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“Are you okay?”
“Yes, just my pride.”
“Well, he trashed the kitchen. There’s no food. Valeria hasn’t eaten all day.”
“Sorry about that. I thought it better to keep her presence a secret than to call out for help, even if it was only Barrington.”
Vasile nodded. “True enough. Do you have any food stashed away in your cottage? Otherwise one of us is going to have to make a journey to town.”
As Vasile entered the sitting room carrying a big tray of fruits, cheeses, dried meats, and wine my stomach groaned on cue.
On an ornate carved mahogany table, he set the tray in front of me and knelt beside where I sat.
“I really am sorry,” he said, his eyes so tender and kind. “I would never have left you without any food.”
“You must take wonderful care of your staff. For a member of the house staff to have such decadent food and wine.”
“I show my gratitude for loyalty. In many ways. But Daniel is more than just a member of the household staff. Well, nonexistent household staff at the moment. When I discovered him, he’d been living on the streets most of his life, breaking into the houses of the rich and taking just enough to get by. Unfortunately, he got caught in the house of a magistrate and was going to be put to death. I gave him a different option, broke him out of jail and sent him back here as my eyes and ears. He’s more than proven himself worth the effort. Without him, I wouldn’t have this place, for starters. You can trust him, today and always.”
Either from the chill in the air, or from the emotion coursing through me, I shivered hard and gripped my arms. Vasile took note, grabbed an afghan from the settee and draped it around me, sweeping my hair aside, and then sat down on the floor.
“I will get you some clothes tomorrow. You can’t be running around in this cut open nightdress for the rest of your days.”
I giggled, looking down, realizing how unkempt I must appear, and yet also taking note I didn’t care. I felt right with Vasile, although it felt strange having this big beast of a man sitting below me. And yet, I didn’t mind. He kept one of his huge hands on my thigh in a sturdy, possessive grip. With his other hand, he took a candied fig from a simple pottery bowl and held it up for me to eat from his fingers.
“I can feed myself,” I said, a rush of shyness at the affectionate gesture.
“Sure you can,” he said, with eyes twinkling. “But I won’t let you.”
Feeding me the fig, he pressed the tip of his thumb to my lips.
When I took it from him, I sucked on his thumb for a little longer than was necessary. My clit responded instantly to the taste of his skin, the smell of his leather riding gloves. Musky and manly and utterly delicious.
He fed me cheeses and meats, taking some for himself as we ate in silence, enjoying the flavors and the simple act of nourishing ourselves.
After a few moments, I slid down on the rug beside him in front of the fire. He positioned himself so that my folded legs fit neatly inside the gap he left for me between his. Against my ankle, I felt the unmistakable heat and warmth of his cock and balls, resting on the fabric of his pants.
I glanced down at his groin when I was sure he wasn’t looking, feeling flushed and turned on by the realization that clearly, his pants had been custom made to make extra room for how big he was. It was all I could do to stop myself from moaning into my glass of wine.
Sitting there, we ate and talked. We got to know each other in a way that our wild passion hadn’t allowed us to before. I learned about where he had been for the last handful of years, and he learned about my life, about the shameful sort of privileged poverty that I’d tried so hard to hide from everybody.
But not from him. We talked about our fathers, his so much more successful and so different from mine, and about our mothers. About that particular ache of a mom who is unwell and suffering, and how much we wished we could help.
Guilty as well, that we were missing out on a certain care they were unable to provide.
Being there with him, it felt like home. More so than my own in a way. With every comfortable moment in his company, I felt myself falling harder and faster for him. It wasn’t just that I could love him. Watching him there, talking to me, staying close and attentive, I realized I already did love him.
That thought closed my throat in its own conflicted terror.
