Page 95 of The Stranger

“How unfortunate.” His eyes darken as they drop to my neck.

“Yes, wasn’t it?” I quirk a brow. Your fault.

“May I get you some breakfast, sir?” Zoe asks as she shoos me to the other side of the island. I take a seat at the far edge this time.

“Non, merci. Actually,” he adds, “I think I will have eggs.”

Zoe cocks her head to one side. The bloke doesn’t usually eat around this time.

“I appear to have quite an appetite this morning.”

No. Nope. Not touching that and not lifting my head.

“Bien sûr. Baked or…”

“An omelette, I think.”

Zoe nods and makes for the cold store.

“With chives,” he adds, causing her to halt.

“I’ll get some from the garden.” She swings around.

The door closes, and Luc turn my way, reaching to pull the towel slowly from my neck. I have the good sense to fight the resultant shiver.

“Eggs? That’s very a very English breakfast.”

“Is it? You’re not eating?” His eyes drop to my mouth, lingering there for a beat.

“Err, no. I mean, not yet.”

“I do not like porridge,” Sylvie announces. “Or kippers.” Along with the long, rolling r, she gives a shiver of distaste.

“Then you should not have ordered them at the hotel,” Felix answers.

“I had to find out how bad they tasted. And they taste very bad!”

“Let Primrose eat her breakfast,” he says, loading a small plate with pastries and fruit from the platter. I can’t hide my surprise as he places it in front of me. Or my mistrust. “Eat.” His expression softens.

“I…” I nod and do as he says. Mainly because it’ll give me something to do.

“You should take better care.” His voice is as dark and rich as the coffee he’s ignoring as he watches me chew.

I press my hand to my pastry-filled mouth “Obf?” Hmm.

“Perhaps you might invest in better straighteners.”

“You think?”

“Hmm. The current pair seem to be unusually possessive. Leaving their mark on you.” His eyes dip and darken.

“Thank you for your concern. I’ll be sure to pay attention before further endangering myself.” My words sound as thick as the jam I spread on the remains of my croissant.

“I’m going to put on my swimsuit.” Sylvie scrambles down from her stool. “Primrose is taking me swimming!”

He smiles his daughter’s way. “Lucky you.”

“It’s just the pool,” Felix mutters, helping himself to another glass of juice.