Persuasion in the Pantry [Maid for More #1]

Chapter 2: Mistaken Identity

"Zarina?"

The sleep-sexy voice rumbled once again from under the covers. Verushka's eyes went wide and she stood stock still, like a deer in aim of crossbow.

With one final shift beneath the bed sheets the linen was discarded and the morning sunlight from the pane-glass window poured onto the body of an Adonis- naked. The Duke of Bexley's skin gleamed a rough hewn bronze, no doubt from all the months cavorting on the Mediterranean. His shoulders were broad, his chest and legs well muscled and his... oh my, Verushka wasn't even going to look there!

Actually, who was she kidding, it certainly wasn't the shaft of sunlight she was so interested in.

With an abrupt groan the notorious rake flung a perfect arm over his perfect face to block out the sunlight. Verushka was startled into movement by the sound, although she found herself unable to decide what to do. She still had a tray to deliver to the Dukes bedside table and she was a good five to six feet from it. However if she got any closer she may be tempted to brush past that perfect arm.

Verushka had heard the parlour maids talk of men whose bodies felt like steel encased in warm inviting flesh and she never thought much of it. It didn't make sense to her- steel, flesh- hhmph, it all sounded a bit too exaggerated for what the stable-boy was doing to the beneath-stairs maid yester-eve. But hey, who was Verushka to judge; she always found herself sleeping in the flour stack of the pantry alone. .. and yet Master Bexley's sleeping form made her feel...

Verushka may have moved while losing herself in thought because the next thing she knew- his hand was on her arse. She checked, she double checked and there was no mistaking it. Five long fingers were welded into her left buttock. Somehow Verushka had drifted, tray in hand, to the unconscious figure on the bed. The next thing she knew he had shifted, planted a hand on her and was now trying to pull her into bed.

Verushka frowned, then peered closely at him.. he certainly appeared to be asleep. Just her luck, it was probably wound into his being, to grab hold of any woman under three and thirty. Chewing on her lower lip she tried to extricate her derriere from his grasp, but ever the elegant lady Verushka was not, and she tripped on the tip of the silk coverlet and landed face down, arse up right next to the Duke.

She took a second to reassess how deep in the pigs wallow behind the stables she would have to be to even come close to the current mess she was in.

When I got up this morning I planned to wash my face, bake the bread, take a nap, then irritate Mina. NOWHERE did I say I wanted to fall into bed with a gorgeous Duke, Verushka thought to herself, and then counted herself lucky that Liara was not around to hear such blasphemy. Then with as much gentility as a beneath stairs maid could muster, Verushka tried to turn over and slide off the bed while thanking whatever power kept rakes and rogues such sound sleepers in the morning. Unfortunately for her the Gods of rogues and rakes were particularly devilish that morning and when Verushka had only just barely turned the Duke rolled over and flung an arm over her breast, as if she had lit a beacon for it to come home.

"Darling, come back to bed," The Duke whispered huskily to no one in particular, since clearly Verushka and whoever this 'Zarina' girl was, were interchangeable, Verushka thought incensed.

She pushed aside the weight of his unwanted perfect arm, threw her legs over the bed, tripped again on the infernal coverlet, and plummeted to the floor in an exasperated heap with a thud. Scrunching up her young features, resisting the urge to scream, Verushka heard a soft seductive voice inquire from above, "Are you lost?" A pair of fathomless green eyes stared down at her with a raised eyebrow and an amused smirk playing along the lines of his lips.

Verushka's mouth dropped open. To her credit she did not drool at his broad smooth chest bathed in sunlight. Instead, she managed to pull herself together with a shake of her head. "Good morning Sir. I was delivering your breakfast when I tripped, please forgive the intrusion," she replied with startling clarity even for her...especially for her. And with  that she rose from the floor with only a minor stumble, brushed herself off and headed to the door with alarming speed for one so small.

"Ah hmm," she heard the Lord clear his throat behind her. "Excuse me Miss," he called out with a throaty chuckle still soft from sleep.

Verushka stopped reluctantly, turned toward his voice and was reminded all too quickly that it was attached to a very naked body, and she shut both eyes. "Yes, Sir?" she questioned.

He paused as if he wanted to say something in particular and then asked instead- "Miss, are you well? I would be remiss if I were to let you leave without first assessing if you were not injured from your fall."

Verushka heard some rustling of bed and quickly made her reply as she backed to the door with eyes still squeezed shut, "Um...no...sir, I can assure you I am quite well."

"I find that hard to believe for someone wearing so much of my morning meal" he continued.

Verushka squeaked and threw her eyes open. She saw Cook's berry jam dripping down her left forearm, scrambled eggs on the toe of her right boot and felt something altogether odd in her hair. Worst of all she noticed the tray beside the bed holding little of the morning repast she had entered with. Sure there was some on the floor, some on the bed and some on her - but Lord Bexley could not be expected to forage for his meal. Which brought her attention to the Duke in question.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a flash of bronzed flesh and crisp linen. The Duke was walking towards her having fashioned a strange long skirt like contraption to wrap around his waist. The bed sheet hung low on his hips and fell to the floor. Holding a bunched corner of material at the waist Lord Bexley was smiling gently as he walked. He was speaking, although Verushka couldn't be expected to understand what he was saying. He was speaking English, and they were in England but really there was only so much rakishness a well meaning servant girl could take.

"Gah" Verushka spurted out like a cross between a seagull's caw and a gasp. And with such a poetic outburst she took her leave of the Duke and all but ran through the open door, down the hall and all the way to the safety of her pantry.

***

Scot stood rather confused in the center of his bedchamber. Christened Cain, as one of the sons of Adam and all the biblical ties to Rome that entails, he never thought he'd spend so much of his childhood there- but he should probably have seen it coming given his namesake. He learnt to love the culture, the language and most especially the women. The people there were welcoming and warm, unlike England, and when his father's brother opened his home to his young nephew so many years ago, Rome opened its heart. Although, with either a distinct lack of geography or the unwillingness to look beyond the pillars of the Colosseum they saw little difference between England and Scotland, and assuming the young lad a Scot- so the nickname was born.

Scot had traveled many lands since then, seeking adventure in Africa, Greece, India... and yet in all that time he had never met a more peculiar girl as the one he found on his bed chamber floor this morning.

His stomach grumbled accusingly and he turned to the meager offerings he saw before him. Picking up a slice of toast, dipping it in what looked to be a slurry of berry jam and butter, he pondered whether returning home may be an adventure all on its own.

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