The smell of coffee was a welcome distraction from the scent of roses wafting over him as she leaned across to hand him the cup.
Focus, Thomas. Keep it together.He sipped from his mug and then frowned. “What is in this?”
Vivian’s eyes widened, and she nearly dropped the cup in her own hands. “Cinnamon. I have heard it can help with stiffness, and after spending all night working, you might be feeling some discomfort today. Though if you do not care for it, I can ask the cook to make us a fresh batch. I rather like the taste myself, but not everyone does. Perhaps I should not have done it or asked for it on the side? I will ask the cook for a fresh pot.”
Thomas reached toward her as she stood to leave, and she froze, looking down at his outstretched hand. He beckoned for her to sit, moving his hand back.
“Are you always so nervous? Or do I make you so?”
The tip of her tongue darted across her lips, and Thomas’s own mouth felt suddenly dry. “I… I am not nervous. “
“Do not lie to me.” Thomas arched an eyebrow at her.
He watched as color appeared on her cheeks, and she shook her head. “I am not. I just… I do not want you to think I am useless.”
“Why would I think that?” Thomas frowned, steepling his hands together as he looked at her.
“I cannot even do a simple thing like bring you breakfast without ruining it.” Vivian ran a hand through her hair and gestured toward the tray emphatically. “I thought it would be a kind thing to add some spice to your coffee, but it did not even occur to me that you might not care for it. I am so used to having it inmy own, and I always do this. My mother always tells me I am thoughtless and?—”
“I would hardly call that thoughtless, Vivian.” He leaned toward her, wrestling with an anger that had burst unexpectedly to life in his chest as he had imagined her mother saying such things to her.
Why does that image affect me so?
“You were trying to do something kind for me. And I happen to like the addition.”
“You do not have to say that just to make me feel better.” Vivian shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself as she turned away from him.
“It is the truth.” Thomas reached toward her and gently turned her face back to him, his green eyes finding her hazel ones. “I would not lie to you to spare your feelings. If the coffee were not to my liking, I would tell you. To pretend to like it when I did not would be a waste of both of our time.”
Thomas sipped from his cup, making sure she watched as he did it. He downed it, smacked his lips together, and watched as her eyes followed the movement, widening as they did. Spots of color appeared on her cheeks, and Thomas smiled.
“I just want to be useful.” Vivian swallowed, her eyes still on his lips. “You have already done so much for me, and I want to help. After all, this marriage is supposed to be of mutual benefit.”
“It is.” Thomas leaned back against his chair. “You do not need to prove yourself to me, Vivian. We are already married after all.”
A look he could not interpret flashed across her face. “And yet, so far, I feel like only I have seen the benefit. After all, it was you who made Lord Brixten so furious he practically stormed from the garden.”
“You played your part just as well as I did.” Thomas massaged his neck. “Besides, our dancing served my purpose too. I doubt there can be any question of my vitality after that little display.”
“I suppose that is true. I do not think I have ever danced so much. And you are a masterful dancer.” He saw her reach toward him and hastily took a sip of his drink. “You almost made me feel like I was equal to your skill.”
“That is because you are.” Thomas cleared his throat.
“I wish there were more I could do to repay you.” Her eyes flitted to his lips, and he saw something hard and fiery fill them.
“There will be plenty of time for that, I am sure.” He took a bite of one of the many pastries on the tray.
“We will part ways in a month, Thomas. I want to ensure that before we do, you feel you have gotten your fair share from this arrangement.” He was impressed that she had managed to keep from blushing as she said the words.
Clearly, she is getting bolder.He let his eyes travel across her body with deliberate slowness, leaning toward her as he bit into the pastry. He expected her to move away from him, but instead she held her ground, bringing an elbow onto the table and resting her chin on her hand.
“And what exactly are you offering, Vivian?” They were so close that he could count the eyelashes on her eyelids.
His heart thundered in his chest, and blood roared in his ears. The smell of roses was intoxicating, mingling with the coffee, cinnamon, and pastries.
“Whatever you want.” Her breath tickled his lips. “You only have to name it, and it is yours.”
Every hair on his body stood on end. It would be so easy to close the distance between them. They were barely more than a hair’s breadth from each other. The hazel in her eyes seemed to pull him into them like magnets.
