Taming the Beast

Abruptly, she recalled Sam telling her she needed to be more enthusiastic in bed to compensate for her flaws. She flinched before snorting aloud. Sam had been an ass, and he’d been all wrong for her. She needed to remember that any time one of his small barbs worked its way through her memory. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to think about Sam much at all. Now that she was out of the city, and she had changed her phone number, she was unlikely to have to deal with him again.

That thought left her in a cheerful frame of mind, and digging into the books only improved her mood. Duncan and Nick hadn’t exaggerated when they’d told her it was a mess. Nothing was in order. Someone hadn’t even taken the time to alphabetize the titles, let alone group them under the Dewey Decimal System for the nonfiction works.

Someone had kept them clean though, because each book she pulled out randomly to determine just how out of place it was came out clean and dust free. She was pleased someone had taken care of the books, but puzzled by why they hadn’t cared enough to restore some semblance of order.

There was a large grandfather clock in the library, and abruptly, she realized it was four-thirty when it chimed again. She had lost herself in the project and the pleasure of all the books. There were so many first editions that it made her head swoon, and they had obscure works in every classification.

Realizing dinner was going to be served soon, she stood up, getting off the floor where she’d been seated to examine a shelf full of books on the occult. Those had appeared more thumbed-through than the others, and she wondered if one of her employers had an interest in the subject, or perhaps it had been one of their ancestors. This library was clearly at least as old as Midvale Manor itself, which she pegged to be at a few hundred years old.

Dusting her hands down her pants, though they were remarkably clean after dealing with all the old books, she left the library and returned to her room. There wasn’t time for a shower, but she did spend a few minutes freshening up and applying a light layer of makeup.

Baylee debated about changing for dinner, but ultimately decided against it. For one thing, she was short on time, and for another, she hadn’t brought anything fancy. She had one little black dress with her, but after a day of driving and exploring the library, she really didn’t feel like expending the extra effort to dress up just to eat.

She might feel awkward

or out of place if she arrived in the dining room and found her employers dressed to the nines, but she decided she’d rather underdress than overdress. Her khaki pants and sensible pink button-down shirt would just have to do.

It was surprisingly easy to navigate her way back to the main floor, though she had been concerned about getting lost. When she reached the first floor, she found Nick and Duncan lounging against the wall, clearly waiting for her. She was startled by their thoughtfulness and smiled at the both of them. She was also relieved to note they were as equally casual as she was. In fact, they still wore the clothes they had worn earlier, and that was certainly nothing to complain about. If all jeans fit all men like that, they would be her new favorite clothing.

Each held out a hand to her, and she was indecisive on whose to take as she walked forward. They solved that problem by both taking her hand and leading her to the left, down another long hallway. “I wasn’t expecting an escort.”

“We didn’t want you to get lost. Midvale Manor is ridiculously large,” said Duncan.

“Hey, it’s just right,” said Nick, though there was laughter in his voice.

“His relatives were a bit pretentious,” said Duncan in a pseudo-whisper.

“Says the second son of Laird Fitzhugh. Didn’t you say your family’s castle was at least twice the size of Midvale Manor?”

“My ancestor’s castle,” said Duncan, his gaze meeting Nick’s.

She wasn’t certain what message was conveyed, but Nick nodded, and the conversation switched topics as they entered the dining room.

She’d been expecting some ridiculous monstrosity, with the table spanning fifty feet and capable of seating a hundred. Instead, it was a cozy dining room with only room for six chairs around the reasonably sized table. Before she could ask, it was like Nick had read her mind.

He said, “This is the informal dining room. There’s a formal one farther down the hall, and it seats fifty, but we never have call to use it.”

She looked around the charming space. “This is just lovely. It’s enough to be remarkable and remind me I’m in a house that has its own name, but not so ostentatious that I feel like a child sneaking over to sit at the adults’ table.”

It was only when they reached the table that she realized both men still held her hands. It had felt so natural to walk between them that she hadn’t even realized they had maintained contact long past the point when politeness dictated they could let go. As soon as they dropped their hands, she clenched hers at her sides, struggling with a sense of loss that swept through her. What was wrong with her?

Her stomach growled as she sat down, allowing Nick to push in her chair for her, and she seized on that explanation. She was simply tired and hungry from her long day, and it was making her act irrationally. That was all.

They had been seated only a moment or so when a curvy woman in her fifties entered the room, pushing a trolley. As she lifted the cloche from the first dish, the smell wafted to Baylee’s nose, and she almost sighed in pleasure. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious.

A moment later, the woman placed a plate before her. She caught her eye and smiled her thanks.

“Mrs. Farley, this is Baylee Edwards, who will be staying with us for a while. She’s tackling the library.”

Mrs. Farley’s lips pursed lightly, but she nodded. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ms. Edwards.”

“Please call me Baylee.”

“Mrs. Farley is the genius who runs the household, so if you need anything, ask her. Of course you can ask us too, but we’re fairly incompetent when it comes to accomplishing domestic chores.”

Mrs. Farley snorted. “Lord, ain’t that the truth.” Her tone was thick with affection, and it was obvious she enjoyed a close relationship with her employers.

There weren’t extensive courses, and it was surprisingly just like a meal she would share with her friends or her roommate in her apartment in the city. Conversation was light, and she quickly discovered her employers were both charming and amusing.