“I found I couldn’t sleep. I thought pacing a bit might help, and I paced all the way over to the settee, and got no farther.”
It wasn’t quite an answer to his question.
He approached her slowly. Surely the fact that she was swathed in a coverlet and clad only in her night rail had not escaped his notice.
“I apologize for not returning much earlier. I intended to. Some travel challenges prevented it.”
“You do not have to apologize to me,” shesaid, truthfully. “I suppose I’m glad you’re not soaking wet.”
There was a little beat of quiet.
“Are ye glad, now?” he said softly.
Her heart gave a little skip.
For a moment she thought he was poised to go to his room. He hovered indecisively before her.
“Daphne... close your eyes and hold out your hand.”
“Oh, I think not. I have brothers, Lorcan. I know that trick.”
After a moment he said, “I’m not your brother, lass.”
Something about the way he said that started an interesting tingle at the back of her neck.
And suddenly, her breath came just a little shorter.
She settled her shoulders, and closed her eyes.
Then tentatively, with a little smile, she extended her hand.
She felt the heat of one of his hands move gently beneath as a sort of support before something with a pleasing heft dropped into her palm.
“Open them,” he said.
She did, and beheld an orange.
She stared at it as if he’d just handed her the sun.
And from the place it sat on her palm a warmth stole through her limbs, fanned out into her entire being, and settled around her heart.
Her mouth dropped open. She could only stare, riveted, wholly flooded with happiness.
She looked up at him.
“Happy Birthday, Daphne,” he said.
She’d lost the ability to speak.
“I am tempted to hand oranges to you over and over just to see that expression on your face again.”
Her face was ablaze with heat. “How did you...”
“I swam to Cadiz, you see, which is why I was gone all day.”
“I see.”
“I’ve an old acquaintance who has an orangery.”
