"You might see what food you can find in the pantry, then. We're cut off from the village and likely to remain that way for several days. Do what you can to start breakfast. It would be best for the Dawsons to have something bland like gruel, but the rest of us will need something more substantial. I'll be back shortly to help."
Brie nodded and rose. "There is one more thing," Dominic added, surprising her. When she looked up at him expectantly, she could see the mocking glint in his eyes. "If you do decide to dance naked in the snow," he drawled outrageously, "let me know. I expect I would enjoy watching."
Brie opened her mouth to retort, but then thought better of it and pressed her lips together. She had already made a fool of herself once this morning by losing her temper. She wouldn't do so again, no matter how deliberately provoking Stanton was. Instead, she squared her shoulders and turned to put her cloak away in the closet. Fortunately for her new resolve, she didn't see the amused smile that was playing on Dominic's lips.
Brie went directly to the kitchen, determined to forget her unpleasant confrontation with Stanton and regain her composure. By the time she had finished checking what food the Lodge had on hand, however, she was feeling frustrated. Like the sickroom, the kitchen was not one of her areas of expertise. She had been trained from an early age to manage a large estate, but her training hadn't actually included learning how to cook. She had merely needed to set standards for her servants and see they were upheld. Now she fervently wished she had paid more attention when her mother had instructed her about household matters. Well, Brie thought with a defiant glance around the kitchen, she would just have to make the best of the situation.
At least the larder was well stocked. Her search through the storeroom revealed a large haunch of beef, several smoked hams, a side of bacon, and a variety of winter vegetables. There were also a few loaves of bread, as well as some different cheeses.
They could always have toasted bread and cheese, Brie decided. And there was plenty of cider and ale. Tea and coffee, too, if she could determine how much of each to use. But the invalids needed a special diet. How did one make gruel, anyway?
Brie pushed a curl from her forehead and took a deep breath. This was no time to despair. At least she could find some cooking pots and set some plates out on the kitchen table. Besides, Stanton had said he would help, hadn't he?
Realizing she would be glad when he returned, Brie had to smile. She never would have guessed that she'd be grateful for his presence at the Lodge. But he had been helpful, even if his manner had been rather high handed. And she supposed she had to make allowances for his arrogance. Earls were a different breed of men, after all.
Brie was still in a charitable frame of mind when Dominic entered the kitchen a few moments later. She looked up from her task of folding napkins at the table and gave him a friendly smile. For a moment she even thought he might return her simple greeting, for he had halted in the doorway and was staring at her intently.
But then his brows drew together in a frown. "Something is burning," he said abruptly, his searching glance moving quickly around the kitchen.
"The skillet!" Brie gasped, realizing she had set the pan on the hot stove. It was smoking now, darkening the air with greasy black fumes. Brie leapt to her feet and before Dominic i could stop her, reached frantically for the skillet. She dropped it even more quickly, giving a cry of pain as the hot iron burned her fingers.
Dominic reacted by grabbing Brie by the arm and dragging her across the kitchen. In an instant, he had shoved her out the back door and down the steps, then tumbled her to the ground and thrust her throbbing hand into a snowbank.
Brie was too stunned to speak for a moment. Then realizing that she was sprawling in the snow, freezing, while Stanton, forcibly held her there after he had practically threatened her life if she disobeyed him, she began to laugh.
Dominic liked the sound of her laughter. It was low and melodious and completely feminine. He grinned back at her. "I know, I was the one who told you not to go outside. But this will stop any blisters from forming."
"I didn't know the skillet would be hot," she said ruefully.
"You weren't jesting. You really don't know how to cook."
She nodded sadly. "I suppose I'm hopeless."
Dominic cocked his head, studying her. "I wouldn't say that, precisely. I expect your talents just lie elsewhere." He didn't voice his actual thoughts—that warming a man's bed was probably what she was best suited for. Instead, he lifted her hand, turning it palm up to inspect the burn. The injury didn't seem too serious, just a couple of red marks on her fingers. "Does it pain you?" he asked softly.
Hearing the suddenly husky note in his voice, Brie looked down in confusion. Her hand wasn't hurting anymore, unless one counted the throbbing sensation where Stanton's warm fingers touched her skin. "No," she replied a little breathlessly.
"You'll live, then." He smiled, letting his thumb absently caress her palm. "And fortunately, I know a little something about cooking. Do you think you could chop some vegetables for a soup without cutting yourself?"
Looking up, Brie found herself staring blankly at Dominic. She had been admiring his long, graceful fingers and wondering how they had gotten so tanned, but his melting smile had scattered her thoughts, making her forget entirely what they had been discussing. "What did you say?" she asked.
Dominic regarded her with amusement. "Vegetables, chérie. For a soup. The broth will be good for our invalids."
Flushing at his knowing look, Brie pulled her hand away. "Yes, of course," she said hastily, feeling foolish for letting him affect her so. Struggling to her feet, she dusted the snow from her damp skirts and made her way carefully up the slippery steps to the house.
Dominic followed more slowly, letting his gaze linger on her trim hips. He hadn't had any trouble recognizing the look she had given him. That befuddled expression Brie had worn for a moment was no stranger to him, for he had often seen it on the faces of women he exerted himself enough to charm. Brie was most definitely susceptible to seduction, he decided, if not actually willing. And that meant it was only a matter of time before he had her in his bed.
Which was fortunate, Dominic thought with a grin. Otherwise being cooped up with her was likely to drive him to drink. He felt an ache in his groin every time he looked at her. Of course, he would have to make certain that she didn't belong to Julian. Honorably, he couldn't infringe on his friend's territory. But barring that, it should only be a few days.
It was a measure of Brie's innocence that she didn't guess what was being planned for her. She was aware that Dominic fascinated her, though. His nearness affected her strangely as she washed and peeled and chopped vegetables. Far too often she caught herself stealing a glance at him as he prepared breakfast.
He seemed almost a different man now from the one who had frightened her that morning with his cold anger, for there was a hint of gentleness beneath the cynicism that hadn't been present before. He was wearing the same dark green coat he had worn the previous night, although he no longer had on a neckcloth. His white cambric shirt was open at the neck, revealing a strong, brown throat. That, and the fact that his black hair was a little tousled, lent him an informality that was rather appealing, Brie thought. Even the stubble on his jaw didn't detract from his rakish good looks. A fallen angel, indeed. That suggestion of lost sweetness made a woman ache to take him in her arms and hold him. Not that she would ever do such a thing. But he fascinated her, all the same.
Brie found herself trying to guess his age. Something over thirty, she decided, wondering how had he spent those years. His deft movements suggested that at least he knew what he was doing with a skillet—and soon the appetizing aroma of bacon frying confirmed it.
The delicious smells made Brie realize how hungry she was, but she was content to wait. The kitchen radiated an intimate atmosphere that was cozy, warm, and welcoming. Brie smiled to herself, realizing she was actually enjoying working silently beside Stanton. How could anyone enjoy cutting up carrots?
Their intimacy was soon interrupted. First Ezra Dawson, the second youngest Dawson grandson, delivered a basket of eggs from the hen house. Then a moment later, the kitchen door swung open to admit a short, dark, heavy-set man.