he’d discover as soon as he figured out how to open the puzzle box. Simon harbored no doubts that the letter he himself sought was exactly what the intruder was looking for. Genevieve had to know where it was, and based on her reluctance to return to her home, he’d wager it was still somewhere in the cottage.
Yet, if the letter was important enough for her to remove it from the box, why wouldn’t she bring it with her? Had she done so? He considered for several seconds, then decided no. She clearly was aware the letter was connected to the break-in-she knew the box was missing. Which meant the letter represented danger. He couldn’t see her bringing something like that here, where it could place Baxter in further harm’s way. Simon would wager all he owned that the letter remained in her cottage-in whatever fiendishly clever hiding place she’d fashioned for it.
“In fact,” he continued, “I think you’d best plan on remaining at least one more night. I also think someone should watch the cottage, in case the man does return.”
“I agree, and I volunteer,” said Baxter. “I’d like nothin’ better than to get my hands on the bastard wot hit me.”
“Excellent. I propose you take the day watch, and I’ll take the night,” Simon said to him. “That way one of us will always be with Genevieve.” It was far more likely the intruder would return at night, which would afford Simon hours of uninterrupted time to conduct his own search-a brilliant solution. Besides, Baxter would never agree to leave Genevieve alone with him all night.
Baxter turned to Genevieve. “That agreeable to you?”
She appeared relieved. “Yes, provided you both promise to be very careful.”
Baxter nodded then turned back to Simon. “It’s agreed. I’ll bring home supplies from the cottage when I return this evening so we don’t all starve. How have ye not done so already?”
“I’ve taken my meals in the village. And it’s not as if there is no food here. The pantry does contain the basics.” Not that he knew how to put them together to actually make something of them. But hell, he was certainly capable of smearing jam and honey on biscuits if he grew hungry between meals.
“Not much more than that.” Baxter’s gaze flicked to the knife Simon still held. “You plannin’ to stab someone?”
“Just a precaution. I wasn’t certain you both were safe.”
“We’re safe, and breakfast is ready.” Baxter’s gaze raked over Simon, then he crossed his meaty arms over his barrel chest. “I’ll wait ’til ye get some clothes on before I leave.”
Simon glanced down. He’d completely forgotten his state of undress. “Very well. I’ll also pen a note to the magistrate telling him about last night’s break-in. I think it best if you deliver it-that way you can give him your personal account of your attack.”
Baxter jerked his head in agreement. “I’ll visit him before I begin my watch on the cottage.”
Thanks to the fire Baxter had built in the hearth, there was hot water. Simon carried a half-filled pail back to his bedchamber with Beauty trotting at his heels. After they entered his room, Beauty promptly began chewing on his boot and he quickly washed, then shaved-an act he was by no means expert at. His valet had never so much as nicked him, a claim Simon couldn’t make. But since a steward wouldn’t employ a valet, he’d had to learn how to shave himself, and not cut his own throat while doing so.
Twenty minutes later, freshly shaved-with only two nicks-and cleanly dressed-although wearing one boot that bore a row of tooth marks and looked decidedly more worse for the wear than the other-and carrying the note he’d written to the magistrate, he reentered the kitchen. To his surprise Baxter placed a plate on the table before him along with a cup of tea.
“Best I could do with wot were here,” the giant muttered.
“Thank you, Baxter.” He tasted the ham, eggs and thinly sliced potatoes and nodded. “Delicious.” He was tempted to ask Baxter if he’d started the fire in the hearth with the flames that seemed to shoot from his eyeballs every time he glared at Simon, but as it didn’t appear that a sense of humor was one of the giant’s better qualities, Simon decided silence was the wiser strategy.
He watched Genevieve as he ate, unable to pull his gaze from where she crouched by the hearth, petting Beauty. Simon noted that she once again wore gloves, and he determined that today would be the day he’d find out why. Beauty flopped onto her back, paws dangling in the air, in a shameless petition for belly-rubbing. Sophia observed the proceedings from the windowsill through narrowed eyes.
Genevieve laughed at Beauty’s antics and tickled her gloved fingers over the dog’s belly, much to the canine’s delight. Simon’s own abdomen tingled, recalling the feel of Genevieve’s hands exploring him-touching, stroking, caressing, pushing him to the brink of madness. Whatever ailment or injury her hands might suffer from, their touch was pure magic.
As if she felt the weight of his regard, she looked up and their gazes met. Laughter still lurked in her eyes and for several seconds Simon simply couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything save stare. Bloody hell, she was lovely. And damn if his heart rate didn’t quicken at the prospect of spending the entire day with her.
“I’ll be on my way,” Baxter said. Simon pulled his gaze away from Genevieve and watched the giant man untie the apron from around his waist. Baxter looked at Genevieve. “Anything I can get for you before I leave?”
“No, thank you. But if you could bring back a fresh gown from the cottage, I’d appreciate it.”
“Done.” He turned to Simon and scowled. “If any harm comes to her ye’ll be answerin’ to me. And I can promise ye won’t like doin’ so.” With that he tossed down the apron, snatched up the note Simon had written, and stomped from the room. Seconds later the front door slammed shut.
Simon cleared his throat. “He certainly knows how to make an exit.”
“He’s very-”
“Protective. Yes, I know. Should I be foolish enough to forget, I’m certain they’ll be finding pieces of me all over Little Longstone. I don’t believe I’ve ever met such an…outspoken servant.”
A bit of a chill entered her eyes. “That’s because he’s much more than a servant. He’s my friend. More like a brother actually.”
“Yes, I can see that.” The spy in him-the one concerned with saving his neck from the hangman’s noose- coughed to life, demanding he grab the opening she’d so neatly handed him. This was his chance to question her regarding her relationship with Baxter, find out all he could about her. But as it had from the first moment he’d seen her, the man in him, the one who desired her to the point of distraction, won out. He wanted her. Needed her. Now. Everything else could wait.
Setting aside his napkin, he stood and walked toward her, trying to ignore the little voice inside his head chanting
“I was worried when I awoke and discovered you gone.”
“Baxter is an early riser, and given last night’s occurrence, I knew he’d tap on my door to make certain I was all right. I thought it prudent to return to my own chamber before he did so.” Her lips twitched. “Lest we should find pieces of you all over Little Longstone.”
“Not to worry. He may outweigh me, but I’ve a few tricks of my own.”
“Yes, I know.” Her gaze flicked to his mouth. “You demonstrated them last night.”
Bloody hell, she might as well have set a match to him. “Not all of them,” he murmured. He brushed the pad of his thumb over her lush lower lip and spoke the simple truth. “It was an incredible night.”
“Yes, it was.”
“One I’d like to repeat.” Another simple truth.
Her gaze searched his for several seconds, then she nodded. “As would I.”
He released a breath he hadn’t even realized he held. Only a few hours had passed since he’d held her, kissed her, but it suddenly felt like years. And as if he would suffocate if he didn’t touch her.
Stepping forward, he erased the distance between them and drew her into his arms. He brushed his mouth over hers, half amused, half irritated that such a feather-light touch ignited him so. Her lips parted and his tongue slipped into the silky heat of her mouth. He felt as if he were sinking into that same dark pool of pleasure in which he’d drowned last night. His hands roamed her back, molding her soft curves to him. Need, hot and urgent, swamped him, vibrating a groan in his throat.
“Genevieve…” Her name came out in a husky rasp as he broke off their kiss to drag his open mouth down the
