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And that didn’t include being escorted everywhere she went every minute of the day. So far, Rafe had treated her exactly in the hothouse-flower way that her own parents always had. He might be content with his lifestyle, but he clearly didn’t think it was right for her.
Before she’d known who he was, she’d woven the most ridiculous romantic fantasies about her mysterious lover. Now, she could only thank heaven that she’d gotten wise.
Of course she didn’t love him.
She repeated that to herself the whole way out to the kitchen w
here he was waiting for her.
“Ready for another lesson in preparing American cuisine?” Rafe stood at the counter, where he’d assembled what looked like half his kitchen’s worth of cooking equipment.
“Ready for another lesson in preparing any kind of cuisine,” she said lightly, walking across the room to join him. It was hard to meet his eyes after the thoughts that had just been running around in her brain, so she concentrated on the items before her.
Without thinking about what she was doing, she opened the cabinet doors beneath his sink and withdrew a dishpan, drainer, dish soap and a cleaning cloth. Automatically she began to fill the dishpan with hot water.
“What are you doing?”
She glanced at him. “Getting out the cleaning things so we can get rid of the mess as we make it.”
“Since when does a princess think about cleaning up? Don’t you have servants for the menial tasks?”
His tone had been merely curious, but it still made her bristle. “You were raised much as I was. You already know the answer to that.”
“But I wasn’t,” he said. “Remember? I lived at school most of my childhood. And, believe me, one learned to clean up at those venerable institutions.”
“Kitchen duty for breaking the rules?” She smiled, determined to keep a civil distance between them. After all, he was her host.
“Occasionally.” He grimaced. “Bathroom duty was worse.”
“Infinitely.” Genuine amusement lit her eyes. “Although there’s a tremendous satisfaction to be gained from seeing porcelain and steel gleam through your efforts.”
“And how would you know that?” He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “I can’t imagine you scrubbing toilets in the family castles.”
She chuckled. “I can’t quite see that myself. But for the past three years, I’ve volunteered at a children’s hospital.”
“And they asked you to clean their bathrooms?” He was grinning.
“I did anything that was necessary,” she said, her face growing serious. “It would be a terribly bad example for others to see me pick and choose tasks as if I were too important for some.”
He didn’t want to let her see how impressed he was by her attitude. By all rights, she should be a spoiled, demanding brat, but she wasn’t. In fact, she was one of the most conscientious, sensible women he’d met in a long time, he thought, recalling her concern when she thought her parents might be worrying about her.
But all he said was, “Good point. Now, are you ready to make your first jen-yoo-wine American entrée?”
She laughed. “Ready.”
It wasn’t until later that the fragile truce ended.
They’d put together the casserole she’d chosen, which thankfully had been pretty straightforward. While he’d become a credible cook since he’d been forced to feed himself, Rafe was under no illusions about the limitations of his culinary skills.
As she’d insisted, they cleaned up the dishes as they went so there wouldn’t be a huge mess at the end. He liked the idea since he usually had a mini-disaster area in his kitchen after any cooking effort.
As she passed him the final mixing bowl to dry and put away, she folded the dishtowel over its bar. They worked well together, he realized. That would be helpful after they were married, one area in which they could be relatively compatible.
After they were married. A few weeks ago—hell, a few days ago—he’d have thought someone who mentioned marriage and Rafe Thorton in the same sentence was insane.
But everything was different now. When had he realized that? So, okay, maybe she wasn’t what he’d envisioned when he’d entertained hazy, half-formed thoughts of a wife and family. But she was carrying his child and that made all the difference. That and the way she goes up in flames every time you touch her.
It would be best to get things settled between them quickly, he decided. He clattered the bowl into the cabinet and closed the door, then turned and walked to her. She merely looked at him with puzzled, wary eyes when he took her hands.
