The Earl's Spark, page 2
How would someone describe her? Short of breathtaking, I have no words.
Warmth flooded him as the hairs rose on his arms and the nape of his neck. Flushed, he struggled to catch his breath. Never had he had such a visceral reaction to a woman before.
His nerves were on fire and it wouldn’t take much more than the slightest of sparks to set him ablaze.
How was it possible for a woman dressed in the drabbest of colors to somehow be the brightest one in the room? He moved his mouth a few times but words didn’t and wouldn’t come. Who was this woman?
What is wrong with me?
“Looking for you, Fyre.” Elonne tugged at his collar. “Lord Edais wants an explanation about his books.”
Well, shit. His bookkeeper was a woman.
Gwen, better known as Fyre to the majority of the people on the island, swallowed with deliberate measure. She was going to kill her brother. Assuming this English lord didn’t kill the both of them. How dare he bring that man to one of her businesses? And all without giving her a chance to prepare.
She’d managed to avoid him since he’d come in and taken over Hawk’s Cove. Grudgingly, she could admit, he looked much better now. He was dressed more like the men who lived here than someone about to attend the opera in London.
Or so I would assume. I have never been to an opera nor seen anyone actually dressed to attend one.
His sandy brown hair had lightened as he’d spent time in the strong sunlight. But it was those eyes, gray and sharp, that got to her. He was thinner than some of the men she knew, but it wasn’t because of sickness. She had watched him work.
Every chance she could.
Okay, perhaps a few times.
Remembering herself, she executed a curtsey. “Good day, my lord.”
Her hands were slick all of a sudden and she found herself holding her breath. Not advisable.
A low grumble rolled through the room and part of her wanted to lounge in the warmth it gave her, but another part of her wanted to run. Far. Fast. Without looking back.
This man is dangerous.
“Really?” His accent was sharp and yet she found she didn’t mind so much how his words fell from his mouth to the air for her to hear. “That is what you say to me? Nothing about how it is the two of you have been deceiving me, doing who knows what with my books?”
Panic flared. The fear of losing her life hadn’t lessened. She hadn’t been given permission to touch his books. Not only that, but her brother was in danger as well.
Grateful there wasn’t anyone else in the building, she made her way from behind the counter.
“Begging your pardon, my lord.” She kept her eyes down.
His big feet stepped into view. In her periphery, she watched her brother move as well and she flicked her fingers toward him, holding him off. No matter what the consequences, she knew Elonne would never allow this man to lay hands on her.
In either of the ways her brain was trying to figure out—pain or pleasure.
He snorted in disbelief. “How long have you been doing them?”
She knew better than to tarry with her response. “Since a week after you left. Elonne got ill after picking up more time in the fields to make sure none of your crops went bad and I took over. It is easier for me than him, but please do not punish him for my behavior. I made the choice and decision to do this, not he.”
Fyre pushed out a short breath and lifted her gaze to find his gray eyes waiting for her. She couldn’t make out what she read in their depths.
Her brother frowned and made another move forward. Again, she waved him off. In the grand scheme of things, he was far more important than she was. He could do the physical labor she couldn’t. And he had a wife and children to take care of. For all intents and purposes, she was alone and expendable.
“You have to explain this to me. I cannot make sense of your system.”
“Yes, my lord.” She nearly held her breath once more. Perhaps she would get out of this with her life intact.
He walked to the door, where he glanced over his shoulder at her and lifted one eyebrow, impatience stamped all over his features.
Funny how that didn’t detract from his attractiveness. That hawklike nose took him from perfectly pretty and handsome to rugged and slightly dangerous.
“Why are you still there?”
“I am working, my lord. I am here for another three hours.”
He scowled and crossed his arms as he pivoted back to her. “And then?”
It is like he knew I would try to avoid this today.
“And then I will show up at your home to explain my system.” And hope you do not call for my death.
He grunted and walked out. “Let us return, Elonne.”
Her brother shot her a concerned look as he hurried off after the man who had all the power.
The moment the door closed behind her brother, she exhaled and made her way back to the counter, legs wobbling in both relief and for the simple fact that because of her interaction with the earl, they had decided they weren’t strong enough to keep her up any longer. She took a few moments to get some stability back, then retreated around the counter once more.
Legs still shaky like she’d been out toiling in the heat all day, she pulled out the stool and sat with a grateful sigh. Rubbing her chest to try to ease the ache that had filled her lungs, she took several deep breaths.
Tears burned the backs of her eyes and she tried to keep them at bay. Her hand only shook a little as she pulled the book she’d been about to start working on when he had come in out from beneath the counter.
He even smelled different than the other men she was around. Something deep and earthy had floated from him to her nose.
I do not need to think about that man any more than I already do. Especially since she thought about him a lot.
With a harsh mental reprimand, she put her wavering attention to the work before her and began getting Mr. Larson’s books in order. She tended to do his accounting today as his shop was slower aside from people coming in to pick up packages.
Since she only had two packages left to be picked up, she figured she’d get quite a lot done and not have to come back to catch him up. She was newer to his place and had been pushing hard to get his information in order.
* * * *
As she’d predicted, it had been a quiet day. She’d set up a few appointments for some future customers who wanted time with Mr. Larson. Five minutes before she was to lock up, the door opened once more and in walked another of the plantation owners, who also had a shop in town.
Albie Caulfield.
His black hair never had a strand out of place. Despite living on a tropical island, he was disturbingly pale.
Locking the book away, she turned and dipped a curtsey. “Good evening, Mr. Caulfield.”
His grin didn’t set off the same flock of flutters she’d acquired when the earl leveled his gray eyes on her, but Albie’s smile was one that had her skin crawling. Even so, she didn’t show her unease.
“Gwen.” He swaggered toward her. “You’re always such a delightful sight for my eyes. When are you going to come work for me alone? You know I will make room for you in my house.”
Seeing his package, she slid to her right and picked it up, her smile never slipping.
“As always, Mr. Caulfield, thank you for your offer, but I will have to continue to decline. I do not have time to take on another set of books full time. I can help a bit here and there until you find a replacement.”
His dark blue eyes flashed, hands flexed, and nostrils flared. But like hers, his smile never faltered.
“I will keep asking.” He reached for her hand after she had placed the package on the counter between them.
It took a few times before she tugged free. She didn’t like being here alone with this man. While he never did anything definitive, every instinct she had demanded she run far and fast from him—and not in the same way that thought had jumped into her mind when she had been around the earl.
“It is an honor to be requested.” His gaze burned into her. “Is there something else I could do for you, Mr. Caulfield?”
“When are you going to call me Albie?” He leaned against the counter.
“That isn’t proper, sir.”
He came closer and she fought not to retreat from how he pushed into her personal space.
“It is only us here, Gwenie. We could have some fun.”
“Am I interrupting?”
Mr. Caulfield jumped back, putting more space between them. She flinched on the inside but had been raised not to show anything, so she acted as if the sudden appearance of one Phillip Vallence, Earl of Edais, hadn’t shocked the hell out of her.
“Good evening, my lord.”
Another curtsey for him.
Albie’s eyebrow shot up at that. “You’re the new Earl of Edais?”
From below her lowered lids, she watched the cold, condescending expression on the earl’s face.
“I’ve been an earl for a long time. So no, I’m not a new earl. I’ve been one since my birth. Who are you?” The disdain could be tasted in the air it was so thick.
“Albie Caulfield. I have a smaller plantation on the other side of town.” He puffed out his chest. “And a shop here in town.”
Those gray eyes didn’t soften one bit. “And you are here for what reason?”
In fact, there was a thicker slather of arrogance on the earl’s words.
Albie swallowed but didn’t back down. “I came to pick up a package and catch up with this woman.”
Flint-hard eyes pushed into her, searching for something. “You will be the reason she is late to my home. We have business to conduct.”
Her entire body flushed at his words, even though she knew there wasn’t anything remotely sexual about them.
Albie didn’t move away. He instead looked at her. “Gwen?”
“I am helping his lordship out with some of his books. I said I would be by tonight after I finished here.”
The man stepped closer and gripped her arm. “I do not like this. It is not proper for you to be alone with him. And how is it you have time to do his books but cannot be bothered to assist me full time?”
She pulled on her arm but he didn’t let go. At least, not until the earl spoke up once more.
“Release her.”
Two words. Issued with cold efficiency. Two words that were followed without hesitation. Jaw clenched, Albie picked up his package and walked to the door. Once there, he turned back.
“I will see you tomorrow, Gwen.” His gaze hardened. “My lord.”
Then they were alone, and unlike when it had been her and Albie, this time her body wasn’t letting her forget it had been too long since a man had touched her in a good way. Or in any way.
“I do not appreciate being kept waiting so you can have some rendezvous with a man.”
His words snapped her head up, instant rage washing over her as his meaning sank in. She forgot his title and station, which hovered so far above her own she couldn’t even see them when she looked up, and stepped around the counter and into his personal space, stabbing him in the chest with her finger.
“You know nothing about me so you should keep your uninformed and incorrect assumptions to yourself.” She bared her teeth and wanted to snap them in his direction.
“I know you told me you would be on your way after you finished work and yet, when I walk in here, what I find is you not working but getting cozy with a man. What should I think?”
“That not all of us are like you Englanders. I do not throw myself at every man who crosses my path. Not to mention, I had not closed yet. He was the last customer I had to give a package to. Now, I am done.”
“I never said you threw yourself at every man. I know that is not true.” He stepped closer. His torso was hard beneath her finger and she had this strangest urge to settle her entire hand against him and stroke. Pet. Indulge. “Because if it was, we would be having a very different conversation, Fyre.”
Her knees wobbled at the way he said her name—low and drawn out with a distinctly sexual timbre.
Being unable to begin to quantify how this man, this outsider, had affected her made her nervous. He made her nervous.
Like he could see beneath the shell she put around herself before she ever left the house. Heck, even at home she maintained it. But this man, the way his gray eyes bore into her, like he alone could see beneath it and to the true heart of her being…
What was he discovering? Lust? Desire? Longing? All of them, for sure.
“I will be along shortly, my lord.”
“I will escort you there and after we go over the books, I’ll take you”—the slightest of pauses—“home.”
“I do not require such a thing.”
His grin twisted her gut into knots. “Lucky for all involved, I did not ask.” He tipped his head. “I will wait for you outside. Do not tarry.”
The arrogant earl was gone before she could begin to form an argument as to why she would not be riding to his home with him.
Chapter Two
Phillip reclined in his chair, making damn sure he kept his eyes on the ledger before him. It worked.
He was most certainly not staring at and ogling the woman on the other side of the desk—a large expanse of solid wood that could handle him laying her across it and allowing himself the indulgence of her body.
Shifting in his chair, he subtly adjusted his hardness. He’d not been this attracted to anyone in a long while. Had he been a monk?
Certainly not, but he wasn’t often close to forgetting his sense because of a woman being near to him. And the shit part about this, she was only here because he’d insisted. Not because she wanted to be, or was attracted to him.
The drink on his left wasn’t going to be enough to quench the thirst that Fyre had aroused within him.
Thank God his determination to not look at her was working.
She sat there in utter silence. Not fidgeting or moving in any way to make him think she wasn’t comfortable or had to get somewhere else. She was, well, a statue.
Truthfully, he didn’t need to have her here for the moment—she had been crisp and clear in her breakdown of his money and her notations. He just lingered, not wanting to be apart from her.
“Do you have a copy of the books from when you first took over?”
Without a sound, she rose and walked across the room to a closed cupboard. He bit his lower lip as she opened it only to push up on her toes, reaching over her head. The thrust of her breasts against the thin material of her dress wasn’t helping the rod in his breeches.
Eyes locked on her figure, lingering over the swell of her ass that made his hands itch to grab it as he sank between her legs, he rubbed the heel of one hand over his erection, a low moan slipping from his lips.
He could not look later.
If she heard him, she didn’t take any notice of it. Just carried the book back to him and turned it so the pages would be the correct way once she placed it down. The moment it was on the desktop she retreated to her chair.
“Thank you.”
“Of course, my lord.”
The door was open and many staff members moved around, occasionally peeking in to see if they needed anything.
He wasn’t a fool, well aware that part of the reason for their constant visits was they looked for gossip to spread, but more was they looked out for Fyre. He saw the affection many of those on his staff had for the young woman.
Because he wanted to keep her around, he ground down on the feverish sensations she created in him and made sure all behavior was above board. No matter how much he wanted to brush his lips along her skin. Stroke those curves. Sweep her hair away from her neck, exposing the small space where it met her shoulder and kiss it, push his tongue there and taste her.
He longed for her to tremble in his arms as he whispered what he was going to do to her after she came for him, around his fingers, which would be deep in her wetness.
Phillip coughed and reached for his drink, needing something because he was about to burst free of his breeches. She looked up from the book she’d been going through and making notations in.
“Everything okay, my lord?”
“Phillip.”
She lifted her eyebrows. Not one but both of them.
“Call me Phillip.”
“I cannot, my lord. That would not be proper.” She dropped her gaze back to the pages before her.
You can and you will. Maybe not tonight, but you will scream my name, Fyre.
His housekeeper walked in, a tray of food in hand. Fyre turned her head to see who it was, then went back to the book and—because he’d not been able to pull his gaze from her yet—he saw some scarred skin along her neck ever so briefly before her hair covered it once more. He blinked and took another look at the ledger before him.
“Your meal, my lord.” The tray was set beside him.
He grunted as he tried to make sense of the numbers from before she’d taken over. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked over to the items waiting for him and scowled.
“What is this?”
“The food you had requested be brought to you this evening, my lord.”
Lifting his head, he stared at the woman. Her blue eyes held his but only for a tick of time.
“Where is food for her?” He stabbed a finger in Fyre’s direction.
The woman bumbled and blinked a few times before squaring her shoulders. “You did not say you wished to eat with your guest.”
Phillip bit back, barely, the snarl that shot from his throat as fast as his own horse had unseated him the first time he’d met Ciara and her big cat.
“I should not have to say it. We are in here working and for you to bring me food but nothing for her does not make me happy.”
The housekeeper turned her eyes to Fyre. “What can I bring you?”
Fyre closed the book she’d been working in and rose. “Nothing, thank you. I have to get heading home.” She gave the housekeeper a small nod, one he noticed wasn’t returned, before she glanced back to him. “I can be by in two days, my lord, if you would still like me to be of assistance.”
