It seemed like a year since she’d last spoken to him and yet it was barely a week. A week when she’d resolutely gone about her work and tried to forget about her charismatic employer and to concentrate on her job. But Titus’s presence seemed to permeate every aspect of his stately home. Everything revolved around the Duke and the Duke’s wishes.
Occasionally, she’d seen him striding around the house but she’d spoken to him only once, when the housekeeper had asked her to take two glasses of whisky along to the Morning Room. Roxy had found Titus sitting talking to his estate manager and he had glanced up when she’d walked in and said, ‘Ah, Roxanne,’ in a way which had made his companion give him a sharp look. Her hands had been tr
embling as she’d put the tray down and when she had straightened up it had been to find his eyes fixed very firmly on her legs …
Her hands were trembling now as she put the wine glass down and tried to compose her face into a nonchalant expression, but it wasn’t easy. Not when he was wearing an outrageously close-fitting pair of jodhpurs, which clung like syrup to his narrow hips and taut thighs.
Roxy looked up into his smoky grey eyes and felt an instant kick of lust. ‘Yes, here I am,’ she said lightly.
‘Had any breakages yet?’ His sardonic gaze travelled towards the glass, which was now sitting safely on the table.
‘I’m afraid I dropped two just this morning,’ she answered blithely and saw his face go slightly pale.
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Funnily enough, yes, I am. I might be getting dazed from staring at so much Georgian crystal, but so far—I’ve managed to keep them all intact.’
‘Good.’ There was a pause while he tried not to stare at the soft curve of her lips. Or stop to ask himself why he had deliberately come looking for her after vowing that he would continue to stay away. Perhaps because she had been haunting his nights with the kind of hot and erotic dreams which were usually the province of sexually frustrated teenage boys. And that was crazy when there was an instant solution to his dilemma, if dilemma it was. He could pick up the phone and have someone here by the end of the afternoon, if he wanted to. There were legions of women—beautiful women of his own class—who would have been overjoyed to receive such a summons from the Duke of Torchester.
Yet wasn’t it frustrating to realise that currently there was nobody who turned him on the way that Roxy Carmichael did? He was obsessed by her—or, rather, by the thought of having sex with her—and was wondering whether it was worth fighting a battle with himself any longer. Because it was pretty clear from the darkening of her beautiful blue eyes that the feeling was mutual, so why not give into the powerful chemistry which was sizzling between them? Yes, she was a servant and he had vowed that he wasn’t ever going to stray into that rather dangerous territory again, but sometimes temptation was a little too much for a man to resist …
He swallowed as he noticed that the buttons of her uniform were gaping slightly to accommodate the luscious swell of her breasts. ‘You’ve … settled in, I hope?’
‘Yes.’ Roxy gave a polite little smile. ‘Thank you.’
With an effort, Titus forced himself to ask the type of questions which any employer would ask of his workers—rather than the ones which were hovering on the edge of his lips. He wanted to ask if she realised that he’d seen her yesterday and she’d been on her knees, scrubbing away at a spot of something on the floor in the long corridor of the south wing. And that the garish pink uniform had been stretched tightly over her bottom and it had been as much as he could do not to go over there and … and …
‘And do you like working here?’ he enquired unevenly.
Roxy tried not to squirm beneath his smouldering gaze, but it was proving pretty tough. When he was looking at her like that, she wanted to put down her specialist dusting cloth and go over and curl her fingers around his neck. She wanted to stand on tiptoe and to kiss him. And she wanted a lot more besides. She wondered what that virile body would feel like if it was pressing against her. How it would feel to have Titus Alexander take her into his arms and shower her with kisses …
Oh, for heaven’s sake! Get real, Roxy! Furiously, she made the image dissolve. He’s paying you to do a mundane job and you’re here because he feels some lingering sense of responsibility towards you. He hasn’t got a glass slipper hidden in his back pocket, so forget your foolish fantasies. You might want him and he might want you—but having sex with the Duke of Torchester would be the worst thing you could possibly do. So stop flirting.
‘It’s okay,’ she said, thinking that a touch of indifference might drive him away.
Titus scowled, because surely that attitude of hers was another indicator of her general unsuitability to be his lover. Even if it wasn’t exactly her dream job—surely she could have been gracious enough to make some comment about the beauty of his ancestral home. Not to shrug her shoulders as if he were forcing her to work in some sort of hovel. A spark of familial pride made him suck in a breath of quiet displeasure. ‘You show remarkably little enthusiasm for one of the finest houses in England,’ he remarked.
‘Maybe that’s because I haven’t really seen much of its finery—I’ve been too busy working.’
‘Perhaps you might like to go upstairs and polish these glasses in the Grand Saloon?’ he questioned sarcastically.
She met his eyes. ‘I might.’
Titus felt his lips quirking into a reluctant smile as she looked at him with that mutinous expression on her face as if she were the Queen of Sheba! Did she have any idea how outrageous her behaviour was? Maybe she thought that her one-time fame entitled her to certain concessions and that a different set of rules would apply to her. Or maybe she still thought of herself as some kind of goddess—even though today her hair was pulled back into a rather unforgiving ponytail and she wore very little make-up. Still, nobody could deny her inherent grace as she lifted her chin in a defiant tilt, which showcased her long neck. And the way she was staring up at him from between her lashes was making her blue eyes look curiously innocent.
But she wasn’t innocent, he reminded himself grimly. He knew that, even if her sexual history hadn’t been so well documented in the press. She had shown herself capable of using men—stupid men like Martin Murray. Even if she hadn’t actually slept with him, she had still manipulated him to get herself a cheap place to live. And Titus didn’t trust women like that. He didn’t like women like that.
If only he could get her out of his head! Or work out what it was about her which had so captured his imagination. The thought of her had been plaguing the hell out of him for days now, even though he’d done his best to keep his distance.
Yet inevitably, he’d seen her around. He had walked past the Statue Gallery the other day when she’d been busy dusting the bust of one of his ancestors—a rather ruthless army general, with a reputation for having been a legendary lover. She’d been oblivious to his presence, and Titus had watched Roxanne run her finger down over the marble cheekbones, to linger at last on the statue’s mouth, tracing the line of the cold lips as if they were made of flesh and blood. And for one highly charged moment he had imagined her touching his lips like that.
Another time, he had watched her walking from her cottage over to the great house from the high vantage point of his horse’s saddle. He had seen the way that the winter wind had whipped through her ponytail, so that it had streamed behind her like a pale, silken banner. She had moved with a natural grace—all the more remarkable because, once again, she had been completely unaware that he’d been watching her. For one heady and insane moment, he had imagined galloping towards her and hauling her up onto the saddle and then taking her away for an afternoon of pure bliss. But he hadn’t slept with a servant since he’d been a teenager and he had vowed never to repeat it after the ensuing uproar. The serving classes were too emotional, he had decided. They mistook lust for love. Or, rather, they used the word love to justify their lust. Titus felt his lips harden into a mirthless smile. Why couldn’t they just be honest and admit there was no such thing?
He noticed that she had now rather self-consciously resumed her glass polishing, even though the stiff set of her shoulders indicated that she was still sensitive to his presence. Would it hurt to be alone with her for a while? he wondered. To give into a desire which it seemed almost criminal to deny? Especially as she was no blushing innocent. Why, she was probably as sexually experienced as he was!
‘Would you like me to show you the house?’ he questioned carelessly. ‘I mean, properly.’
Roxy looked up from her polishing and raised her eyebrows. ‘As opposed to improperly?’