At the sound of her name, all thoughts of asking Miss York to shave his beard and cut his hair fled Rhys’s mind.
He wouldn’t be going anywhere tonight. Sitting alone with this enticing and thoroughly charming young woman was far better than anything the Royal Oak tavern had to offer.
Wister. Why am I not surprised that such an enchanting woman has a magical name?
Chapter Eight
If she had known that all it took in order to get a man to actually listen to her was to fry him up a spot of supper, Wister would have taken up cooking long ago. As it was, the potato cake was one of only a handful of recipes in her limited kitchen repertoire.
But it didn’t matter. She had a job. A formal appointment to a role she felt she could fulfil. Lord Carno…no, Rhys had asked for her assistance. For the first time since her arrival at Kington House, Wister held hopes of being valued by someone.
The following morning, she met Rhys downstairs. After a quick, but hearty bowl of oats and sliced dry apple, they made their way out the front door.
She ignored his sly grin at her notebook and pencil as they came to a halt a few yards from the house. Rhys stood, hands on hips, and pronounced his opinion about the main residence.
“The guttering needs repairs. The windows a good lick of paint.” He glanced at her still closed book and cleared his throat. “You might want to take some notes, Wister.”
Keeping her composure, she opened the book and let a long piece of paper unfurl and fall over the side. She had been taking notes. Pages and pages of them over the past year. “I think I have those already on the list,” she replied.
He muttered something under his breath, and she turned her head away while she stifled a titter.
“It’s pleasing to see you have already done some homework,” he said.
Her chortle turned to a wry grin. “I assume you know the ancient folktale of Aladdin? Well, I call this notebook the book of a thousand and one wishes, because I figure it will take a magic genie to make all of them come true.”
“Once again, I have underestimated you, Wister. If you do happen to find that genie, could you please ask him for a large sack of gold coins but tell him he can hold off on the magic carpet,” replied Rhys.
They shared a moment of silence while a lightness hung in the air between them. Even a little banter with Rhys was worth its weight in magical gold coins. Lord Carno was fast becoming a person she had a lot of time for. A man who seemed to not only care about people but who wanted to salvage Kington House.
“I could recount the details from the notebook as we work our way around the estate today. When we are finished, I can add in anything else that you feel needs to be included. Would that work in with your plans, Rhys?”
“Why yes, Wister, that sounds like a sensible idea.”
Wister swallowed deeply at hearing him speak her name. Her pulse began to quicken at the prospect of the dozen or so wicked things she would like to do with him. All of them naked. She quickly averted her gaze and studied the notebook.
What are you doing? You have only just met the man.
She sent a prayer of thanks to heaven for having had the good sense to wear a heavy coat this morning. Under her gown, her nipples peaked as primal urges stirred. Just standing this close to Rhys did things to her body that hadn’t happened in a very long time.
Not since him.
She pushed the thought of a certain gentleman and what he had done to her some two years past firmly to the back of her mind. A summer affair which had eventually revealed itself to be a major mistake on her part, and for which she had been made to pay many times over.
“Shall we?” Rhys said.
Only a day ago, she had been worried that he was going to dismiss her from his employ, and she would be homeless. The world had spun a mere half day forward and she now found herself picturing him without his jacket, waistcoat, shirt and…
Keep your mind on what you should be doing and stop thinking wicked thoughts of Welsh barons. He is rather striking, but he is not for you.
Her lustful body was not so easily dissuaded. Following Rhys, Wister indulged in a private study of his broad shoulders and his enticing brown hair which peeked over the collar of his coat. Her thoughts continually ran to all the wrong places. Dangerous places.
What sort of lover would you be? If your gruff, sexy manner is anything to go by, I can imagine you would be superb.
Wister gritted her teeth. This job had seemed easy. Now she wasn’t so sure. Rhys might well be giving coins for her advice, but she too would be paying a price over the next month or so.
Resisting her growing attraction to this ruggedly handsome Welsh baron was going to cost her greatly.
Chapter Nine
The list inside the notebook grew steadily over the next few days. Each morning Wister and Rhys would meet to discuss what else needed to be done in order to get Kington House operating as a fully functional and money-generating estate once more.
They also settled into a comfortable routine of supping together in the kitchen each night. Rhys noted but did not make mention of Polly’s increasingly earlier departure time as the days wore on. Wister was still de-facto estate manager and therefore in charge of the kitchen. If she wanted to have a word with the cook about her hours, that was up to her.
As far as Rhys was concerned, if Polly finished her work early in the afternoon, she was welcome to go home and leave Kington House to Wister and himself.
Closing the book, he pushed back in his chair and stretched out his arms. Across the desk from him, Wister did the same.
“It’s a pity we don’t have a decent wine cellar. I could do with a drop of brandy or even a whisky,” he said.
She nodded at the notebook. “That should go on the list. I am sure I polished off the last of the decent brandy a couple of months ago, but you never know what you might find in the cellar under the house. Could be worth taking a look.”
Rhys narrowed his eyes at her. This was Wister talking, and from what he had already discerned about her, there was a better than even chance that she knew exactly where every single stray bottle of alcohol was hidden in the house.
It could be fun to help her go down into the cellar and find them. Who knows what might happen in the dark? She could trip on something and you would have to take a firm hold of her…What am I thinking?
Being alone with Wister was becoming a dangerous thing. She might be an advisor, but she was still in his employ. First name basis or not, he had no right to be letting his quietly growing lust for her get the better of him. “I tell you what, let’s go to the village. We can have a couple of glasses of the local ale, then come back here for supper.”
She grinned at him somewhat sheepishly from her side of the desk. They hadn’t known one another for very long, but he already knew that look. “What?”
“I have a bottle of wine. Polly brought it with her from the village this morning. So, rather than us go into Kington, I was going to suggest that I cut your hair and give you a shave. We can share the bottle of red,” she replied.
For Wister to get close enough to give him a proper shave, her breasts would be mere inches from his face. He wasn’t sure how he would be able to deal with such temptation.
When his manhood twitched and offered up its own opinion about the matter, the decision was made. “Perhaps another time.”