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Still—the heat stayed.
I stood there until the warmth started to wane. Shame filled me. It was this place. This house. This… arrangement. That’s what I told myself. I almost believed it.
I hit the taps, ending the warmth. I should ask to leave before this went any further. I dried and thought of that. If I asked Alaric to leave, would he let me?
Maybe.
If he knew what I saw last night.
Men in cars arriving in the middle of the night.
Who would do that?
I dried, pulling on my white dress and a soft cashmere lavender cardigan before slipping on my flats. Mrs. Reid had started bringing me clothes two days before, leaving this cardigan and a few warmer dresses. She’d taken one look at my closet, clucked her tongue and shook her head. You’ll freeze in this house, she said. I slipped on my flats. My closet was mostly empty. An ache filled me with the sight. Spaces that would wait for someone else to fill.
I dragged a brush through my hair and stopped. My focus shifted to the thick, black throw on the seat before I turned and headed for the door. The blanket stayed with me. He’d draped over me as I slept. The thought followed me anyway as the scent of bacon and eggs filled the hallway.
My steps slowed as I headed through the library.
The house had rules.
It also had a rhythm. One I was only starting to learn.
But this…
This wasn’t it.
Something had changed.
I slowed at the dining room. The scent of food grew bolder, hungrier. The forgotten table was alive. Places were set. Food laid out on plates and in bowls. But that wasn’t what made my steps stutter, then stop. It was him. Waiting.
He sat quietly. Legs crossed. A steaming cup of coffee in front of him.
“Sit.” He motioned to the seat across from him.
I glanced toward the kitchen, searching for distance… answers… something solid to hold onto.
And found none.
Still, he waited. Not a flicker of annoyance on his face.
I took a step, then another, pulling out the chair and sat. My belly grumbled at the sight of the food. He picked up his cup, taking a sip. Just like that the tension shifted. I picked up my plate, taking slices of bacon and a scoop of eggs. Fruit was next. The pears I loved were sliced perfectly. Not too thick, not too thin. I placed them on the saucer, beside it more of the strawberries and sat.
Hunger twisted sharply through me. I picked up my fork and dug in. Soft eggs melted in my mouth. I bit, chewed and swallowed, then reached for more. A cup of tea waited. Slightly milky. Just the way I liked it. I picked it up, took a sip and gave a soft moan. It was stronger this morning, sweeter too. My shoulders eased. A deep sigh settled, pushing exhaustion away. I placed it down and reached for the food once more.
“You slept through the storm.”
My hand froze—
Bacon trembled on the end of the fork.
I chewed—slowly—then swallowed.
“I saw…” I murmured. “Enough.”
Tension filled the silence. He knew I was awake. He knew I wandered too.
I searched that stony gaze, finding nothing.
