Charles sighed; he knew he should have checked the room and cleared it before he retrieved Ariel. “Off with you, you nosy little beast,” he shooed halfheartedly. The cat merely looked at him and Charles swore he heard a scoff of dismissal.
“I did not know you had a cat,” Ariel said, reaching up to offer the animal her fingertips. The cat sniffed them delicately before rubbing his cheek against her palm. “Did he belong to the old duke?’
“No, but I still inherited the little monster. His owner was one of my firm’s partners back in Boston. He was a confirmed bachelor and there was no one to take him after his owner died, so I was stuck with the thing. I had to cart him clear across the ocean because the damned thing refuses to eat if I’m not the one to feed him. Fresh fish, cream, gourmet delights—doesn’t matter, I’ve tried it all and he must see that I am the one to place the food out for him or he will starve himself.”
Of course, the cat could stand to lose a pound or nine, but that was beside the point. The cursed cat had found a way to make Charles quite literally cater to him and there was no turning back now that they were three years into the forced parasitic relationship.
Ariel giggled and he cocked a brow at her, bending an elbow and resting his jaw on his palm to look down at her. “What is so amusing?” he demanded in a haughty tone, but she saw right through his bluster.
“Just that you may be a duke now, but you are still at the mercy of a small creature. What is his name?”
“Barnabus,” Charles groused, slightly annoyed that she believed he was at the cat’s beck and call. “A rather lofty name for a cat so large and round it might have killed a small dog merely by sitting upon it.”
“Don’t listen to him, darling,” Ariel cooed as the cat bumped his forehead into hers. “You are perfect.”
Charles narrowed his eyes at the cat, oddly jealous of the chin scratches he was receiving. “Enough about the little menace,” he said, pulling her hand to his lips and pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the soft palm. “I’ve thought of little else but you since last night…” He rolled her beneath him with one swift tug and nuzzled his nose to hers. “And I’m ravenous.”
Charles spent the following hour worshiping her like the goddess she was.
∞∞∞
Their next opportunity for a meeting came the following day; at least Arni was relatively predictable when it came to his “errands.” Ariel was deliciously sore in unexpected places as she made her walk over to Charles’ house, taking a slightly different route this time to lessen the chance of being noticed and recognized.
As before, Charles met her at the garden gate, greeting her with a kiss that made her toes curl inside her slippers, before spiriting her up to his bedchamber.
Having anticipated their arrival, the enormous black cat had already claimed a spot in the very center of the bed to survey their entrance with all the regal disinterest of a lifelong monarch. While Charles secured the door, Ariel slipped her reticule with its stolen surprise from her wrist.
“Hello, Mr. Bibbles,” she cooed and ran her nails along the cat’s silky head. She was immediately rewarded with a rumbling purr.
“What the devil did you just call him?” Charles’ head whipped around.
“I was thinking a great deal about it and I believe it’s a darling little nickname. It suits him.”
“I am trying very hard not to be offended that you thought of my cat in such depth after leaving here, and not me,” he groused.
“Oh, I thought of you as well,” she replied evenly, her cheeks burning with the truth.
Charles cleared his throat before he spoke again. “Barnabus is the cat’s name and Barnabus is what you shall call him.”
Ariel wrinkled her nose and shot him a look over her shoulder. “It’s so stuffy and silly.”
“AndMr. Bibblesis so much more dignified?” he demanded, horrified.
Ariel lifted a shoulder in a shrug and pulled the prize from her reticule. She’d shoved a fat little kipper wrapped in a napkin and greasy paper into the small bag before she’d slipped from her home. The reticule would likely forever reek of fish now, but it was her least favorite one anyway and she hadn’t been able to resist testing Charles’ claim that the cat would eat only from his hand or not at all.
“We shall see which name he prefers.”
Charles’ brow furrowed deeply, but he went along with her game. Each of them called to the cat with their preferred moniker, Mr. Bibbles or Barnabus. The cat eyed them both, sniffed the air, and, in the end, it was no real contest. He sauntered over to Ariel and plucked the proffered kipper from the paper, wolfing it down faster than should have been possible.
“Damned traitor,” Charles grumbled and Ariel laughed in response. “Don’t be so put out, Charles; you didn’t stand a chance against the kipper.” She grinned and set aside the scraps and her reticule. “I know you dote upon Mr. Bibbles.”
“I donotdote upon him,” Charles denied her accusation and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “The fickle beast is ungrateful and has simply moved on to greener pastures. Clearly, the little demon will accept food from your hand; perhaps I’ll deposit him at your doorstep when it’s time for me to leave.”
What should have been in jest served only to dump cold water over their situation; the reality of their finite time came crashing down around them. Truth be told, Ariel had thought of little else these last several days—that Charles’ departure and the termination of their agreement grew closer with every passing hour—but it was the first glimpse she’d had that Charles might not be as immune to this fact as she’d believed. She read it in the aversion of his eyes after the comment had slipped past his lips, the tightness in his angular jaw, the words he whispered in her ear when their slick bodies were inter- twined…
Emboldened by this, Ariel rose to her feet and shook the wrinkles from her skirts. It was difficult to mask the mischievous smile threatening to break free.
“Are you jealous of the cat?” she goaded him but pressed a finger to his parted lips before he could protest. “I assure you, I am much more partial to your charms than his. Although…”Her finger trailed down and she allowed her nail to graze the underside of his chin, trace his jawline, and down the bobbing knob in his throat. He emitted a soft, low growl not unlike a cat’s purr. “It seems that you are equally seduced by a scratch on the chin.” She cupped his cheek and he nuzzled into her palm.
