have to keep our distance from each other, Evelyn, but you don’t have to lie to me.”

  For a moment she looked stricken. Then her shoulders slumped and she inhaled sharply. “When I said those things about knowing our place... I did not mean that you were beneath me, Alistair. I could never think that. What I said was a reminder to myself more than anything. As for Nicholas, he is my problem. Not yours. You were the one who said that we couldn’t be friends, remember?”

  “We’ve been addressing each other by our first names for the past few minutes,” he pointed out.

  She gave him a faint smile. “Does that mean we have been friends all this time and just didn’t know it?”

  “I want us to be friends.”

  “But?”

  But if it was up to him, they would be more than friends. Far more. Friendship couldn’t be enough. Maybe it had never been enough. His heart didn’t race with any of the other women he had been friends with the way it did whenever he saw Evie.

  When he didn’t respond, Evie said, “But you want to keep your job.”

  “Hang the bloody job,” he said in a hard tone.

  She gasped. “Alistair, don’t say such a thing.”

  “It’s just a job, Evie.”

  “What about your father’s pension?” she asked.

  “I could go back to restoring cars and give my dad everything I earn,” he said. “I’ll have to move back in with my parents so I wouldn’t have to pay rent. I’d be miserable in this small town for years, but if that’s what it takes I’ll do it.”

  “You can’t protect me if you’re fired,” she said.

  He allowed himself to meet her gaze then. Saw the silent plea in the depths of her blue eyes and ached to take her in his arms and kiss her pain away. “So you’re accepting my offer to protect you.”

  “I’ll accept your offer to be friends,” she said.

  “I didn’t offer that.”

  She crossed her arms and pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Take it or leave it.”

  “I said I didn’t—oh bloody hell, there’s no arguing with you, is there?” He laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You are magnificent, Evelyn.” The truth was, even though she had aristocratic ways, she was so different from all the others in the upper class. She was kind. Compassionate because she genuinely cared about people, not because of what she could get out of them. Relentless. Maddening. The most incredible woman he had ever met in his life.

  They looked at each other for a long, lingering moment. Far longer than was appropriate for a servant to look at the lord of the manor’s daughter.

  Despite the faded light in the attic, he saw the blush rise in her cheeks.

  She cleared her throat. “Friends?”

  “Friends.”

  Alistair understood the risk they were both taking by rekindling their friendship. But it seemed that if he wanted to protect her, regaining each other’s trust was the only way to do it. Trust was the only way he would discover what exactly was happening between her and the Duke of Rothford. And when it came to protecting Evie, any risk was worth it.

  “We should probably begin our search,” she said.

  He nodded. “Right. We can take one corner and work our way from there.”

  “Good idea.”

  Holding up the torch light he headed for the nearest corner, testing the floorboards as he went ahead of her.

  In the corner there were piles of old chairs, their upholstery torn and the wood chipped. Underneath the chairs was another pile covered with what looked like faded curtains. With some maneuvering he managed to yank the heavy fabric off, revealing several old night tables.

  “Wait, what’s that?” Evie peered at one of the tables and picked up several broken shards of porcelain from the table surface. “I think these match the broken vase over there.” She pointed to a nearby antique vase that had clearly seen better days. “I remember this old thing. Alistair, this is the vase you broke when you let the dog into the manor.”

  “I distinctly remember you chasing the dog into a newly renovated parlor and me racing inside to try to save you from getting into trouble.”

  She gave a scoff. “Nonsense. You were the one who tried to sneak General Wellington into the parlor.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “You wanted to get mud all over the carpets,” she answered. “Some sort of prank, if I remember correctly.”

  “That sounds nothing like me,” he said.

  Evie paused and then started to laugh. “It does sound more like something I would have done.”

  “Sound like? It was you,” he grumbled. “Unfortunately, your father was convinced that I was the culprit. I got a proper telling-off.”

  “Hmm, yes, I remember the vase was supposedly priceless. Honestly, maybe it was all General Wellington’s fault.”

  “Whatever happened to that blood hound anyway? Is he still alive?”

  “Oh, yes. I gifted him to the former butler. He really was more of the butler’s dog than anyone else’s,” she said with a smile.

  Alistair returned her smile. “So the old rascal’s still alive. Glad to hear it.”

  Suddenly a forceful wind blew through the attic, causing the door to slam shut with a deafening noise.

  “I’ll open it. Have to make sure the fresh air can get in,” Evie said, moving for the door. She twisted the knob and pushed, but the door didn’t open.

  “Something wrong?”

  “The door is stuck,” she said with a frown.

  He headed over. “Here, let me.” Alistair pushed against the door, twisting the doorknob as he braced against the wood. “It’s not moving.” He pushed more forcefully, pain shooting up his shoulder as he heaved. “Looks like I’ll have to try a running start.”

  Evie placed her hand on his arm. “Alistair Godstone, don’t you dare try to break your shoulder just to get a door open.”

  Frowning, he looked down at her. “It’s the only way.”

  “There’s another way. There’s always another way.”

  “My shoulder can mend,” he told her.

  “I don’t care. You’re not getting hurt,” she said firmly.

  “Well, if there’s another way out I’d like to hear it,” he said. “Because, right now, it looks like we’re l
ocked inside the attic.”

  IT FELT LIKE THE WALLS of the attic were closing in on her. Suddenly the shadows in the expansive room were making the attic appear much smaller than it really was.

  “We can try to call someone to get us out,” Evie suggested. If they called one of the staff, they’d be out of the attic in no time.

  “I’d rather we didn’t, but I suppose we have no choice,” he said.

  “You don’t want to call for help?”

  “Not unless we have to,” he replied. “I’ve only just started working at the manor. I’d rather not look like I can’t handle something as simple as getting out of an attic.”

  “I’ll say it was my fault.” Evie started to search for her mobile phone, but realized that it wasn’t on her. She must have left her phone in her room. “I forgot my phone downstairs.”

  Alistair reached into his pocket and retrieved his mobile. “Here, use mine.”

  She took the phone gratefully and speed-dialed her lady’s maid. The call hung up almost immediately and she looked down at the phone screen. “There’s no service. Oh dear, that happens sometimes on the upper floors.”

  “Well, based on my parents’ shoddy reception, service in Huntingshire has never been the best to begin with.” He took the phone from her and put it back in his pocket.

  “So, we’re stuck here?” The walls seemed to be even closer now. Her throat went dry and she sucked in a breath. The stale air in the attic suddenly seemed thin. As if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.

  “Evie, are you all right?” Alistair asked, staring at her. “You’re shaking.”

  Sweat broke out on her brow and she felt her hands go clammy. “What if we can’t get out?” Her heart began to hammer so hard and fast that she felt her chest go tight with pain. She heard a distant roar in her ears. Fear was starting to rear its head, forcing her to inhale again.

  “Evie? Evie, look at me,” Alistair ordered.

  She did as he commanded, losing herself in the dark depths of his eyes. “I...”

  “You’re frightened. I know.”

  “I have a fear of tight spaces,” she choked out. “But the attic isn’t small—”

  “You’re locked in. That’s why the attic is starting to feel smaller than it is,” he said. “You’re having a panic attack, Evie.”

  Those words made her heart race even faster. It truly felt like her heart was about to explode. Alistair was right, she was panicking. “I feel like I’m about to have a heart attack.”

  “Listen to me, Evie. You need to breathe,” he said. “Take deep breaths.”

  She inhaled deeply and then exhaled. But that didn’t seem to slow her heart, which was racing as fast as a runaway horse. Another intake of breath. Except now, her breathing was so heavy she felt herself go light-headed. “It’s not working.”

  “What do you usually do when you’re in a small space?” he asked.

  “It helps to get my mind off whatever is making me panic,” she answered. “I need a distraction. Like a jolt or something.”

  “Like what?”

  “Throwing ice water on me wouldn’t hurt.”

  “We don’t have ice water up here.” He reached out and seized her shoulders gently. “I’m right here, Evie. Focus on me while we think of something to shock you out of your panic.”

  His touch seemed to awaken something in her. It must have been the first time they had touched since she shook his hand at the interview. And now, just like then, the sensation of his skin on hers was making her tingle all over. Heat radiated from his hands and across her skin, his touch scorching her. “A kiss might shock me out of it.”

  “Well, Nicholas isn’t here to kiss you, so we’ll have to come up with something else.”

  “I’m not exactly alone in here,” she gasped out.

  His eyebrow shot up. “Evie, the only person in here to kiss you is me.” He stopped. “You want me to kiss you?”

  Yes. That was all she had wanted since he had returned. To fall into his arms and kiss him until the world melted away.

  Evie opened her mouth to speak, but realized she didn’t know what to say. Then, with her panic forcing all sense from her mind, she reached out to grab his shirt, stood up on her toes, and brushed her lips over his.

  At that very first moment of contact between them, she felt a spark start to burn through her. The spark burned even hotter when she pressed her mouth against his in a silent, insistent demand for more. For a long moment they were suspended in time, their bodies against each other, the kiss chaste enough for plausible deniability. But their bodies were too close together now to deny anything.

  Instead of breaking the kiss he leaned forward, allowing her to get back down on her feet. He raised a hand to gently wrap his fingers around the nape of her neck. Alistair groaned, the rumbling sound making her body quiver in response as he lowered his other hand to hold on to her waist. More heat. This time it burned through the thin fabric of her dress where he was touching her.

  It was then she realized that, even though he was touching her, Alistair was letting her lead. Letting her decide what came next. With a soft moan she parted her lips to invite him in.

  He didn’t hesitate. The moment her mouth was open for him Alistair swept his tongue into her mouth, turning the spark he had ignited into a flame. Their tongues met, turning the kiss so heated she knew that she was melting against him. He caressed her tongue with his and then explored her expertly, kissing her with a skill that shocked her. Pleasantly shocked her.

  Alistair had learned a few things in his time away. Not only how to kiss but how to hold a woman with enough gentleness for Evie to be at ease, with a firm enough grip for her to feel how undeniable his desire was. The heat in the way he had looked at her hadn’t been in her head at all. What she had glimpsed in him was the same need that had simmered inside her.

  Her own desire was now taking over her mind. Her senses. Urging her to break every protocol and every rule just to get a little more. Arousal overtook the desire, and the place between her legs throbbed.

  His exploration turned possessive as his tongue swirled in her mouth. The way he was kissing her was carnal. Almost indecent. Exactly what she had wanted but hadn’t even realized.

  Evie had never been kissed like this before. Not ever.

  Not by the noblemen she had dated because of expectation. Not by the rich bankers who wanted to be seen with a baron’s daughter on their arm. Not by Nicholas. Nicholas kissed her with all the passion of a man putting on his socks.

  The way Alistair kissed filled her with the excitement of a first kiss. The aching passion of a last kiss. He kissed her like she was the only woman in the world for him.

  Abruptly he pulled away, leaving her desperate and aching for more. But he didn’t release his hold on her like she thought he might. Instead of letting go he pressed his forehead to hers, his breathing as labored as hers. Her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Evie...” The way he said her name sent a thousand butterflies through her stomach. He spoke those two syllables with an out-of-breath hunger that took her by surprise all over again. Surprised her and made her wonder just what he was going to say next.

  Chapter 12

  “EVIE, WHY DIDN’T YOU eat breakfast this morning?” he asked.

  Her eyes snapped open. That was the last thing she had expected him to say. “What? What on earth are you talking about?” she asked in shock.

  Alistair took a step back to look her directly in the eye. His gaze was intense, his dark eyes piercing right through her. “I saw that you didn’t eat. Why? Is it the duke that’s been troubling you?”

  Why did he want to talk about the duke now, of all times? Guilt started to eat at her. Last night, Nicholas had made baseless accusations; yet here she was, doing exactly what he had accused her of. “Does it matter?”

  “You know it does.”

  She sighed, wishing she could go back to their shared kiss. Her mouth still felt warm and tingly. “
I realized that the duke can be a very jealous man. And he doesn’t even need a reason for his accusations.”

  “He’s the controlling sort,” Alistair observed grimly.

  “I think he is,” she said with a nod.

  “Do you love him?”

  “We...people like us don’t marry for love,” she said. “We marry for convenience. To increase wealth or status. In my case, I’ll be getting a title. I’ll become a duchess. The pinnacle of nobility.”

  “You’re already a noble. Being a baron’s daughter isn’t enough?” he demanded, a subtle rebuke in his tone.

  “Not for my parents,” she said. “And being mere dukes and duchesses won’t be enough for my children if their grandparents have their way. My father’s dream is to see my children marry into one of the remaining royal families in the world. A dukedom in the family would all but guarantee that.”

  “Don’t they care about your happiness?”

  “They believe that becoming a duchess would make me happy,” she explained.

  “Why?”

  “Because it would make any girl happy. I’m not supposed to want simple things,” she confessed. “That’s why my parents have practically arranged all my relationships. I’m expected to befriend the right sort of people. Only date men with titles or wealth. Honestly, they only arranged for me to date some of the rich men on their list so that I would end up on the duke’s radar. When Nicholas finally took notice of me because I was on the arm of an airline tycoon, my parents encouraged Nicholas to pursue me. It was goodbye airline tycoon after that.”

  “You didn’t have a say in this?” he asked, sounding shocked.

  “No. Of course not. They didn’t even ask me if I was interested in Nicholas,” she explained. “It was an unspoken expectation. Truthfully, it isn’t really a relationship. It’s more of an arrangement. Closer to a business transaction than anything else. The duke wants an heir and he believes that, based on my family tree, I’ll be one of the most likely candidates to give him an heir quickly.”

  “This is madness. You can’t live like this.”

  “It’s the only life I’ve ever known.”