Free Eve Silver by His Dark Kiss

smell of warm milk scented the air.
    Increasing the force she was using to beat the egg whites, Emma poured her passions into the action, releasing her anger, her fear, her confusion, all the tumultuous emotions that had been birthed by her experience in the icehouse.
    Someone had purposely set out to frighten her, perhaps even to agitate her enough to cause her to fall. No, not perhaps. Of a certainty.
    Her hand froze over the stiff whites that stood out in crisp peaks with slightly curled tops. Someone at Manorbrier wished her harm . Or perhaps he wished her to flee. Whatever the case, the person in question would quickly learn that she was made of sterner stuff. She had finally found a place where she was needed, wanted, and she would let no one frighten her away.
    For too long she had let the vagaries of her life and the will of others buffet her to and fro. But no more. In making the decision to come to Manorbrier she had found her determination, and she had no intention of forfeiting it now.
    Suddenly, the kitchen door was hurled back against the stone wall, the force sending a loud report through the kitchen. Emma's already strained sensibility was pushed to its limit and with her heart slamming against her ribs, she whirled about with such haste that she nearly overturned the egg bowl.
    Nicky tore across the room and sniffed the air beside the pot of warm milk and arrowroot. “Is it ready? May I taste it?”
    Setting the bowl on the tabletop, Emma swallowed. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Lord Anthony, one arm resting negligently on the doorframe, the breadth of him filling the open space. Heart still pounding, she turned toward Nicky, hoping that her expression betrayed none of her inner turmoil.
    “Not quite ready, Nicky,” she said. “We have a bit of work to do still.”
     She looked up and found Lord Anthony regarding her speculatively. Black lashes. Green eyes beneath straight, dark brows. Those eyes, dear heaven, those amazing, disquieting eyes. And hard, masculine lips formed in perfect sensuality. Carnal. Beckoning.
    Emma felt hot color rise in her cheeks. She looked away, busying herself with measuring out a pound of powdered sugar and setting it on the table next to the cooling milk. She needed just one brief moment to calm her racing pulse, and she was honest enough to admit that her reaction was only partly caused by the fright of Nicky’s precipitous entry, and mostly caused by Lord Anthony’s presence. The hard, steady cadence of her heart pounded her excitement, her pleasure at being in his company.
    Despite his odd behavior. Despite what had just happened to her in the icehouse. Despite every fear and justified suspicion. Foolish girl that she was, his mere presence brought her joy, made her spirits soar with shameless delight.
    “Pour the sugar in a little at a time, Nicky.” She handed him a wooden spoon. “Stir it in, and then add a bit more.”
    “You sound funny,” Nicky said, taking the spoon from her. Then he laughed. “Sort of stiff and full of air, like the egg whites.”
    Emma said nothing, merely passed him the sugar she had measured. She watched as Nicky followed her instructions until, satisfied that he could handle the task on his own, she stepped away.
    “Miss Parrish, are you quite all right?” Lord Anthony spoke softly from directly behind her.
    Tension swept into her shoulders and neck. She could feel the brush of his arm, his side, as he moved to face her and laid the back of his hand across her brow, trailing it down the curve of her cheek. Touching her. He was touching her. Warm, strong hands against her skin, and his body so close she could feel the heat of him.
    Drawing a ragged breath, she struggled against the urge to rub her cheek against his fingers.
     “You are flushed,” he observed.
    “I am fine, my lord. Just warm from beating the eggs.” Ducking her head, Emma pulled away from his touch.
    Mortified by the madness that ran molten