Free Too Scandalous to Wed by Alexandra Benedict

gingerbread. “If we work together, we’ll be done by luncheon.”
    He paused. “Luncheon? How many cookies do you intend we bake?”
    “Oh, a few hundred or so should do it…the wet ingredients are next.”
    She pushed a jug of brown goop his way.
    After he’d recovered from the shock of having to make a few hundred cookies, he looked into the jug and grimaced. “What is that?”
    “Molasses.” She picked up a spoon. “Here. Use this to scrape it out; the molasses is very thick.”
    Sebastian sighed and poured in the gummy ingredient. The wily chit had hoodwinked him thoroughly. Again. How did he keep getting tricked into skating trips and cooking parties?
    But it was hard to be vexed with the girl when there was a dusting of flour on the tip of her pert nose.
    “I didn’t know you were so generous with the village children, Miss Ashby.”
    She put the rest of the gingerbread cookies on the iron griddle. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Ravenswood.”
    “I’m beginning to realize that.”
    Henrietta picked up the griddle and a scrap of black wool, and sashayed over to the fireplace. She reached inside the hearth with the wool, pulled out the crane, and set the griddle on the S-hook.
    She swung the iron arm back over the fire. “That should take just a few minutes.”
    All the while, Sebastian studied her lithe movement. He pondered her skill in the kitchen and wondered what else he didn’t know about the girl.
    Henrietta returned to the table and checked on his progress. “Now for the egg, my lord. Try not to get the shell into the bowl…on second thought, let me do it.” She cracked the egg on the side of the dish and dropped in the yolk, discarding the shell. “Now mix it all up.”
    Sebastian glanced across the cluttered table, spotted a wooden spoon, and picked it up.
    “Oh no!” She whisked the wooden spoon away. “With your hands.”
    He looked down at the sloppy mixture. “I’m not touching that.”
    She sighed. “Let me show you, Ravenswood.” She took his hands and pushed them into the gooey blend. “Like this.”
    Sebastian’s outrage fizzled the moment she started to work her fingers over his. In deft strokes, she kneaded the dough with him, pushing his hands together, forcing him to press and squeeze the supple compound.
    There was something very familiar about the movement of her hands. A pulsing rhythm that warmed the blood in his veins.
    Perhaps he should bake cookies more often?
    Sebastian could hear her soft breath, a slow beat. Smell the sprinkle of jasmine at her throat. He looked into her eyes as she molded the dough, such a deep toffee brown. Dots of flickering candlelight reflected in the glossy pools.
    Sebastian must be standing too close to the fire, for he could feel the flames licking…
    “Smoke,” he whispered.
    She flicked her pretty lashes. “What’s that, my lord?”
    He sniffed. “I think the cookies are burning, Miss Ashby.”
    “Oh no!” She quickly wiped her fingers on her apron and rushed over to the hearth. With the scrapof black wool, she snatched the griddle from the flames and carried it back to the table.
    Henrietta set the griddle on the iron spider and inspected the cookies. “They don’t look too bad.”
    With a knife, she picked up a cookie to check the underside.
    Black as pitch.
    “Oh dear.” She tsked. “I’ll feed these to the hounds. We’ll have to start anew, my lord.”
    Sebastian took in a deep breath to dispel the balmy heat in his belly.
    Finished by luncheon, indeed.
     
    “Be careful, Henry!” Penelope cried. “You’ll burn your sleeve!”
    “Give the boy some room,” said the baron, and waved a hand. “Step back everyone. Step back.”
    Henrietta pursed her lips in concentration. She eyed the floating raisin in the fiery bowl—not an easy task in the darkened room—and licked her fingers to moisten the tips.
    “Oh, I can’t look!” The baroness covered her eyes with a kerchief, but still peeked through