“Good.” He sat on the edge of the bed, studying her. “I thought you might like some breakfast.”
The gesture was so unexpectedly sweet and considerate, she couldn’t help but to smile. “That was kind, thank you.”
His expression shifted, taking on a wariness that had been absent at first. “I’m not a kind man.”
“Yes, you are.”
He frowned. “No, I’m not. Nor am I a particularly good one.” He turned to the tray, picking up a plate. “What would you prefer? I managed to obtain some freshly baked bread and jam, sausages, a rasher of bacon, raspberries, pineapple, and strawberries.”
“You needn’t feed me. I’m hardly an invalid.”
“I am responsible for you now,” he said to the tray.
The passionate lover from last night was gone, and in his place was a brooding stranger. After they had made love, he had tended to her, washing her and bringing her to climax yet again before he had slid into the bed with her. They had fallen into a blissful sleep. Rhiannon didn’t like this abrupt shift. Not one whit.
“I’m responsible for myself,” she countered. “And I’m fully capable of walking to the dining room for breakfast. I’ve managed to do so every day thus far without you spiriting a tray of food to me.”
“Don’t argue, minx. Eat.” He presented her with a plate laden with food.
All things she liked, of course. And she was hungry. She could dislike the cool demeanor he was presenting her and still accept his offer of food, Rhiannon decided, taking the plate from him.
Their fingers brushed, and a frisson of awareness skipped up her elbow and landed low in her belly.
Those fingers of his had been all over her last night. Inside her. And his tongue.
Heat blossomed on her cheeks at the memory.
“Are you going to eat as well?” she asked, trying to shake her embarrassment by distracting herself.
“I already ate hours ago. It’s nearly noon.”
“Noon?”
The revelation surprised her. Rhiannon wasn’t ordinarily a slugabed.
“The time of day when it is officially afternoon and no longer morning,” he drawled. “Also known as midday.”
The vexing man. She glanced back up at him, holding her plate with one hand and her blankets with the other. How did he expect her to eat whilst she was naked and he was presiding over her?
She pinned him with a glare. “I am more than aware of what the word noon means.”
His lips twitched. “You seemed confused. I was merely attempting to aid you.”
“Hmm,” she said, deciding to settle the plate on the bed at her side.
The fork clattered and skittered to the sheets, but she retrieved it, determined to have her repast. Her body had certainly worked up an appetite the night before. She was also deliciously sore in places she hadn’t previously known existed. And she soon had to make use of the water closet. But none of these were things she had any intention of telling the ridiculously gorgeous man sitting on her bed. She could holdher pee for an eternity if it meant avoiding the mortification of telling him she needed to relieve herself.
So instead, Rhiannon turned her attention to eating the small feast he had brought her. Despite his protestation otherwise, it had been both thoughtful and kind of him. She hoped he didn’t regret what had happened between them, for she had every intention of it happening again.
A not-quite-comfortable silence fell between them as she began to eat. But a few bites and she grew weary of his quiet regard.
She glanced up at him, waving a hunk of fresh pineapple that she had skewered on the end of her fork. “Do you do this with all your mistresses? Bring them breakfast and then stare at them in thorny silence?”
“I wasn’t aware that silence could be thorny. How delightfully descriptive you are.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well?”
“I don’t have mistresses.”
