Heirly Ever After

by Vernon, Magan

  “What are ye doing here?” I demanded, taking a step forward and hoping I didn’t mess up that perfect exterior with my powder-covered hands.

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she challenged.

  “I’m the one with the apron and you’re all dressed up for dinner, so I think that answers your question.” I smirked.

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, so why are you in the kitchen? Did you get hired on as staff? Or another thing you were keeping from me?”

  I winced, taking the verbal slap.

  There were so many more secrets she didn’t know about. So much more I couldn’t tell her. But this was one thing I could be honest about.

  “I enjoy baking, so I thought I’d come and help with dessert. Take a little break.”

  “Oh…” Her words trailed as she gazed around the room.

  A few chefs were whispering amongst themselves, but most were too busy cutting and mixing their dinner items.

  “Need any help?” Her tone rose slightly, as if she was unsure of how I’d respond.

  “You’re all dressed for dinner, though.”

  She smiled and pointed at my chest. “That’s what an apron is for, right?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Have ye actually made sponge before?”

  She shook her head, her shoes clicking on the marble floor as she made her way to the rack beside me. “No, but I’m willing to learn.”

  My shoulders tensed as I searched my brain, thinking of an excuse. This was my time to listen to the kitchen staff, maybe ask around and see if they knew about the MacWebleys. Something I should have been doing instead of getting lost in the dough.

  But no one had ever been interested or willing to help when it came to my baking. My own family had always seen it as a hobby, something I did to get out of real responsibility. Something below me.

  Madison’s honest offer had me blowing out a breath and nodding. “Sure. Get an apron and I’ll show you how to make the icing sugar.”

  “You had me at sugar,” she said, grabbing an apron and sliding it over her head. Pushing her hair back, she then reached behind her, her nose scrunching as her hands moved quickly behind her back.

  “Need some help tying it?”

  “No, I think I’ve got it,” she stammered, her hands clumsily fidgeting behind her back.

  I shook my head, feeling the smile creep back onto my face as I laughed. “I’ve got you.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s fine, really.”

  Of course, I didn’t listen and circled the table then slid behind her.

  The kitchen was full of intense smells of the nightly baking, but her sugary vanilla scent was all I could inhale. Darn, maybe I was too close.

  I placed my hands on hers, and she stilled, her hands slightly shaking against the fabric straps at her back. Not enough that I would have seen it, but as I wove my fingers with hers, my thumb rubbed a slow circle on her palm just like I had when I’d been helping her on the horse.

  Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, because as soon as she let out a breath, my heart started beating a bit faster and I prayed she couldn’t hear it. The more she didn’t know what her body did to me, the better.

  Feck.

  Why couldn’t complicated things be as easy to figure out as a Victorian sponge recipe?

  I let go of her, reluctantly, and wrapped the fabric pieces between my fingers, tying a small bow. I pulled away as soon as I secured the last knot.

  “There. Should be good,” I said, stepping back and heading back to the prep table, so she wouldn’t notice just how much her body was affecting me. Especially since I was in danger of pitching a tent in my trousers.

  Bloody hell, where could I go to adjust?

  No.

  Just had to think about baking.

  Not about the woman next to me.

  “Okay, where do we start now? On the sponge or the frosting? Or what are we doing again?” she said with a laugh.

  “Frosting,” I said, keeping my voice even as I grabbed the cuts of butter I had sitting out.

  “So, I guess you don’t just get a can of it and smear it on, huh?” she asked as I dumped the butter into a clean stand mixer.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the canned stuff.”

  “There’s nothing like canned frosting frozen between two graham crackers.”

  Looking up, I met that damn little cheeky smile of hers and couldn’t help the one crossing my face. “Wait until ye taste real buttercream.”

  “What’s so special about it? Is there real butter and cream?”

  I smiled, laughing as I handed her the bowl of frosting sugar. “Butter and frosting sugar. That’s all you need.”

  She turned the bowl slightly, and I grabbed her wrist to stop her.

  “What?”

  “You have to cream the butter, then ye add the sugar.”

  She laughed slightly, and her cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. Guess that’s the cream part of the butter cream.”

  “Ah.” I nodded, realizing my hand was still on her wrist, as if it had a mind of its own.

  Instead of pulling away, though, I let my fingers linger for a few more seconds, watching the goose bumps prickle against her skin.

  “Pardon me, coming through,” a gruff voice called, pushing behind us as one of the chefs walked by with a tray of sponge.

  Clearing my throat, I dropped my hand from hers and then put it on the mixing stand. “I guess we should get the frosting ready.”

  “Oh, yeah. Totally,” Madison said, but there was something else in her gaze before she flicked her eyes to the mixture. Something that could be very dangerous if we acted on whatever was passing between us.

  Turning on the mixer, the beater swirled the mass of butter chunks into a large fluffy layer, pushing it around the bowl.

  “Now you’re going to pour the sugar in…” I tried to yell over the whirring.

  “Okay,” Madison called before I could finish speaking or stop her from moving.

  With a flick of her wrist, the powder was in the bowl then out of the bowl in a helicopter of white dust.

  I managed to cover my face with my shirt sleeve before a large plop of sugar and butter hit my elbow. I fumbled my free hand for the mixer and unplugged it, not wanting to look to find the button.

  “Slowly. You add the sugar slowly.” I dropped my hand and looked up through the haze of white dust.

  As it cleared, Madison’s wide brown eyes were the only thing visible before she coughed out a puff of sugar. “Yeah, probably would have been useful to tell me that before I poured it.”

  “You didn’t give me a chance.” I smiled but had to look away so I could swallow my laughter from the adorable way her lips puckered even through the face full of sugar.

  Another chef passed by our table, waving her hands. “Head to the dish room. It’s back by the pantry. Go on, clean up before the sponge cools.”

  “Just…back…” Madison pawed at her face, blinking hard as if she was trying to scrub off the powder, but it just got deeper into her eyeballs.

  “Here, let me help you.”

  Placing my hands on her wrist, I removed them from her eyes, watching her peer up at me from her lashes.

  “Sorry, I’m kind of a hot mess.”

  Squeezing her hand, I took a step back, pulling her with me. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

  She shook her head yet kept moving with me. “I’m fine. Sorry for being a klutz. I guess I should have listened.”

  “Yer doing it again,” I spat.

  She blinked hard. “Um, doing what?”

  “Apologizing profusely. I told you. Ye don’t need to be sorry for everything, especially not something that was an accident.”

  I pulled her into the dish room
, a long, brick hallway full of long silver sinks on one wall, and the other side stacked with dishes.

  A few chefs stacked the last of their plates then scurried out of the door behind us, leaving us alone with nothing but the sound of a few drips from the faucets.

  “You don’t need to be an ass just to prove a point,” she muttered, trying to brush past me to the sink. But as soon as her shoulder pressed to mine, I grabbed her waist again, pulling her to me. The curves of her body fitted perfectly against mine.

  A stuttered breath escaped her lips.

  “Madison. I know I haven’t been forthcoming with you completely, and you can hate me for that, but please just stop apologizing or trying to make yourself smaller.” I pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, trailing my fingers along her cheek, brushing away the soft powder from her face. “You deserve to stand out, deserve happiness and not to hide from it.”

  “We’re friends, helping each other out this weekend, okay? You don’t need to try to psychoanalyze me.” Her words weren’t harsh, but a soft whisper.

  “I’m not trying to do anything, Madison,” I whispered back, though we both knew that was a lie. She didn’t know the whole truth, and the guilt was eating me up.

  She opened her mouth then closed it again before letting out a breath. “I really need to get this stuff off my face.”

  “Yes. Probably a good idea.” I dropped my hands, moving to the side as she hurried to the sink.

  Pulling down on the large nozzle, she furrowed her brow at the handle then jerked it forward as she pressed it. Instead of a slow trickle, the water came in full blast, the hose moving like a wild snake in her hands as an explosion of water splattered the walls.

  She yelled, and I rushed to her side, trying to grab the offending hose.

  Fighting through the dredge of water, my clothes stuck to my skin, fully soaked through. By the time I got the faucet closed, the powder and most of the butter was gone from Madison’s face, and she was fully drenched. Her mop of red hair stuck to her face and neck, dripping down her shoulders.

  “Are you all right?” I asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

  She pushed back her hair, picking at a few stubborn strands stuck to her cheeks. “I think so.”

  “Are you going to apologize for getting me all wet?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said not to apologize.”

  “Ah, yer learning. I guess then I shouldn’t apologize for this, either,” I said, slowly creeping my hands along the faucet.

  “For what?”

  I grabbed the hose again, turning on the faucet and lightly spraying her.

  Which might have been either my best or worst idea.

  Her eyes widened, and now the apron was sticking to her like a second skin.

  “Oh, it’s on!” She squealed, jumping forward and grabbing the hose for herself.

  Our fingers interlocked around the hose’s neck, fighting for the trickle of water as it bounced off the sink, splashing both of us. She giggled as our bodies tangled together, pushing to grab the flimsy metal between us.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed so much with anyone. And with every slip of her body falling into mine, I found myself craving the closeness, craving her.

  Forgetting where we were, I dropped my hands from the hose and grabbed her slippery waist, pulling her body flush with mine before I did what I should have done long ago and crashed my lips to hers.

  I wasn’t sure how she’d respond. But then she wrapped her arms around my neck, and her tongue met mine in a delicious dance. The kiss turned frantic. I needed to taste her. To feel her. To forget everything else and just get lost in her.

  My hands moved from her waist up her sides, my hands dragging over the wet material of her dress and behind the soaked apron. I circled her breasts with my fingertips. Her nipples pebbled through the thin fabric of her top, and she gasped into my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip.

  This was wrong.

  I knew we shouldn’t be doing this.

  Here and now. Or ever.

  But with Madison, everything somehow seemed right.

  Her kisses turned desperate, her mouth continuing to search mine as she threaded her fingers through my hair, pulling us as close as we could be with our clothes still on.

  I hesitated with my hand splayed on her thigh, wondering if I should keep going. If it was better to stop this all together.

  Shite.

  I brushed my lips to her neck. She smelled like goddarn sunshine and frosting sugar, and I could have gotten lost in her forever.

  Forever?

  I needed to douse some water on this situation.

  “Coming through,” a voice yelled.

  I dropped my hands quickly as Madison jerked away.

  A man carrying a large stack of dishes so tall there was no way he could possibly see over barged in. He made no comment as to the excess of water on the floor. And the walls. And on us.

  Madison blushed as red as her hair while she watched the man drop the stack in the sink. She looked utterly beautiful. “I should, um, clean up before dinner,” she said, looking everywhere but at me or the man now washing dishes behind us.

  “You sure ye don’t want to stay?” I asked, wishing I hadn’t. Knew I shouldn’t. But my aching cock seemed to be doing the talking.

  “You probably need to finish the dessert you’re working on, right?”

  Oh, there was much more I wanted to finish than dessert.

  As if the universe was against us, the pastry chef pushed the door open. “Are you two done in here? If you’re really going to help, we need the sponge finished now.”

  I sighed, my shoulders falling. I needed to finish what I’d started in the kitchen, but I also knew that I wasn’t done with Madison, either.

  This started out as a trip to help my family, and now…well, now there was so much more at stake. So much more that wasn’t going to be finished with just a few dishes.

  Chapter Nine

  Madison

  Dammit.

  Why did I let Jacob kiss me?

  My brain, heart, and—well, let’s be honest—lady parts fought each other as I made my way up the stairs and down the hall toward my room. At least I hoped it was the right direction. Damn this castle or manor or whatever for being so big and my brain for being in a Jacob-induced fog.

  “Pardon, but if you’re looking for the kitchen, it’s in the other direction,” a posh English accent called.

  Whirling around, I came face to face with what could have been a princess.

  Everything about her screamed money and good taste from the subtle liner around her bright blue eyes, the perfectly puckered lips, and the black jumpsuit that fit her like a glove. Her blonde hair twisted into a fancy updo that looked like something I would have paid a lot of money for on prom night. If I went to prom in high school, that was.

  While I was pretty sure that I had to look like hell with my wet clothes, hair, and no doubt traces of the frosting mix left on my face, the girl across from me confirmed it with a slight raise of her eyebrow.

  “Yeah, um, I just came from there.” I pushed my sopping hair out of my face, trying to compose myself, but it was a little hard when the soaked fabric of my dress flapped against my skin and droplets of water ran down my arms and legs.

  She tilted her head, blinking her eyes so those too-long-to-be-real eyelashes fluttered. “Are you looking for my brother, Lord Gavin? Is everything all right with the dinner or is there something we need to alert the property manager of?”

  “What?” I asked, my already scrambled brain trying to process what she was saying.

  Then it all hit me like a deep wave, and I finally let out the laugh that felt like I’d been holding it in forever. “Oh, ha. You think I work in the kitchen. No. I was just, um, down there help
ing a friend and had a little accident with the sugar.”

  “Oh?”

  Now I could see the resemblance with her and her brother. Neither smiled much and their face never seemed to move, as if it had been carved in stone to stay like that.

  “I’m Natalie’s sister, Madison.” I held my hand out then dropped it quickly when I found flakes of sugar and butter still stuck to my knuckles.

  Finally, a small smile crossed her lips as she let out a sigh, putting her hand to her chest. “Oh, well, hi. I’m Cecily, Gavin’s sister.” She cleared her throat, standing straighter as if she had to always be composed when she spoke. “Pardon my rudeness. I just didn’t expect you to be in a state with the apron and wet hair.”

  “Yeah…I guess I should get changed before dinner…again…” I looked over my outfit, wishing the apron would have blocked some of the mess. I only had so many nice outfits, and at this rate, I’d have to go back through some of them more than once.

  Would it be a faux pax to wear the same dress that I had worn to tea to dinner? Even though it was short and Natalie requested a long dress?

  Dammit, I should have really done some Googling before coming here. Or sucked it up and actually had a conversation with my sister.

  But then that conversation would have led to other things that I still had no idea how to talk about. Sooner or later, I’d have to tell Mom and Natalie about dropping out of school.

  Maybe after the wedding, or never.

  “Need help finding your room?” Cecily asked in a light tone that almost knocked me back, coming out of that statuesque face.

  I nodded. “Actually, yeah. That would be great. I seem to have gotten myself pretty turned around.”

  “Follow me.”

  Gladly.

  I waited until she moved before I reluctantly followed in step with her, making sure my wet dress didn’t get anywhere near her velvet booties.

  “So, you’re Gavin’s sister, the one Natalie and I are going horseback riding with tomorrow?” I asked, trying to break the awkward silence as we glided down the hallway.

  “Yes, I believe my brother set that up.”

  Again, no facial expression change.