Mischief and Magnolias by Marie Patrick Read Free Book Online Page B

rolled up the sleeves of her blouse and began to clear the table, saving the scraps for the pigs, who would eat heartily tonight.
    By the time the pigs were fed, the dishes done and put away, and the kitchen gleamed in the lamplight, exhaustion overwhelmed her. Not only exhaustion, but a queer, curious tingling in her belly as she placed the roasting pan in the cabinet beside the stove. She turned quickly to find Major Harte standing in the doorway, watching her every move. He limped closer and stood on the other side of the butcher-block table.
    “Might I have a moment of your time?” His voice, when he finally spoke, seemed weary and yet still commanding.
    Lamplight reflected on his thick black hair and again the insane impulse to run her fingers through the silky strands overwhelmed her. Her voice stuck in her throat, she simply nodded.
    “Please thank your mother for a lovely supper. I’ve not had such fine cooking in a very long time.”
    Shaelyn swallowed hard. “I’ll tell her.”
    “There is one more thing.” He withdrew a folded paper from his pocket. For a moment, she thought he might have changed his mind about letting them stay. Her heart began to pound in her chest, and she twisted her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking.
    “This is a list of instructions I expect to be followed for as long as we are here,” he said, his voice lowering, sending chills up her spine. He unfolded the paper and handed it to her. Their fingers touched. Shaelyn sucked in her breath as a heat rushed up her arm and the vision she’d had earlier returned, clearer and more vivid.
    “Good night, Shae.” As before, when he spoke her name, liquid honey pooled in the pit of her stomach. She willed the feeling away, but it remained even after he left the room, and she reminded herself that she hated his intrusion into her home.

Chapter 4
    A sharp knock on the door woke Shaelyn with a start. Her eyes flew open. With a groan borne of a lack of sleep, she rolled from the narrow bed in the servants’ quarters.
    Though she’d been exhausted, her rest had been fitful at best. She’d spent most of the night listening to the clock on the bedside table tick away the hours, her mind filled with thoughts of mere survival in a house full of strangers—strangers she now labored for. Even though keeping house for the officers had been her suggestion, it did not sit well with her.
    She lit the candle on the bedside table with trembling fingers. The fury of yesterday had not lessened with the dawn of a new day. Her heart pulsed with anger and revenge—and something else she couldn’t define. The vivid images she saw in her head each time Major Harte touched her haunted her dreams when she did sleep, leaving her confused and mystified.
    The war wouldn’t last forever. Major Harte would someday leave Magnolia House. She’d have her life back, with her home and her business intact because of the sacrifices she and her mother made. In the meantime, Major Harte would come to regret his decision to confiscate her home and her riverboats.
    Her gaze found the list the major had given her last night after supper. Bold yet neat handwriting filled the page, his instructions explicit. He expected breakfast promptly at seven, a small repast at one, and supper at six thirty. Prior to breakfast, he required a cup of coffee, black. Per his instructions, the coffee should be brought to him at six.
    In addition, she would prepare his bath, sharpen his razor, and mix his shaving soap into a rich lather.
    He wanted his uniform neatly pressed and his boots shined to a high gloss. The bed sheets were to be changed, dirty laundry would be gathered, washed, dried, ironed, and put away before the end of the day, and the room he occupied—her room—would be cleaned. She would do the same for the other officers, except for the personal attention he required.
    Shaelyn grit her teeth as she read over the list once more. In truth, she had asked for this,