Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,260

was still de-facto estate manager and therefore in charge of the kitchen. If she wanted to have a word with the cook about her hours, that was up to her.

As far as Rhys was concerned, if Polly finished her work early in the afternoon, she was welcome to go home and leave Kington House to Wister and himself.

Closing the book, he pushed back in his chair and stretched out his arms. Across the desk from him, Wister did the same.

“It’s a pity we don’t have a decent wine cellar. I could do with a drop of brandy or even a whisky,” he said.

She nodded at the notebook. “That should go on the list. I am sure I polished off the last of the decent brandy a couple of months ago, but you never know what you might find in the cellar under the house. Could be worth taking a look.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes at her. This was Wister talking, and from what he had already discerned about her, there was a better than even chance that she knew exactly where every single stray bottle of alcohol was hidden in the house.

It could be fun to help her go down into the cellar and find them. Who knows what might happen in the dark? She could trip on something and you would have to take a firm hold of her…What am I thinking?

Being alone with Wister was becoming a dangerous thing. She might be an advisor, but she was still in his employ. First name basis or not, he had no right to be letting his quietly growing lust for her get the better of him. “I tell you what, let’s go to the village. We can have a couple of glasses of the local ale, then come back here for supper.”

She grinned at him somewhat sheepishly from her side of the desk. They hadn’t known one another for very long, but he already knew that look. “What?”

“I have a bottle of wine. Polly brought it with her from the village this morning. So, rather than us go into Kington, I was going to suggest that I cut your hair and give you a shave. We can share the bottle of red,” she replied.

For Wister to get close enough to give him a proper shave, her breasts would be mere inches from his face. He wasn’t sure how he would be able to deal with such temptation.

When his manhood twitched and offered up its own opinion about the matter, the decision was made. “Perhaps another time.”

She got to her feet. “No time like the present. I shall go and put some water on the stove and get some clean towels. The kitchen is nice and warm so you can strip off your shirt and not be uncomfortable. I will see you shortly.”

Blast. What was I supposed to say to that? I am only a mere male.

Rhys remained in his chair as Wister’s footsteps faded downstairs. He took a long, deep calming breath and tried to get his body to relax.

“She is a paid employee. You can’t go lusting after her,” he muttered.

The previous owner of Kington House had taken advantage of Wister by not paying her. By thinking of her in such a lecherous way, was he any better?

He wanted her—no longer able to deny that immutable fact. But he was determined that if anything of a sexual nature were to happen between him and Wister, it would have to be with her full consent. And the written acknowledgement that he would pay out her contract in full if at any time she decided to leave.

Rhys quietly cursed himself for not having taken the time to venture over to the larger town of Leominster and gone to a gentleman’s barber. Now he was going to have to suffer Wister’s feminine attentions.

And her inviting body being so damn close.

Wister paced back and forth in the kitchen. “Not so brave now, are you?” she muttered.

In a matter of minutes, Rhys would be coming downstairs, fully expecting her to not only cut his hair but to give him a close shave.

She had done it plenty of times for Lord Kington. The tight old codger wouldn’t part with the coin for a valet when at home, but this was different. Her previous employer was a crotchety man whose facial hair only required a small amount of upkeep once a week and who had long ago gone fully bald.

Rhys, on the other hand, was in possession