Filed To Story: Alessia Mistaken as Mistress Book PDF Free
“I found it in the attic and cleaned it up myself,” he said at her questioning look. “Penelope helped with the mattress and bedding. I thought he might like a change of scenery occasionally. I won’t light a cigar while he’s here.”
His gestures couldn’t have surprised her more. She stood nearby, saying nothing.
“I had tea brought for you.”
She glanced at the tray on the corner of his massive desk.
He stepped close and observed the child in her arms. “I’ve never been around a baby before.”
She gave a little shrug. “Neither had I.”
“Well, I guess I can’t hurt him with ignorance then, can I?”
She shook her head, and tentatively handed her son over.
Nicholas accepted the infant gingerly, his arms and chest seeming to swallow the baby, and held him against his fine black coat. Alessia prayed William wouldn’t get an air bubble and spit on his clothing.
“Fix your tea,” he said.
She complied, pouring, adding lemon and cream. “Would you care for a cup?”
He shook his head and seated himself in one of the wing chairs. “Well, William, what’s life like with all those women about upstairs? You’ll need to come down often so they don’t mollycoddle you.”
Repressing a smile, Alessia carried her tea to the divan and sat.
“I don’t see how you women attribute familiar characteristics to a wee baby. He has a tiny nose, tiny ears, a tiny mouth…what color are his eyes?”
“They’re blue. Your mother says they may change, but I don’t think so.” She sipped her tea.
Nicholas observed William like a man seeing an infant for the first time. He caught one of his flailing fists and studied his fingers.
The tea, Nicholas’s soothing voice and his unthreatening mood relaxed her. She leaned back and enjoyed the tranquillity of the moment.
“His hair is so fair,” he said minutes later, bringing Alessia’s attention back. “It seems to pick up a little gold in the firelight just as yours does.”
The observation impelled her heart to leap. He’d noticed the firelight in her hair?
He moved the baby to his knees where he could study him and have his hands free. “And I guess he does have your mouth. With that little bow right there.”
He’d become familiar with the shape of her lips?
With a long finger, he touched William’s lip, and the baby moved his head and opened his mouth, seeking.
Nicholas chuckled.
Alessia stared.
He brushed one cheek gently. “I’ve never felt anything quite so soft,” he said, amazement in his tone. Then his head snapped up, his wonder striking her. “He smiled!”
She nodded, understanding the powerful effect of William’s enchanting, toothless smile.
As though captivated, he studied William for the better part of an hour, talking to him, stroking his cheek. Nicholas’s agreeable behavior, his attention to William, lulled her into imagining what it would have been like to have a husband-a real family. Someday Nicholas would have children of his own. His wife might sit here just like this and watch him with their baby. Maybe she’d knit. Maybe she’d sing.
Maybe they’d go up to their rooms together afterward and tuck their baby in.
Mrs. Trent arrived on schedule, conveniently interrupting Alessia’s wayward thoughts.
Nicholas looked from the woman to Alessia. “He doesn’t have to leave now, does he? Couldn’t you change him or whatever you need to do and leave him?”
Alessia nodded at Mrs. Trent, who left and came back with clean linens. Alessia excused her for the night and changed William in the cradle, blushing while Nicholas looked on.
“That’s all there is to it?” he asked.
“For now.”
He picked him up and held the baby a few minutes longer until he fell asleep. “I think I bored him.”
Alessia placed him in the cradle and covered him. “It was his bedtime,” she replied, laughter in her voice.
Nicholas came over to stand behind her, and she sensed his warmth, smelled the starch in his shirt, the tang of tobacco on his clothing. She couldn’t turn, for if she did, they would be face-to-face.
He reached from behind her, his chest pressing her shoulder, and smoothed William’s hair with long gentle fingers. His breath fanned her ear and sent shivers along her shoulders and down her arms. “He’s beautiful.”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she blinked furiously. Somehow it was different from having Leda say it, from hearing Kathryn say it, from thinking it herself. When Nicholas said her son was beautiful, it was a proclamation. He wasn’t a woman swayed by emotion, he wasn’t Stephen’s mother, prejudiced by her love; he was a hard-edged man who didn’t even like or trust Alessia.
At his nearness, her heartbeat quickened to a wild, unsteady rhythm. She was a fool to feel anything for this man. Up until this instant he’d never shown her a moment’s kindness. Or had he? He’d been tender in his own way, seeing to her comfort, concerning himself with her swollen ankle and carrying her to ease her leg. She could easily melt back against him and lose herself in his heat and his scent. Her reaction humiliated her, and she prayed he’d move away before he recognized what he was doing to her.
“I meant what I said earlier,” he said against her ear.
Her knees weakened, but she didn’t move.
“You made me very proud.”
“But-“
“Are you going to mention your mother?”
She nodded.
“Don’t.”
She’d expected him to rail at her over Celia. The fact that he hadn’t gave her the impression of waiting for the other shoe to drop, and she didn’t like it.
“But the floor tiles-“
“Gruver found extras in the carriage house.”
“Oh. Your mother’s planter?”
“I always thought it was rather gaudy anyway.”
“But she must have-“
“No more,” he insisted. “We’re going to let the subject rest.
Permanently.
“