Chapter 21
Henrywasnotknownfor denying himself pleasure. Indulgence in women, spirits, food, all manner of debauchery, were his modus operandi, hisraison d’être, his bread and butter.
And now, staring at literal bread and butter, he felt nothing.
“Bloody fantastic,” Miles said as he sat across from him, his plate loaded high with pastries, smoked meats, and fruit. “Did I use that right?”
Henry flinched. “‘Bloody’ is not entirely proper for breakfast conversation.” Miles’s American accent made the entire phrase sound utterly ridiculous, and Henry’s black mood precluded him from enjoying the humor. He turned his face towards his freshly bakedpaneand took a bite to avoid speaking.
“How was your evening?” Miles asked through a mouthful of prosciutto.
Henry lifted his head for long enough to cast him a withering glare, then looked down, stabbing a piece of melon with his fork.
Miles smirked. “That good, huh?”
“Bloody fantastic,” he growled, shoving the melon in his mouth and chewing with an intensity the fruit did not deserve.
Henry was accustomed to mucking up a situation; it had become something of a brand for him. But he never felt as disgusted with himself as he did the moment he left Ellie’s room the night before. She had been a vision, agoddess, as she came apart under his touch. He wanted more. He wanted everything from her. Her body wouldn’t be enough after this; he wanted her mind, her heart and soul to belong to him, as his entire being belonged to her.
And then he had panicked.
This was love. Helovedher, and the realization had flattened him. The waves of his longing for her had lapped on the shores of his heart for too many years. The shock came in knowing that belonging entirely to someone else, someone he trusted and admired, was liberating, peaceful even. With every touch, every kiss, he gave her another piece of his soul, entrusting it to her care.
Henry sat up, feeling as though electricity was fueling his bloodstream. Perhaps they could be more. If he proved himself, perhaps they could rewrite their futures to be together. He could do better,bebetter, starting now.
“Eleanor, good morning.”
His head whipped up to see Ellie sliding into the seat across from him as she greeted Miles in return. Her silver eyes met his briefly before returning to her plate. “Good morning, Henry,” she murmured.
Miles stood, lifting his cup of espresso in a toast. “I think I’ll take my coffee in the piazza,” he said, gathering his newspaper and hat. As he stepped away from the table, he leaned towards Henry. “Good luck,” he muttered, swatting him on the shoulder with his paper.
Henry grimaced before looking back at Ellie. She chased a grape around her plate with her fork, color rising on her neck.That flush must go all the way down—
“Is that all you’re eating?” he asked.
She paused her fork and looked up through the fan of her lashes. “I’m not hungry.”
“But you should have more.”
Her nostrils flared, as though he tried her patience. He seemed to have that effect on most people. “I will eat what I would like to eat without input, thank you,” she said, articulating each syllable crisply as she pierced the grape and brought it to her lips.
A bolt of lust raced through him as he watched her mouth move, and he cleared his throat and looked away. “I’m sorry, El,” he said, not quite able to meet her eyes. “I shouldn’t have left so abruptly last night. I don’t want you to think I—”
“No,” she interrupted, laying her fork down and smoothing her napkin on her lap. “I expected nothing different, or at least I shouldn’t have. I was unaware of the standard way to handle such… things.”
He raised one brow. “Things?”
Ellie huffed out a breath. “The intimate part of the… intimacy. After the act itself, what is the proper etiquette in your experience?”
Proper etiquette?What went on between them was far beyond his scope of experience. “I’m not sure what you mean,” he said, stalling for time.
She lifted her delicate chin and delivered her words with precision. “When you had lovers previously, how did you handle the aftermath?”
“Aftermath?” he echoed, his mind flashing to the moment her eyes met his as she climaxed, the complete trust and shattering release. He didn’t want to talk about other lovers, he only wanted to talk abouther. Aboutthem.
Ellie’s lips pursed, and she dropped her gaze to her plate. “With your previous lovers,” she said, her voice tight, “after you… engaged in congress, did you spend the night with her? Or she with you?”
He felt ill. “No,” he croaked. “Generally, I did not spend the night.”
