Snowbound With the Notorious Rake by Sarah Mallory Read Free Book Online

letting all the heat escape.’
    Rose knew she should retreat and wait for him in the corridor, but the warmth of the fire was too tempting so she stepped into the room and closed the door. While Sir Lawrence delved into drawers and searched through a large linen press she looked about her. The painted walls glowed ruby red in the brilliant sunshine, matching the red-and-gold bed hangings. The ornately carved chimneypiece depicted hunting scenes that were repeated in the plaster frieze around the ceiling. In the daylight the chamber looked rich and warm; Roseimagined it at night, with the curtains pulled across the windows and the warm candlelight adding to the fire’s glow. How much more comfortable to lie beside Sir Lawrence on that huge bed rather than in the cold snow…
    Her body grew quite hot at the idea. Heavens, did merely being in the company of a rake make one prey to such dissolute thoughts? Rose quickly reached for the door handle.
    ‘Perhaps I should wait in my own room…’
    ‘No, no, I have found it now.’
    Sir Lawrence came towards her, a floating confection of lace and ribbons in one hand. Despite her nerves Rose laughed.
    ‘I cannot wear that,’ she declared, gazing at the gossamer-thin nightgown. ‘It would be most improper. And besides, it would afford me no warmth at all.’
    Sir Lawrence grinned.
    ‘One of my—er—guests left it here. And I cannot recall thinking it improper.’
    Rose choked. She must not laugh at his outrageous comments. He continued as if he had not noticed. ‘However, I agree it would not be very warm, but you might wear this over it.’ He held up a grey woollen wrap. ‘It is a banyan and a trifle small for me.’ Rose hesitated and he added, ‘Surely it would be better than risking your health by keeping on those wet clothes.’
    ‘Very true.’ She held out her hand. ‘I will go and change.’
    ‘Do you need help?’ asked Sir Lawrence. ‘I am not unfamiliar with…’
    ‘No—thank you!’
    Rose snatched the clothes from him and fled.

Chapter Three
    ‘W ell, it may not be stylish, but it is certainly respectable.’
    Rose regarded her image in the mirror. Sir Lawrence’s dressing gown almost wrapped around her twice, held in place by the belt which was knotted tightly at her waist. It covered her completely from her neck to her toes; if she had not folded back the sleeves, they would have hung down past her fingertips.
    Thankfully her serviceable leather boots had been laced tightly at the ankle and not leaked, so she was able to put them on and protect her feet from the cold stone flags of the lower floors. When Rose left her chamber she was conscious of the soft silk and lace of the nightgown against her skin. Enveloped as she was in the dressing gown, no one could consider her dress immodest, but without her stays or chemise she felt decidedly underdressed.
    The succulent smell of roasting chicken greeted her as she entered the kitchen, making her realise how hungry she was. She reached for the cook’s apron hanging behind the door and was tying it around her when Evans brought in a basket of vegetables from the cold room. If he noticed her unusual garb, he said nothing about it. Neither did Sir Lawrence, who came in shortly after, but she was aware of the way his eyes wandered over her and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly what she was—or was not—wearing beneath the enveloping wrap.
    ‘So you are going to cook Christmas dinner for us, ma’am?’
    ‘I am.’ She tried to keep her attention firmly fixed upon basting the chickens. ‘I am quite adept at the art of cookery.’
    ‘I am very glad to hear it.’
    He sat down at the big table. Rose frowned.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    ‘Nothing. That is, I am watching you.’
    She turned back to the fire.
    ‘I wish you would not.’
    ‘Why? I like watching you.’
    Rose knew it was not just the fire that was heating her cheeks.
    ‘Well, I do not want you to watch me,’ she said