Flat-roofed buildings had staggered heights, architecturally anchored by the domed roofs of each corner building, which created spaces for rooftop dining, as well as a rooftop shower and soaking pool.
Between the pool room and roofs, he could spend every moment in the open air should he want to, just like his days at sea, as if the island itself was his ship.
There was no retiring from the sea.
He led Helene through the perfumed corridors between the pool room, into the smaller of the kitchen and dining rooms. Yancy Grove was structured so that it could accommodate his whole crew and their immediate families should the need arise, but it was also comfortable to reside in alone. After all, that was how he spent most of his time on the island.
In the kitchen, he indicated that she should take a seat at the counter-island bar chair, while he prepared them a meal, the significance of what had just transpired heavy and unspoken between them.
“You cook?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I like to eat.”
She grinned. “So do I, and I don’t know the difference between a sauté pan and a boiling pot.”
“At the very least you know what you don’t know,” he said dryly.
She laughed, watching avidly as he sprinkled seasonings. “What are we having?”
“Lightly seared ahi steaks.”
“Sounds delicious. You don’t have staff here?”
Eyeing her, he said, “Your pampered lifestyle is showing, princess.”
Hel made a rude gesture with her hand in response. “I don’t need staff. I just expected you would have them.”
“And why is that?”
It was Hel’s turn to be dry. “You’re a double duke.”
Her words landed like cold darts. She was right, though he had never truly thought of himself as Duke Andros. That had been his father most of the time and his stolen birthright otherwise.
Instead of the elation he had felt earlier, the knowledge came with a strange sense of emptiness. What was there now that he had achieved his greatest dream?
But to Helene, he said, “I started out as a humble sailor.”
Helene rolled her eyes. “Then became an admiral and a duke.”
He shook his head, grin flashing. “No. I was a duke before I was an admiral.”
“And impossible even before that,” she retorted.
Still grinning, he gave her a little salute before taking the platter of steaks out to the grill. Minutes later he returned to the kitchen, seared ahi ready to serve.
He set the table for the two of them easily, laying out island-grown dates and figs, as well as fresh goat cheese, bread and olives, brought from the mainland by his staff during their once-weekly trips.
He finally answered her question as she joined him in the bright sky-lit breakfast nook. “I don’t keep regular staff here because I like the privacy. I only have guests when I want them.”
But he found he didn’t mind sharing the space with Helene.
He had been observing her from the moment he’d seen her in the d’Tierrza courtyard, catching the unguarded moments between her forced nonchalance when her expression was fierce, earnest and so transparent he could read her thoughts like a marquee.
That this woman could be the product of Dominic d’Tierrza was unbelievable.
An entire world had gone up against Dominic d’Tierrza, and as far as Drake could tell, the only one who had walked out even remotely whole was the woman eating at his side. As incredible as it was, and despite the fact that he would have carried out his plans regardless of who she was, respect and affection for her had taken root in their short time together. He hadn’t intended or thought it even possible, but, beyond their incredible sex, he truly liked her.
Or maybe plotting revenge for thirty years had finally pushed him over the edge.