Page 18 of Fit for a King

And, unfortunately, Noah had also learned me. Not fully—no one did that—but enough that I was all too aware of it.

He knew better than to hand me correspondence before I’d finished my tea, and knew that I never ate the breakfast Mrs. Stuart insisted on sending up every morning.

Mostly, though, Noah had learned silence. I should’ve been grateful for that. It was what I wanted, after all. But for some reason, the way it stretched between us wasn’t soothing in the least. I was all too aware of him every time he entered a room, and when his fingers brushed against me while he was doing the most basic task. Keeping his mouth shut while he did it should’ve helped.

It did not.

That morning, Noah entered with my breakfast tray balanced on one hand and the day’s schedule tucked beneath his other arm.

“Your Majesty.”

I looked up from the letter I’d been reading over with my tea. “Mr. Bennett.”

He set the tray on the small table near the window, careful as always. The tray was full of toast, eggs, fruit, more tea, and a small pot of honey Mrs. Stuart continued to include, no matter how many times it had been returned unopened.

Noah placed the schedule beside me and then straightened, his hands clasped behind his back. When I didn’t reach for it, he nodded at it. “Your schedule, sir.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

He didn’t move, though, and I glanced up. “Was there something else?”

“No, sir.” He continued to stand there, and then I caught his eyes flick to the tray. “I was waiting to see if you needed anything else before I left.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Yes, sir.” He bowed and moved toward the door, but not before looking once more at the untouched plate.

I ignored it, or tried to, and began scanning the schedule. It was predictable enough, with nonstop meetings, but as I flipped to the second page, Noah stepped back inside the room.

“I thought you left.”

“I did, sir.”

“And yet here you are.”

He held a black jacket over one arm, his expression not giving anything away. “This had been sent down for pressing. It’s ready for you now.”

I crossed over to him and turned, and he stepped behind me, lifting the jacket. I slid one arm in, then the other, and Noah’s fingers brushed the back of my neck as he adjusted the collar. The touch lasted all of a second, so light I shouldn’t have noticed. I looked up and met his eyes in the mirror.

He’d noticed. Of course he had, because Noah Bennett noticed everything.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. His face revealed nothing, but his eyes betrayed him, and the awareness I saw there had me turning away from the mirror. “That will be all.”

His hands dropped at once. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

When he left again, I told myself it was relief I felt as the tension in the room eased, and I let myself believe it the rest of the busy day.

The following morning, Noah brought breakfast again.

Toast, eggs, fruit, more tea, honey…and this time, a small pot of lemon curd.

I glanced at it. “What is that?”

“Lemon curd, sir.”

“I can see that.”