Chapter 17 The Breakfast
THE brEAKFAST
A soft knock on the door roused me from a deep sleep.
For a second, I didn’t know what was happening.
Then my bed moved, since my bed was a tall, built, sex god aristocrat. I was gently set on my belly on soft sheets as Battle slid out from under me.
Blinking and pushing up on an elbow, I watched him pull on his pajama bottoms then go to the door.
He opened it a smidge and immediately looked down.
He then opened it fully, bent, grabbed something and came up with a wide silver tray. He kicked the door closed with his foot as he walked what looked to be breakfast toward the bed.
“Um…” I didn’t quite start as I gathered the sheets and duvet to me.
We weren’t loud, as such.
But it seemed the girls knew of last night’s activities.
Unless they routinely brought breakfast to his door when the staff were away.
Battle set the tray on the bed, stating, “I would be touched if that didn’t look appalling.”
I turned my attention to the tray.
Burnt toast. What appeared to be solid oatmeal. Badly hacked into grapefruit halves in bowls. A pot of jam. Two coffee cups in saucers, a little jug of creamer, and a cafetière of what appeared to be the strongest pot of coffee ever made.
The only thing on it that wasn’t terrifying was an adorable, tiny, stemmed glass with pretty buds sticking out of it.
But there were two cups.
Yeah.
They knew I was in here.
“Your sisters really can’t cook,” I said to the tray. I looked up at him. “That’s the visual representation of ‘it’s the thought that counts.’”
He smiled at me, then he swooped in to give me a soft kiss.
After he did that, he walked into the bathroom and shut the door.
I kept the sheets around me as I poured coffee.
I gave it plenty of room for cream, but even so, once I’d mixed it, I could tell by the color it needed more.
When he came out, he had a gray dressing gown with him.
He handed it to me, murmuring chivalrously, “Just in case you prefer modesty.”
He was just so great.
I shrugged it on, climbed out of bed while he climbed in, and I tied the belt, trapping the voluminous material around me as he called while I walked to his bathroom, “I got out an extra toothbrush head, if you like.”
So great.
I did my business including brushing my teeth.
And I did this in a very modern, all-black bathroom (it even had a black soaking tub). The only break in the black was some gold fixtures and pendant lights and a few green plants here and there (even the towels and mats were black).
Being nosy, instead of going back to the bedroom, I poked my head into the next room over and saw more black.
This had white and gray accents, but it was a closet, about three times the size of mine, and the built-in dressing table at one of the two windows in the space was even better. Though, it was empty.
Put there, waiting for the duchess to move in.
Hmm.
His closet had an island in the middle, where I could see open-sided drawers filled with rolled ties and displayed cufflinks and the like. The island was flanked with benches with tufted ivory velvet tops that you could sit on to put on your shoes.
It wasn’t full, but there was a duke in this house who liked his clothes, that was certain.
I headed back to the bedroom, and although I wanted to study the shirtless man lounging in bed with a cup of coffee, I finally took in his room.
Juxtaposition was his thing, because this room was mostly white.
There was a thin black stripe around where his duvet would fall over the edge of the bed when it was made.
But the big seating area on the other side of the room (yes, by a fireplace) had two white couches facing each other, flanked with two white chairs, also facing each other.
All of this was on a white rug edged in two thin black stripes.
There were no old paintings or portraits on the walls.
But there was a clear crystal Lalique sculpture of the nude dancer, and a black one of a hunting panther.
However, the minimalism was extreme here except…
I stopped dead as I spied the portrait over the fireplace.
It was of a man’s torso. He was wearing a light-blue button-down covering his wide chest. He had his hand in the pocket of his jeans.
However, instead of a head, over the open neck of his shirt and the strong column of his throat was a stunning, drifting trail of flowers, cut rubies and prancing cats that filled the black background of the top half of the painting.
Tears instantly hit my eyes.
“Come here, Vivi,” he called.
I looked to him.
He was watery.
“Is that you?” I asked.
“Yes. Prue painted it.”
Oh my God.
“Darling, come here.”
I wandered there.
He pulled me into bed beside him.
“It is you,” I snuffled, nuzzling into him. “It’s so very you.”
“I was moved by it, yes.”
I looked at his face (or tried, I was still crying). “It’s so beautiful.”
He tucked my face in his neck and wrapped his arms around me.
“I need to see her work,” I mumbled into his skin.
“Prepare to be deeply impressed.”
“You make me wish I had a brother.’
“Well, I put a fair amount of effort into our activities last night, so I’m uncertain about that being your response this morning.”
I laughed and slapped his chest lightly, pulling back and gazing at him. “You know what I mean. Not you as my brother, specifically. Though, a brother just like you.”
“I hope that’s what you mean.”
I touched his face before I glided my fingers over his hair and got my shit together.
Then I dashed my fingers over my cheeks and asked, “Do you think they heard us?”
“Doubtful. What I think is, it’s nearly ten, and someone went looking for you. When they found your bedroom and the studio empty, they came to the obvious conclusion.”
That tracked.
“Did you see anyone in the hall?”
“No.”
I reached for my coffee cup. “Where are the animals?”
“They went out through my dressing room. They need breakfast too.”
They did.
“Will someone see to that if the staff isn’t around?”
“Even Tempie makes it her mission to provide sustenance to our pets on the rare occasions she’s the first one up and they need feeding.”
I found this entirely easy to believe.
“It’s nearly ten?” After asking this, I took a sip of coffee and came instantly alert in a way I would be until tomorrow at that hour with the power-packed punch of caffeine I just swallowed.
“You were insatiable last night. You kept me up very late,” he explained instead of answering my question.
“I was insatiable?”
“You have a very greedy mouth,” he paused, “and pussy.”
“Ugh,” I grunted.
He angled in to kiss my neck.
“I’m not complaining,” he said when he pulled away.
“Well, I am. The condoms have to go, Your Grace.”
He raised his brows.
“I have an IUD. And I’m clean.”
It was my turn to raise my brows, and I did it over my mega strong cup of coffee.
“I don’t go in unprotected, sweetheart.”
I could see why.
He had a lot to take for someone who was up for taking it that way, and I would suspect there were many women who were.
“Your call,” I said to the coffee.
“I mean no offense, Vivi,” he said gently.
I focused on him. “Honey, I get it. You’re loaded. It should be your choice, just as it should the woman’s.” I smiled at him. “You’re deft with application.” My smile died. “I just want it to be as good for you as it is for me.”
“That’s very sweet, darling.” He came in for a lip brush. “I’ll bear it in mind.”
“All I ask.”
“But I’m concerned you have any fears it wasn’t good for me.”
“I said as good.”
His eyes twinkled. “Ah. Rest assured, I do believe it was as good. I promise.”
“Mm,” I hummed.
“Now, the question is, are we going to attempt to eat this?” He gestured to the tray.
I reached to grab a spoon and stuck it in the oatmeal.
It remained on end.
I turned to him. “I think…no.”
“I don’t even believe Bartie would clean that mess for us, and he eats everything. I’ll go down and see if there are some croissants.”
“How about I go down and scramble some eggs and make some non-burnt toast?” I offered.
“How long will that take?” he asked curiously.
He was cute.
“Maybe fifteen minutes. With walking there and back time, maybe twenty-five.”
He smiled at me and moved from the bed, saying, “No. It’s croissants.”
I wasn’t going to object.
Though, as I watched the muscles of his back bunch and flex while he walked to the door, I called, “Hurry.”
He shot me a smug look before he opened the door.
“That means fast, Battle.”
He shook his head and disappeared.
I sank into his big, comfy bed and smiled to myself.
Then I took another sip of super strong coffee, set it aside and reached for a grapefruit half.
* * *
We’d just done it again, and miracle of miracles, Mr. Control the Proceedings let me be on top.
Battle was a cuddler after, which made me rejoice, because I was too.
And that was what we were doing.
Cuddling.
Though, it was sexy cuddling, because we were naked, and most of his “cuddles” involved drawing random patterns on my ass.
“I’ll return,” he whispered, slid me off him, got out of bed and went to the bathroom.
I pulled the duvet up the front of my body and wrapped my limbs round it, waiting for his return.
He didn’t take long, and when he came back, he tugged the bedclothes from my grip and positioned us as we were before he left me.
“I see your point about the prophylactics,” he muttered after he had me where he wanted me.
Aw.
He didn’t want to leave me.
“Still your call,” I said.
“We’ll see.”
His fingers went back to drawing.
I rested my cheek on his shoulder and let them.
Eventually, he wrapped his arms around me and just held me.
Was there ever a better Saturday?
No.
Not ever.
“Do you miss her?” he asked softly.
I lifted my head to look at him. “Miss who?”
“Your mum.”
For the second time that day, dang it, tears filled my eyes.
He shoved my face in his throat and said, “Stupid question. I shouldn’t have asked.”