Chapter Fourteen

‘You have recovered, then?’ Liam asked as Rebecca laid down a tray of coffee on his desk.

Apart from the New Year, when they had all gathered in the hall to hear the chiming of midnight, and raise a glass of sweet wine, she hadn’t been allowed from her rooms. Even then, she’d had Gregory, Sam or Tim at her arm every second of those blessed twenty minutes of freedom.

Today, despite everyone’s protestations and cooing, she had insisted she was more than fit enough to return to work. If she was honest with herself, she also wanted to prove that regardless of whatever fancy had come over her during her illness, she could still face Liam without feeling anything...untoward.

‘And have wasted no time returning to work.’

‘Yes,’ Rebecca said, rather more breathlessly than she could have hoped for.

But something in his offhand tone and his proximity as she set down the tray...

Drat the man.

‘I also wish to ask,’ she began tentatively. Apparently she was not fully herself yet. ‘Well, that is, as the staff missed the chance to celebrate Christmas properly, because of me, I thought perhaps, as Twelfth Night is in two days, you might allow us to have a belated sort of Christmas. Mrs Murray still has all the food in the icehouse and the larder—’

‘Fine.’

‘Thank you, my lord.’ She smiled, intent on not taking his gruffness to heart. Not that he saw the smile regardless, staring down at his papers as he was. ‘And I...I’ve not had the opportunity to thank you properly, my lord. Not only for, well, for coming for me, but also...’

Lord, why is this so difficult? Rebecca sighed, focusing on a nick in the polish on the edge of the desk. She would need to see to that.

‘But also for caring for me as you did. I may have seemed unaware, but I was not.’

‘Indeed, you make too much of it, Miss Merrickson,’ he said dismissively.

‘I know of no other, my lord, who would’ve spent such time, nor gone to such lengths tending to their housekeeper,’ Rebecca retorted, finally finding the courage to raise her eyes.

He was no longer looking at his work, and she sorely wished he were.

‘Yes, well,’ Liam said after a moment, clearing his throat as though to hide what looked to Rebecca like a wince. ‘Perhaps, Miss Merrickson, such ministrations might not have been necessary had you not acted so recklessly.’

‘I...I am sorry for any trouble—’

‘Trouble,’ he spat, rising precipitately from his chair, and pacing at the window like a caged animal. ‘Miss Merrickson, what the Devil were you thinking, running out in a snowstorm like that?’

‘I... That is, Mrs F-Ffoulkes,’ Rebecca stammered, completely taken aback by his sudden agitation. ‘She needed to be looked after, and I thought I would make it—’

‘Did you think I would not look after Mrs Ffoulkes?’ he barked, rounding back, with a wild look in his eyes that set her even more on edge.

‘Indeed, my lord, but I—’

‘Did you think at all, Miss Merrickson?’ he continued, as though she’d not said a word, making for her abruptly.

Rebecca took a step back, but he continued his advance.

‘Did you think at all of what consequences your actions might have on others? Of what might’ve happened to you?’ Liam asked fiercely, prowling towards her until she was backed against a bookshelf, and he’d yet again cornered her. ‘Did you think at all of the concern others might have for you? Did you think at all, I wonder, Miss Merrickson, of what would’ve become of me had you been taken from this world?’

Rebecca blinked, her heart pounding, blood rushing in her ears so loudly that her mind struggled to hear the words, to make sense of them.

Frowning, she stared into those tempestuous eyes, trying to find the meaning of his words, of his entire manner at this particular moment. But what she found there seemed to be genuine hurt. Had she imagined the slight crack in his voice at that final question? Was she imagining his laboured breathing now? The pleading in his eyes that reminded her far too much of a wounded animal begging for mercy?

She opened her mouth to speak, but found her voice yet again absent, and instead swallowed loudly.

His eyes searched hers, asking a thousand unspoken questions.

‘No, Miss Merrickson,’ he breathed, with a sadness that pulled at her heart. It seemed as though his search for answers had yielded none. ‘I think, in fact, you thought of nothing before you so carelessly risked your life.’

Only then did Rebecca fully realise how incredibly close he was. She hadn’t so much heard the words as felt his breath against her cheek, soft as a caress, and yet cold enough to freeze her blood.

So close.

Close enough that she could see every detail, from the tiny flecks of grey in the stubble of his beard, to the flicker of his lashes.

So close.

His warmth and his scent were enveloping her, trapping them both in some strange sort of bubble, removed from the rest of the world.

As though...

Almost as though he meant to kiss her.

Nonsense. Impossible.

And yet...there was something else in his eyes now.

Heat.

The shimmering gold flecks had melted, become pools of glistening, molten liquid. Rebecca felt her breath catch as she watched his eyes roam across her face down to her lips. Watched the question form behind his eyes in the almost imperceptible twitch of his eyebrow.

And if he did? Rebecca would not stop him. She would welcome it. Though every bone in her body told her it would be wrong, and bring only agony, she would welcome it a thousand times over.

But it never came.

Only coldness as Liam turned away, almost flying back to the window, hands firmly clasped behind his back, once again the master.

‘Good day, Miss Merrickson,’ he said dispassionately.

‘Good day, my lord,’ she breathed, her voice cracking with the feeling of utter loss that swept over her.

Rebecca bolted from the study, stumbled down the corridor, and out into the garden through the conservatory. She breathed in deep, welcoming the daggers of cold, frosty air into her lungs. She welcomed the nip at her nose and ears, and the shiver which ran through her, unclouding her mind.

No matter how whatever had just happened came to pass, what mattered was that it must never happen again. That way lay only destruction. Broken lives and broken hearts—neither of which Rebecca could afford. Temporary insanity, weakness of the flesh, exceptional circumstances—whatever it might have been, there was no use trying to make sense of it.

Whatever closeness she had allowed thus far, must cease. Things would return to the way they were meant to be. Master. Servant. Invisibility. Speak only when spoken to. Nothing had happened, therefore returning to normality would not be a problem.

Wouldn’t it?

For she had promised herself just that before, and failed miserably.

Liam stared out the window, seeing none of the wintry landscape. All he saw was Rebecca, the image of her as she’d been in those fateful seconds before he’d turned away. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had to do so, to turn away from those eyes gazing up into his own, filled with the same heat which had risen from the very depths of his soul.

So close he’d been to crossing that final line, to giving in to his now undeniable need to touch, to kiss, to possess. She would not have stopped him. He’d seen surrender in those fathomless inviting eyes, and it had nearly been his undoing. Their undoing.

How had he let things go so far? Desire, lust, need... These were not things he’d never felt before in his life. These were not feelings he was unable to conquer—though admittedly he was used to conquering them by surrendering. But when that had not been possible? He had walked away. Closed his mind to the possibility. Distracted himself.

Was the problem simply that he could not walk away? That he could not be rid of her? He should have dismissed her when he’d had the chance. But even then...

Even now. He could walk away. She was his servant, she belonged below stairs, out of his realm, out of his reach—and yet every time she retreated there, he found ways to seek her out. He enjoyed her company. She brought him comfort, and was a witty, intelligent conversationalist. So he’d indulged in what he’d thought to be a harmless relationship.

Friends...

Only, he’d been lying to himself. It had never been harmless, or meaningless, or trivial. Nothing about the damned woman was.

Contradictions.

That was what he’d seen from the first, what had attracted him. There was danger in indulging himself, in getting to know her better. He’d known that very well from the start. Why else had he been so intent on pushing her away? But he’d seen too much, and she...had seen too much. Of him. Pieces he’d never shown to another soul, he had shown her, and she’d not turned away.

The woman had wormed herself into his very being; he knew that now. He’d known it the night he’d gone after her. He’d known then that her loss would leave in him another void impossible to fill. Break him in ways that could never be repaired. But just because he’d grown attached, it did not mean he should give in to his baser instincts.

He could have her body; he knew that now, too. Or, he could have her. He could not have both. That thought had been the only thing to pull him back from the edge, to force him to wrench himself from the nearness of her, her intoxicating scent, the welcoming heat of her body. The thought that surrendering to his animality would mean jeopardising everything else. She would not risk dishonour, or discovery, or shame. Their relationship as master and servant would be broken. She would leave him.

And so, even as his body had screamed out in pain, as though he had torn flesh from flesh, he had stepped away. He would not lose her. He had sworn that in the snow. So he would keep his distance. They would return to the way things had been—or at least should have been.

Master. Servant. Two separate worlds.

Thus resolved, Liam returned to his work, which was more than sufficient to keep him occupied, distracted and far from temptation. He had returned to set things to rights, not to worsen the situation and that of those who depended on him. He’d returned to free himself and so he would. Of everything.

Including her.