He drew out a chair on the adjacent corner to hers and sat down.
“I thought you were eating in the kitchen.”
“And leave you to dine here all alone?” He shook his head. “Besides, it will give us a chance to get to know each other better.” He gave her a look that brought back all the sensations she’d experienced in the stables.
“I don’t wish to get to know you better.” Realizing how rude that sounded, she added, “I shall be leaving here as soon as possible.”
“Really? Let’s discuss it later. Eat your breakfast while it’s hot,” he recommended.
She said a quiet grace and began to eat, very conscious of him seated only a few feet from her, those blue, blue eyes seeming to be on her each time she glanced his way. She was always self-conscious about eating in front of others.
Papa’s voice echoed in her head, as it did at most mealtimes.A lady does not eat like a horse, Callie, but picks at her food daintily, like a little bird.
With Papa’s critical eye on her, Callie never did enjoy a meal. No matter how delicately she picked at her food, no matter how often she came away from the table hungry, Papa’s gimlet eye was on her, and she alwaysfeltlike a horse.
She cut herself a sliver of bacon, just a tiny, delicate morsel, then paused. She thought of that scene in the stable, not the one where he’d—she darted a look across the table—where he’d kissed her. What had happened just before that. When she’d lost her temper with him.
Papa would have said,A princess does not raise her voice, Callie. A princess is not a fishwife. A princess remains serene and dignified at all times.
Calliehadlost her temper. Shehadraised her voice. For all she knew she’d even screeched like a fishwife—she’d certainly poked him in the chest like one. She had been neither serene, nor dignified.
And it had felt wonderful.
Callie stared at the bird-portion sliver of bacon on her fork.
All forms of pork are anathema to any female of taste.Rupert’s voice echoed in her head.
“Is something wrong with your bacon?” A deep voice interrupted her thoughts. “Mine is delicious.”
Callie blinked at the man sitting across from her. “No. No,” she said thoughtfully. “There’s nothing wrong with it at all.” She stabbed her fork into the pile of bacon and cut herself a proper mouthful. She chewed it slowly, savoring it.
Heavenly.
She could feel his disturbing blue gaze and decided she didn’t care a rap for it. She ate another piece of bacon and another. She ate some of the scrambled eggs. They were creamy and delicious. She ate some more bacon.
He grinned at her. “Told you the bacon is good, didn’t I? I can’t tell you how I missed the smell of bacon—good, home-cured English bacon. There’s nothing like it.”
She looked down at her plate and blinked. She’d eaten the entire mound of bacon. And the eggs. And she felt wonderful. She’d been so hungry.
“I like to see a woman with a good, healthy appetite.”
She gave him a narrow look, not sure how to take his words. He was probably hinting that she’d eaten like a horse, but Callie didn’t care. It was none of his business—besides, he was supposed to like horses, so there.
Not that she cared what anyone thought of her anymore. She owed no obedience to anyone anymore. She was free, she told herself incredulously. Free to say what she liked, do what she liked, eat what she liked.
It was a heady sensation.
The door opened and Jim came in with a pile of toast followed by Nicky with honey, marmalade, and butter.
“Shall I butter your toast while it’s still hot?” Gabriel asked as the two boys bounced from the room.
“No, thank you.” She took a sip of tea: weak, black, and unsweetened.
He spread butter on the toast with a lavish hand. “Marmalade? Mrs. Barrow’s finest.”
Callie looked at the toast, melting with butter. She’d indulged herself with the bacon and eggs. Eating like a horse was one thing: like a pig was quite another. “No, thank you.”
“Honey then. Good choice. You’ll find it interesting as well as delicious. Our bees forage for nectar among the seaside plants and it gives the honey a unique flavor.” He drizzled honey on a slice of toast and passed it to her. She should not. She really should not.
