“It’s difficult to find the proper words to express my gratitude for that.”
“Okay. And I don’t want you clamping any weird toys on my nipples.”
“I can agree to that.”
“Okay then. We’re good.”
“We’re very good.” He kissed her again. “Lights out.”
“I’m not eating frog, either.”
“Off the menu. Go to sleep.”
He smiled into the dark, stroking her back until he felt her drift off. And thought again, they were very good.
6
When she woke, Roarke, in his usual spot in the sitting area, was watching the financial reports on mute. The cat was sleeping in front of the fire that simmered low.
She smelled coffee and thought the scent, the view of Roarke in one of his business god suits, and the cat snoring by a low fire equaled a pretty solid way to wake up.
She rolled out of bed, headed straight to the AutoChef because the smell of coffee wasn’t enough.
“Good morning.”
She gulped coffee, glancing toward the window. “Might be. Nothing’s falling out of the sky yet.”
“And not forecasted to,” Roarke told her. “You should be cheered to know the forecast included a good hint of spring. It’s a chilly start, but due to climb into the sixties this afternoon.”
“Huh.” That perked her up nearly as much as the coffee.
“And as they’re calling for a few days, at least, of this warming trend, they’ll start excavation on the pond today.”
“‘The pond’?” It took her a minute to remember the walk they’d taken on the grounds months before. Somehow they’d decided to put in a little pond, picked the spot. “We’re really doing that?”
“It’ll be pleasant, won’t it, when spring decides to come and stay awhile to wander out and sit by the water.”
“Yeah, it will. When does the whole thing about March happen?”
“Which thing is that?”
She circled a finger in the air as she gulped more coffee. “The one about the sheep lying down with the lion.”
“Lamb. The lion lies down with the lamb.”
“A lamb’s a sheep, and the lion’s lying down to eat the stupid sheep. I don’t get what it has to do with March.”
“Because it has nothing to do with it. I think you mean March comes in like a lion and goes out like a sheep. A lamb,” he corrected, dragging his fingers through his hair. “It’s a bloody lamb.”
“Yeah, it would be if it’s hanging around with a lion.”
He watched her walk into the adjoining bath and thought, Well, she has a point.
He had breakfast waiting under warming domes when she came out. When he lifted the domes, she cocked her head.
“No oatmeal?”
“To celebrate the warming trend.”