He chuckled. “My thoughts were more along the lines of, ‘Oh, Charles, you are the kindest—’”

“Ha!”

“‘—most dashing man to ever walk the planet. If I lived a thousand years, I—’”

“I hope I do live a thousand years,” Ellie retorted. “Then I should be a wizened old crone whose only purpose in life is to annoy you.”

“You should make a fetching old crone.” He cocked his head and pretended to study her face. “I can see just where your wrinkles will settle. Right here by your eyes, and—”

She batted away his hand, which was tracing the path of her future wrinkles. “You are no gentleman.”

He shrugged. “I am when it suits me.”

“I cannot imagine when that is. So far I have seen you drunk—”

“I had quite a good reason for that particular bout of alcohol,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Besides, my little drunken stupor brought me you, did it not?”

“That is not the point!”

“Pray do not work yourself into a snit,” he said in a weary voice.

“I am not in a snit.” She drew back and crossed her arms.

“You do a fine imitation of one, then.”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips curved into a confident smile. “My snits are far more lethal than this. You would be well advised not to encourage one.”

He sighed. “I suppose I will have to kiss you.”

“Whaaaaat?”

Charles grabbed her arm and pulled her quickly up against him until the length of her body molded against his. “It seems the only way to shut you up,” he drawled.

“You—” But she couldn't finish her sentence, for his lips were on hers, and they were doing the most devilish things… They tickled the corner of her mouth, then caressed the line of her jaw, and Ellie felt as if she were melting. Yes, she thought wildly, that could be the only explanation, for her legs felt like butter, and she swayed into him, and she must be on fire, because she felt so very very hot, and the word, “Fire,” echoed in her brain and—

Charles let go of her so suddenly that she tumbled into a chair. “Did you hear that?” he asked sharply.

Ellie was far too dazed to respond.

“Fire!” came the shouts.

“Good God!” Charles burst out, heading for the door.

“It's your Aunt Cordelia,” Ellie managed to say. “Didn't you say she always shouts, ‘Fire’?”

But Charles was already sprinting down the hall. Ellie stood and shrugged, not really believing there was any danger—not after her introduction to Cordelia the day before. Still, this was her new home, and if Charles thought there was something to worry about, she ought to investigate. Taking a deep breath, she picked up her skirts and ran down the hall after him.

Ellie skidded around three corners in her chase before she realized that she was following him back to the kitchens. “Oh, no,” she groaned, feeling suddenly very sick to her stomach. Not the oven. Please not the oven.