Maid to Match by Deeanne Gist Page A

night was nowhere to be seen. Instead, she’d somehow twisted that glorious mane into a knot, pulling her hair back so tightly it had to hurt.
    The severe style brought her graceful jaw and high cheekbones into prominence. He followed the long curve of her ivory neck.
    She took a step back. “I don’t have time to dawdle this morning. I need to start my work.”
    “Why?”
    Clasping her hands in front of her, she looked at the floor. “The Vanderbilts are having a party of guests in two weeks’ time. There’s much to do in preparation.”
    He waited until she lifted her gaze. Their eyes locked. His determined, hers confused.
    “Turn off the light and come here,” he repeated.
    She backed up another step. A massive column halted her progress.
    He closed the distance between them.
    Scrambling around the column, she backpedaled into the main hall, holding her arm out in an effort to ward him off.
    He stopped at the column. The marble entryway was almost as big as the barn they’d been in last night and much more open.
    He pushed the black button, plunging them into darkness. “Dance with me.”
    Before she could answer, he captured the hand she still held in front of her and began to hum the minuet. Whether she went through the motions of the dance out of reflex or a desire to acquiesce, he wasn’t sure. But they made it through the introductory steps and then he had her in his arms – though not quite the way he’d imagined.
    Still, he took full advantage of the moment and spun her around the large space in a series of waltz turns. One-two-three . One-two-three .
    He threw a quick message of thanksgiving up to his pa for insisting he and Earl learn to dance when they’d reached that age between boyhood and manhood. The two of them had chafed at the lessons. What good would such foolishness do a mountain man?
    But Pa had been adamant. Just as he’d been adamant about their reading, writing, numbers, geography, and languages. Just as he’d been adamant about using proper grammar within the walls of their home. Just as he’d been adamant about protecting women and children.
    When Mack finished humming the song, they were exactly where they’d started. Steps away from the column and the tapestry gallery. And like the night before, he did not release her.
    Nor did she pull away.
    Silence.
    He felt her shallow breaths with the hand he pressed between her shoulder blades. He pictured the rising and falling of her chest. The apron bib covering her bodice.
    He slid his hand down her spine, slipping his little finger beneath the knot of her apron bow.
    A shudder ran through her frame.
    Slowly, he brought her palm to his mouth and took his first taste. Buttermilk and something indefinably sweet.
    Sucking in her breath, she tugged at her hand. “Please.”
    Reluctantly, he freed her. She brushed past him and turned on the lights, then whirled to face him. Her eyes were wide. Her face flushed. Her chest pumped like bellows. “You mustn’t do that. We’ll lose our jobs.”
    “I don’t plan on being here long.”
    “I do.”
    “Why?”
    She looked at him as if he were addled. “I’m up for lady’s maid. Lady’s maid . Do you know what that means?”
    “Yes. It means you’ll be at the beck and call of somebody else twenty-four hours a day. It means you’ll, more or less, have an electric wire attached to you at all times. It means you must be in attendance whether you want to or not, while simultaneously pretending to be deaf, dumb, and blind. It means giving up every ounce of independence and freedom you have.”
    She whipped herself straight, squaring her shoulders. “It means I’ll travel the world. It means I won’t have to rise at four in the morning. It means I’ll make in one month what you’ll make in three and what the scullery makes in six. It means I can help support my family and give to those in need.”
    “At what cost to you, Tillie?”
    She looked him up and down. “I don’t think it