Free War Chest: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 5 by Lynne Connolly

Odd because she never felt that way about anywhere, even the house she’d grown up in. This dark, rambling house with few residents suited her mood, but it also fitted her instincts. She had never known such space before, such opportunities for solitude. When she awoke, she left her bed without even considering the matter and was at her washbasin, rinsing in cold water before she was properly awake. Unused to the chill, she was mildly surprised not to find a crop of goose bumps when she passed the sponge over her body.
    Then the realisation hit her. She gasped, and goose bumps rose on her skin, though not from cold. Rather, from the memory of last night. He had kissed her, as a man kissed a woman—as if he’d meant it.
    She shivered and reached for a clean shift. Nursery maids should always keep themselves clean, for fear of contaminating their delicate charges, but Ruth liked the feel of clean linen against her skin. She possessed precious few indulgences, but this was one of them.
    Perusing her new clothes felt almost wicked. She touched the fine fabrics, letting her fingers run over the cloth. Eventually chose a gown of deep green and a petticoat of the same colour. It seemed a shame to fasten her practical white apron around her waist, but she was not here to look beautiful, even if she could.
    When she glanced in the mirror above her washbasin, the colour on her cheeks shocked her. She was almost pretty. That would never do. He might take it into his head to kiss her again, and then where would she be?
    On her way to being ruined. With her sister’s sad example to recall, Ruth was determined not to take that path. Except—Rhea’s stories made her wonder. Rhea had been a flirt of the first order and had thoroughly enjoyed her exploits, right to the end, including her affair with Marcus.
    What would he be like naked? Powerful, no doubt. Would his skin be soft or hard under her hand? Would he rise, as the bulls in the field did, to serve her?
    Such crude images sprang into her head, then Ruth clapped a hand over her mouth. Swiftly, she found her most enveloping and plainest white cap. After dragging all her hair back, she wrapped it in an uncompromising knot. When she stabbed her scalp with a hairpin, she welcomed the pain. Served her right for having such wicked thoughts.
    Like a bad angel, her conscience whispered in her ear. Why not? What do you have to lose?
    That brought her back down to earth. She snorted as she tied the strings of her decent linen cap under her chin. As if anyone would want her. Marcus—his grace, that was—had probably merely done it to tease her. Still, it was pleasing to know she was not a total drab.
    With a swirl of her skirts, Ruth left the room and went into the nursery to attend to her charges.
    The scent of hot chocolate assaulted her nostrils, indulgence in a cup. The mill stood on the flagstones next to the hearth and Andrea sat at the table in the small sitting-room, a positive feast laid out for her. “The babies are sleeping, but they’ll be awake soon.”
    The remnants of a meal lay on a plate, but to Ruth’s disappointment, little remained. “His grace has asked you to eat with him when you are awake,” Andrea said, as if it was commonplace for a servant to eat with her master.
    “I see. Are you all right here for a while?”
    “Perfectly.”
    Ruth must never forget her position in this household, as she had been in danger of doing last night when he’d kissed her. She could not work here without meeting him ever again. The sooner she approached him and cleared the air, the better. She would demand he did not touch her again in such a way. She had her rights, and she would exercise them.
    She left the nursery with her chin in the air and her jaw set. His grace would leap on any weakness, so she must take care not to show any.
    This time she only took two wrong turnings before she found the breakfast room. What a pity the duke did not employ more servants, otherwise she