Her Every Pleasure (5 page)

“I…brought my own supplies.”

“Really?” he asked in surprise, admittedly impressed as she nodded and reached into her knapsack, pulling out some hardtack wrapped in cheesecloth and then a bit of dried jerky.

Hm. Fancy that.
Again, his brother had scored another point; Derek knew that Gabriel could not abide a helpless female. This one was as resourceful as she was plucky and independent. Devil take her, the unfortunate beauty tugged at his heartstrings.

Surely she deserved a chance at a more decent life. Was there nothing he could do to help her?

No girl ought to have to sell her body.

“What is your name, my dear?” he asked in a gentler tone.

Head down, she peered up at him from beneath her velvet lashes. “Sophia.”

“Sophia, I am Gabriel Knight. But I take it you already know that.”

“Yes. Your brother told me,” she said with a businesslike nod.

“I don’t need a girl to warm my bed, as I, er, mentioned, but if you’re willing, my housekeeper could use an extra set of hands.”

“Your housekeeper?” She blinked, then stared at him. “You mean, I could work here…as a maid?”

“Yes. Does that sound acceptable? No one’s going to harm you here. And no one is going to use you,” he added meaningfully. “You can return to the life you knew or stay here and try something else. The choice is yours.”

Sophia stared at him for a long moment, her curling tresses tumbling over her shoulder as she tilted her head slightly to the side, contemplating his offer.

It seemed she had never dreamed of such a position.

He lifted his eyebrow expectantly, feeling better already about giving her a new chance in life.

She nodded slowly. “Thank you. I accept.”

“Good,” Gabriel replied, and when she lifted her head, they stared at each other for another awkward moment.

Strange, Gabriel thought. New to England, he still wasn’t used to the range of accents to be found from London’s East End to the rural hamlets, but to his ear, the girl spoke with unusual refinement for one of her class.

Well, he thought briskly, tearing his gaze away, if she was to be his maid, then the matter was settled. No gentleman of any honor pestered his female domestics with his baser needs.

He cleared his throat, glad for the chance to do a good deed, though it would not be easy having her around to tempt him. “You will find Mrs. Moss in the kitchen,” he clipped out. “She’ll give you something fresher to eat than that hardtack, then we’ll figure out where you will sleep. As for your salary—what do maids usually get these days, a shilling a week?”

She shrugged as though she hadn’t the foggiest idea.

No doubt the poor young thing was used to living hand to mouth. For all her fresh-faced beauty, she had the wary look of a survivor. “Right. Well, we’ll settle that later, then,” he mumbled and started to turn away.

“Um, Mr. Knight?”

“Major.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s, er—oh, never mind,” he said, abruptly remembering that he had left the military life behind. It had been his whole identity for so long, but it no longer signified. “Just call me Gabriel. What is it, Sophia?”

Her chin came up a notch. “I’m sorry you don’t want to bed me,” she flung out in light defiance, betraying a trace of, perhaps, stung feminine pride. Or maybe testing him.

Either way, her words caused him to lift an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he answered with a sardonic half smile after a moment. “So am I, my dear, believe me. So am I.”

CHAPTER
         THREE         

“A
fter you,” her new employer said, gesturing toward the ladder.

Sophia nodded, but before leaving the hayloft, she paused and turned away from Gabriel, discreetly lifting her skirts on one side to slide her knife back into its sheath.

He watched her intently, saying nothing. She could only wonder what was going through that head of his.

This man could have taken advantage of her in ways she did not even want to think about, but instead, believing her to be a lowly trollop, he had offered her an honest living.

Now it seemed she was to be his maid.

Lord, Alexa would never let her hear the end of this—but if this was what it took to stay out of harm’s way, then so be it.

Besides, the prospect of walking a mile in the shoes of a poor chambermaid filled Sophia with a gaming spirit. This was sure to be an excellent experience in her royal education. The British diplomats only meant for her to be a figurehead when she took power on Kavros, but Sophia was utterly sincere in her desire to be a good ruler. This would be a perfect chance to understand her people better, the ordinary folk she soon would be put in place to rule.

With her weapon secured, she picked up her knapsack, threw it over her shoulder, and with a resolute lift of her chin, marched across the hayloft.

Gabriel brought the kittens’ empty bowl, and they climbed down from the loft one by one.

Descending first, Sophia jumped down and then turned to watch him as he followed with smooth, powerful movements. Any woman would have been impressed with that Herculean physique, she mused, wickedly eyeing the curve of his sleek derriere.

But as he stepped off the ladder, he gave her a dry look, as though he had felt her ogling his manly person. With no comment, he merely nodded toward the wide barn door.

Sophia stifled a grin and followed him outside. Together they walked toward the rambling farmhouse now visible among the trees. It had been concealed from her last night by the limited view from the hayloft windows.

Walking up the dusty drive beside him, she noted she barely came up to his shoulder. He was bigger than most of her bodyguards, all men chosen for their impressive size.

He had referred to himself as a major, and he certainly carried himself like a military man, but she was perplexed about why he was out in the middle of nowhere like this.

She kept glancing at him curiously, but he continued staring straight ahead.

“Something on your mind?” he asked at length, his tone blunt.

“Oh—nothing.”

“Something,” he countered, slanting her a knowing glance edged with amusement. “What?”

“Nothing, I was just wondering…do you live here with your wife?”

He looked askance at her. “No wife.”

She surveyed the fields. “Are you a farmer?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Well, what are you, then?” she exclaimed.

He laughed, a white flash of his teeth breaking through the dark scruff of his beard. He shrugged off the question with charming modesty. “Just an ordinary man.”

For some reason, she had difficulty believing his answer and gave him a dubious look.

“Here,” he said when he noticed her shrugging her knapsack higher onto her shoulder. His fleeting touch sent a shock through her body as he slipped the strap off her shoulder to carry it for her.

“I can do that—”

“No need.”

Sophia was a bit nervous about letting him take it, for at the moment, that sack contained nearly everything she needed to survive. But he slung it over his shoulder and continued striding up the long drive to the farmhouse.

She quickened her paces to keep up with him.

“I should probably warn you that Mrs. Moss can be a curmudgeon at times,” he said. “She comes in the morning and usually leaves by four.”

“She doesn’t live in?”

“No, she goes home to her family’s cottage each night at the edge of the farm, which is a blessing,” he muttered. “She came with the place, along with the rest of the furniture. She’ll probably insult you, but don’t take it to heart. It’s part of her charm.”

“I won’t,” she replied with a smile. Born to rule, Sophia knew she’d have no trouble handling an uppity housekeeper—but then she remembered her charade as a lowly servant. Hm, it seemed she’d have to take whatever Mrs. Moss was dishing out. But no matter. In for a penny, in for a pound.

This should be interesting,
she thought, quite curious and ready to delve into her experiment.

They walked on in silence, then Sophia laughed when she saw the large white horse rolling on its back in the meadow, sans dignity, four hooves flailing in the air.

“Is that your horse? He looks happy.”

Gabriel nodded, laughing along with her. “He’s just glad to be alive.”

“So am I,” Sophia said softly.
More than he knew.
A shadow of last night’s terror passed over her heart when she thought of how close she had come to being abducted, if not killed, but when she turned to Gabriel, he was staring strangely at her.

“What is it?” she murmured.

He shrugged and dropped his gaze. “You sound like you really mean that.”

“I do.”

He was silent for a moment as they walked on. “I guess you’ve had a few brushes with danger, in your sort of life.”

“So I have,” she answered in a grim murmur, though he did not know the truth.

He gave a taut nod, still avoiding her gaze. “So have I.”

“Well,” she ventured, summoning up a smile to chase away the invisible cloak of heaviness that seemed to come over him. It reminded her of his brooding last night in the church. “Today is a beautiful day,” she pointed out, nodding toward the brilliant tree line and the azure sky.

It seemed to work. A faint smile eased the tension from his eyes as he watched his horse roll up onto all fours again. The animal stood and shook himself, bits of flowers flying from his creamy mane.

“Every day is beautiful,” Gabriel said softly. “One need only open one’s eyes.”

He glanced at her at last, and Sophia laughed at him with harmless mirth. “What, are you some sort of rustic poet?”

“No, I would try, but I’m no good at spelling,” he shot back with an idle grin. “So, what are
you
?” he asked at length, echoing her own question back to her, as if he could not stop himself.

She shook her head. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

“You’re young,” he said sagely. “It can take awhile.” He opened the door for her when they reached the farmhouse, and Sophia could not help but raise an eyebrow.

This man had an extraordinary sense of chivalry if this was how he treated lowly maids.

Nodding her thanks, she walked in ahead of him, but at his show of gallantry, she found herself puzzling once more over his refusal of the “services” that he believed she been sent to render to him as a Gypsy harlot.

Really, why didn’t he want her? He was such an interesting man—and yet quite immune to her appeal. She believed her feminine pride was a trifle miffed.

Yet, in a way, his failure to fawn on her was oddly refreshing. She had learned long ago to take flattery with one cynical grain of salt. People would say anything to butter up even exiled royalty, and while courtiers and other toadies frequently sang her praises as a “ravishing beauty,” she was perfectly well aware that her Greek nose was too big and that her hair turned to a cloud of wild frizz whenever it rained—which, in England, was every other day. No, Lady Alexa with her sculpted face and smooth blond tresses was the beautiful one, but it did not signify.

The point was, Gabriel Knight did not
know
she was royalty and, thus, had no
reason
to flatter her. He was merely being honest—and he honestly found her a woman that he could resist.

You are being silly,
she informed herself.
Would you prefer it if he tried to paw you?

For her part, Sophia had dismissed from her household any number of footmen over the years who had been accused of groping her maids. Her whole staff knew she would not tolerate such nonsense.

Still, Gabriel’s ambivalence toward her left her a bit confused. She was not used to being so easily denied.

In the kitchen, he introduced her to Mrs. Moss, who took an instant dislike to Sophia.

She was glad Gabriel had warned her in advance of the old woman’s ill temper. She was unruffled by the housekeeper’s first efforts to intimidate her.

He leaned in the open doorway off the kitchen, monitoring the housekeeper’s terse, unfriendly interview of her, when suddenly, he started forward, staring toward the field where his horse was grazing.

Sophia saw his sharp movement and looked over. “Is everything all right?”

He continued staring out the door. “I think we’ve got a visitor.”

“What?” She felt her stomach drop with fear, her first thought that her attackers from last night had tracked her down.

“Look.” He pointed as she rushed over to see for herself.

As soon as she peeked out the door relief spiraled through her.

Their visitor was the bay gelding she had ridden here last night.

Oh, dear, she thought, masking her recognition of the animal. The horse must have wandered through the woods and found his way somehow onto Gabriel’s property.

“I don’t see a saddle on him,” he murmured. “Nice-looking animal. He must have got free from one of the local farms. I’d better go and put a rope over him. His owner will probably be here soon, wanting him back.”

“Do you, er, need any help capturing him?” Sophia asked uneasily.

The dazzling smile he flashed as he left the doorway took her off guard. “That’s all right,” he said in a confident murmur. “I’ve got a bit of experience when it comes to horses.”

He strode off without further ado to capture the bay. Sophia gnawed her lip with a guilty wince as she watched him go. Then, behind her, Mrs. Moss demanded her attention and put her right to work.

Sophia hopped to it, determined to explore her temporary role as maid until her bodyguards arrived, but still, she was a bit surprised that no allowance was made for her to eat, as Gabriel had promised. She shrugged it off, however, not pressing the matter. A lowly maid would have to follow orders, and meals, no doubt, were sometimes skipped. Besides, she had no intention of complaining when she knew that many of her people lived with hunger like this every day.

Her duties started immediately, and it didn’t take long to grasp that Mrs. Moss was eager to give her all of the most wretched jobs.

Scrubbing a large sink full of pots and pans from the previous night took her two hours, but at least it was less complicated than her next task. When Mrs. Moss ordered her to pluck a dead chicken for the master’s supper, Sophia barely knew how to begin. It was a horrid job, and her ignorance of how to undertake it proved, frustratingly, to be a prevailing theme of the day.

It didn’t take Mrs. Moss long to realize that the new maid couldn’t cook—at all. So the old woman set her to the simpler task of peeling a mountain of potatoes and chopping another mountain of vegetables. Blazes, she thought, her hands aching after an hour of handling the blunt little knife, how much did this man eat?

Her stomach rumbled continuously, reminding her that she, meanwhile, still hadn’t had her breakfast. Normally it was served to her on a silver tray while she lay abed, exotic fruits and hot chocolate and tea and whatever new delicacies of the day that her chef could dream up. Today, however, it was two in the afternoon before Mrs. Moss finally gave her fifteen minutes to herself.

Sophia gulped down a hunk of bread with a cup of cold coffee left over from Gabriel’s breakfast, but her lesson in the life of a maid was not over yet.

Her next assignment involved going through all of the rooms and trimming the candlewicks and refilling the lanterns’ oil. She had barely finished when Mrs. Moss hurried her outside to bring in more firewood.

With her thoughts still churning over the attack of last night and her private certainty that Ali Pasha was behind it, she looked around for Gabriel. She did not see him anywhere, but was startled to note that the autumn sun was already setting.