Gathering her wits, she pushed herself off the table and slid to the floor. "Not much food, but plenty of wine."
"Good. I'm thirsty. But first, I'm going to change out of these stinking guard clothes and put on my plaid." He moved back over the threshold into her cellar and pushed the door almost closed.
Embarrassed that he had better self-control than she did, she shook her head and began looking for the crates of wine. Pausing, she glanced at the door, wishing she could see through it. Though she had shared the greatest intimacy with him, she had never seen him completely naked—only his upper body. What would the sculpted, hard-as-granite muscles of his entire body look like?
"Stop it," she hissed low and forced herself to focus on what she was doing. In front of her sat a crate with a familiar French vineyard name.
"What?" Wearing his plaid, Cyrus stood in the doorway.
Mortification seared her. Had he heard her talking to herself again? "I found the wine."
He came toward her. "Will the tavern owner mind?"
"Nay, I'll reimburse him."
After Cyrus pried open a crate, she lifted out a dusty bottle and placed it on the table. Holding the candle with an unsteady hand, she searched through a cupboard drawer, relieved when the light gleamed across a corkscrew. She took the utensil and twisted it into the cork, then yanked it free.
She glanced around. "I see no drinking vessels down here, and even if there were, they would likely be filled with dust."
"We can drink from the bottle, unless you're too refined for that." He raised a brow.
She detected the rare hint of teasing lurking in his obsidian eyes. "Humph, you're the nobleman." She offered him the wine.
He motioned toward her. "Ladies first."
"Very well." Not wanting to drink too much on an empty stomach for fear she would lose all sense around him, she took a small sip, then handed him the bottle.
"That wasn't much." He guzzled a long swig, while she stared at his beautifully sculpted masculine lips pursed on the bottle opening. The action was far more sensual than it should have been, and it made her crave another wild and illicit kiss.
He lowered the bottle and licked his lips. "'Tis even better than I expected."
"He buys from a small but excellent vineyard in France. I have him order mine as well."
Cyrus glanced around. "I doubt there's any edible food down here."
'Haps he was the hungry one, since he kept mentioning food. Taking the candle, she looked inside the cupboards and bins. "Carrots," she announced.
"Are they covered in dirt?"
"Aye, but we could wash them with the wine."
Though she felt ridiculous rubbing her hands over the carrots while he dribbled wine over them, 'twas their one means of having any sort of food this night. Besides, getting the soil on her hands reminded her of digging in her garden, which she always enjoyed.
Once the carrots were devoid of the dirt, they sat on low stools munching on the firm roots.
"I don't recall ever eating a raw carrot before." He quirked a brow. "'Tis something I would feed my horse."
She grinned. "Aye. They're always cooked in our stews, but the raw taste is not so bad."
He chewed another bite and swallowed. "When is Dalacroy's solicitor expected to arrive?"
"Probably tomorrow."
"And Dalacroy did not suspect the deeds were false?" Cyrus asked.
"Nay, thank the saints. No telling what he would've done if he'd figured it out."
"Where are the originals… if you trust me enough to tell me?"
