The spider moved. The pot clattered to the floor, splattering dishwater all over Leah, the clean dishes, and the spider, who skittered down the wall toward the floor as fast as his many legs could carry him. Letting out another bloodcurdling shriek, Leah ran for the kitchen and collided with a solid, muscled, male body in the scullery doorway.
“Help,” she gasped into Avery’s face, completely uncaring that her voice was thin and panicked. “There’s a huge spider, and it was too close to me, and it ran and I don’t know where it went.”
He looked like she’d just grabbed an unexpected handful of Mr. Happy, but she couldn’t do anything about that. The irrational fear completely blocked logic from her mind as she climbed Avery’s body like a well-muscled ladder. Looking over her shoulder to make sure the spider hadn’t followed, she twined her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and held on for dear life.
He’d known the lass for less than a day, and she’d just wound herself around him like the crust on a meat pie. She wasn’t an overly fleshy girl, but she was surprisingly heavy when she clung to him like a petrified and hissing cat. Though his first instinct was to shove her away, breaking the unexpected and—if he was quite honest, painful—contact, he repressed it with difficulty. Spreading his feet apart to give him more balance, he carefully began to peel her from his body, making sure to move slowly and methodically, both to prevent distressing her further and causing his bruised body greater discomfort. Her panicked state would not facilitate his swift release.
“Stoppit, Avery, please. Holy shit, it’s coming this way!”
She clung to him tighter, burying her face in his neck. The measured pace of his removal gave him ample opportunity to feel the soft vise of her thighs around his hips, the press of her breasts against his chest. The scent of sweet perfume invaded his senses, and tendrils of yellow hair tickled his cheek. The heavy ache in his bones accompanied a deep tingling of desire at the base of his spine.
“Miss Ramsey, release me.” His voice was firm if muffled by the mobcap she’d pressed against his cheek. For every finger he removed from its grip at the back of his neck, another grabbed hold. “Now.” He mustn’t be seen with her this way; it would ruin her. His unease was growing into a creature that resembled her panic at the sight of the spider. He had to break their contact quickly. He could not harm her reputation, not when she’d been so kind to him.
“I can’t. Kill it, please.”
His voice was angrier than he’d intended, but he could not temper his response. “How am I to kill anything with you clinging to me like a vulture on a rotted corpse?”
“Ugh,” she said, loosening her hold enough to look him in the eyes. Her delicate nose wrinkled in disgust. “What a gross visual.”
With barely disguised relief, he grabbed her around the waist and turned, pulling her free and setting her in a chair with a soft thump. His security was tempered with another, stranger sense of loss. How odd.
“Where is it? Did you kill it yet?” She peered around his hip as if looking for a brigand to come despoil her instead of a tiny spider.
“Wait there a moment.”
He turned away from her and straightened his clothing. Scanning the stone floor beneath his feet, he stepped slowly.
“There it is! Oh my God, there it is by that bag.”
Instead of examining the tiny spider that was making its way up the side of a sack of flour, Avery looked over his shoulder at Miss Ramsey. She’d clapped both hands over her eyes, drawing her feet up beneath her as if to keep them away from the slavering fangs of the bloodthirsty spider. It would have been humorous had her fear not been so real.
Taking pity on her, he knocked the spider from the bag onto a small piece of kindling, intending to usher the blighter outside.
“Don’t take it on a transatlantic cruise, just squish it, for chrissakes!” Her choked voice chastised him.
Ignoring her, Avery walked slowly, turning the kindling to keep the spider from falling or jumping free. Shoving the kitchen door open with his knee, he bent down and deposited the spider in the bush beside the stoop.
“There, lad. Mind you stay clear of the kitchen and Miss Ramsey. I’ll not be allowed to spare your life a second time.”
He smiled as the small creature disappeared into the darkened foliage. The door’s hinges creaked as he pulled it shut.
She sat in the same position, feet tucked beneath her and hands plastered over her eyes.
“Is it safe?”
“It is. He will trouble you no longer, miss.”
Avery watched as the tension slowly ebbed from her fingertips, her hands, then her arms and shoulders. Her feet slid to the floor, and her whole body melted like warmed candle wax. The corner of her mouth turned down, her cheeks were pale, and her demeanor was that of one utterly defeated.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking down at the floor. “Snakes I can handle. Mice are fine. I know it’s stupid, I know, but those damn spiders scare the crap out of me.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry.”
His arms ached but not from the beating he’d taken. He didn’t know why. Never before had he felt the urge to do something, to ease her discomfort, to shelter her by…holding her in his arms? No. The thought was insupportable. She had come here for the duke, and he could not stand in her way.
Abruptly turning away, Avery cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “It is of no consequence.” Keeping his gaze trained on a stack of bowls, he fought to regain his composure. What had this woman done to him?
“I hate to even ask you this.” Her voice was thin and small. “Would you mind checking the scullery? To see if it had any, er, friends in there.”
Without comment, Avery turned and walked into the scullery.
Pots and dishes were piled everywhere, mostly clean but for a pile of largish pots to one side of the washbasin. He stooped to pick up a half-scrubbed pot from the stones of the floor. This must have been the crash he’d heard when entering the kitchen. He set the pot upright by the basin and examined the corners of the room.
“There is no sign of any eight-legged compatriots, madam. I should think you are safe.”
“Are you sure?” Her pale face peered around the corner of the doorjamb.
“Quite certain.”
She entered the room slowly, eyes darting this way and that, as if she didn’t quite trust his report. He said not a word as she moved with arms crossed tightly over her middle to stand in the center of the room.
“Thank you.” She didn’t look up at him as she spoke. “Again, I’m really sorry about that. I just can’t handle spiders. I’m not normally such a wimp, so please don’t think I can’t do this, okay?”
“What do you mean?”
She gestured to the mound of dishes. “I know you and Cook are risking a lot by getting me this job. I can handle it, I promise. I don’t want you to think because I wigged out over a huge, monstrously awful spider that I can’t hack this job.” She nodded and straightened her spine. “I’m kind of a bad ass, when I need to be.”
He smothered the smile her odd words brought to his face. “I have no doubt that you are.” He turned to leave the room.
“Hey, where are you going?”
His feet stilled, and he looked back at her. She stood tall, but uncertainty still shadowed her eyes.
“I missed the evening meal. I had intended to find food.”
“Oh,” she said. “Okay.” She turned back to her washbasin, and he moved to leave the room but stopped when she spoke again. Her voice was soft, uncertain.
“You could eat in here if you wanted. I’ve got to finish these pots before I go to bed, and it wouldn’t be so lonely if you were in here. You don’t have to talk to me or anything, if you don’t want to. Just be here, if you wanted to, that is.” She looked over her shoulder at him, and her wide, anxious eyes softened something in his chest.
