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"I raise them. " He noted her glance. "I started with the native Florida species and have branched out since. Seems we both have an interest. Do you grow your own?"
"Am I allowed to speak?"
"A slave must always
answer when her Master asks her a question. " He ignored the waspish tone. "And please do. I love nothing better than the sound of your voice. "
That old-fashioned gentleman again, his eyes so intent, body so disturbingly close and attentive to the position of hers. "I don't grow orchids," she said at last. "Japanese tea ceremonies place special emphasis on the display of flowers during tea to match specific themes or just for contemplation purposes. I like the tradition. " He nodded. "Some sources say the very first flower arrangement came from Buddhist monks. "
"Saving flowers uprooted by a storm by placing them into containers of water," she finished. "Out of reverence for life. "
"Ironic, isn't it? When flower arrangements now are all about the deliberate cutting off the life of a flower?"
She didn't want to be reminded that he was an intelligent, interesting man. His sexual power was enough to overwhelm her at the moment. "There's a man who studies the art of flavoring teas with flowers," she continued. "He brings me his blends to try out and he'll bring me flowers to be displayed with certain teas. "
"So he provided the orchid on our table the other day. "
"Yes. It was a gift from some time ago. "
"And how old is he?"
She raised a brow. "You think a certain age removes him from competition for my affections?"
He smiled. "I think past a certain age a man's heart couldn't handle you. I know mine races like a teenager every time I'm around you. "
"He's a friend. "
"How about me, Marguerite?" He cocked his head. Her gaze lingered on his firm lips despite herself. "Am I a friend?"
"I don't know yet. "
"A cautious answer. You know what, Marguerite? I don't think I want to be your version of a friend, because a friend is someone you can put into a neatly labeled box.
Waitstaff, flower man, Dommes at The Zone. People whose margins of existence don't really encroach on yours. "
"Well, I didn't ask you to be my friend. "
"Careful, angel. Speaking without a direct question," he reminded her. "I'm also not worried about tripping over your admirers because you don't invite them into your home, in here. " He touched her sternum lightly. "You come out to hold court with them and take chaste strolls along the parapets. At the end of the day you roll up the drawbridge and leave them outside. "
Tyler met her gaze, held her in its grasp. He intended to keep doing that until it was second nature for her to look him in the face. "And I'm already inside, whether you're going to admit it or not. "
"Then you're a trespasser. My castle guard will locate you and I'll have you hung outside the castle gate and disemboweled as a warning to others. "
He noted there was no amusement in her words. There was a slight break in her voice. She was attempting to ignore his words but the most significant factor to him was the fact that she hadn't denied it.
Ladling some soup into her bowl, he picked up a spoon. "This is one of Sarah's specialties. It's a potato soup with fresh vegetables from Robert's gardens and a mixture of spices I know nothing about except they're terrific and I usually want to eat about a gallon of the stuff before I come up for air. Now, as I'm feeding you for at least the next fifteen minutes, I want you to talk about yourself. You. Who is Marguerite? What does she think about, dream about?"
"So you can tell everyone at The Zone personal things about me? Brag that you know what they don't?"
"You're very skilled at that. "
"What?"
"Changing the subject so we're not talking about you. Why do you do that?"
"Because most people aren't interested in other people except as it relates to their own stories. "
"I'm interested in you. " Brushing a finger over her cheek, he made her hold his a gaze an extra beat. "Only you. And perhaps I'll tell them Marguerite Perruquet is a remarkable woman, just as you expected her to be. Someone to admire. Open up. " He inserted a spoonful of soup between her reluctant lips, casually picked up the napkin, dabbed at her mouth. Was pleased when he saw the exceptional taste of the soup register. "Or maybe after hearing you talk fifteen minutes, I'll say, 'God, she's a bore.
