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“Oh, my lord. That is a shame. We are so looking forward to seeing you and our new countess.”
“We’ll be down tomorrow. Something’s cropped up here. I’ll let you know.”
“Very good, Maxim.”
Next, I call Tom and tell him to call off the search for Bleriana.
“She’s turned up here.”
“I say, Trevethick. What are the odds!”
“I know.”
When I’m off the phone, I wander back into the drawing room.
“Ladies. Shall we eat?”
Alessia jumps to her feet. “Maxim! I’m sorry. The time has flown away.”
“It’s okay. Talk to your friend. I’ll order us a take-out.”
“No. No. I’ll cook. We are not going to Cornwall this evening?”
“We’ll go tomorrow.”
Alessia turns to Bleriana. “Can you stay? Are you hungry?”
Bleriana’s slight smile signals her agreement.
* * *
Alessia makes quick work of preparing some lamb chops with olive oil, garlic, and rosemary for grilling. Then she starts making a salad with feta cheese, onions, tomatoes, and various types of lettuce from a bag. Bleriana helps chop the onions and tomatoes with Alessia. Maxim opens a bottle of red wine for them all to share.
“Alessia, ask Bleriana where she’s staying,” Maxim says, pouring the wine.
“Reading,” Bleriana replies to Alessia’s question.
“Can she stay here tonight?” Alessia asks.
“Darling, you don’t need my permission. This is your home, too, and she’s your friend.”
“I wanted to check you do not object.”
“Why would I?” His forehead creases with a frown. “What I would say—is it okay with Bleriana? Does she need to get back to Reading this evening? Does she need to let anyone know where she is?”
“Good points.” Alessia beams at her husband.
He’s so capable.
And asks the right questions.
Alessia quizzes Bleriana, who tells her that she can stay the night but must call the family she lives with to tell them. “I have a phone. They will be anxious if I don’t call them. I’ll do it now.”
She steps into the hallway to make her call, leaving Alessia and Maxim alone for the first time since she arrived. Maxim folds his arms around Alessia and nuzzles beneath her ear. “Can I tell you how much I love you,” he whispers.
His lips against her skin, the soft words in the shell of her ear send tingles down her spine. “I am very lucky to have you.” He kisses, then nips her earlobe, taking Alessia by surprise and making her yelp. She turns in his arms.
“I am lucky to have you. Thank you for being so understanding about Bleriana.” She leans up and kisses him.
“Why wouldn’t I be? She’s been through hell. If she lives in Reading, we can take her back tomorrow on our way to Cornwall.”
“Okay.” Alessia wants to ask if Bleriana can come to Cornwall with them, but she’ll bide her time and wait for the right moment.
* * *
“How is Bleriana settling down in the spare bedroom?” I ask when Alessia eventually glides into bed beneath the covers.
“She is okay now that she has the little dragon.” Alessia snuggles up to me and slips her hand over my torso and belly, bringing it to rest just beneath the waistband of my PJs. “You are dressed,” she murmurs, as her fingers skim the edges of my pubic hair, waking my dick.
“I am. We have a guest. I don’t want to frighten her during the night.”
She removes her hand, much to my disappointment, and trails it over my body up to my chin, where she cups my face. Leaning over me, she whispers, “Thank you.” And she offers me a quick, sweet kiss.
“Oh, no. I want so much more than that.” Pulling her into my arms, I turn us both, so she’s lying beneath me, her dark hair splayed out over the pillow, her dark eyes gazing up at me, her body cradling mine.
I pause, drinking her in.
But something’s off.
“Thank you,” she says once more, but this time it’s with a breathy, quiet plea that’s sobering. She cups my face with her hands, and tears pool in her eyes.
My breath catches in my throat.
Oh, God.
No.
Her soft entreaty almost undoes me and kills my desire. I gather her in my arms and roll back, holding her hard and fast on top of me.
It could have been her.
That’s where she’s gone.
It could have been her.
But she got away.
My girl. My wife. My sweet, sweet wife.
She lets out a gulping sob and starts to cry, and I hold her while she grieves for her dear, young friend and maybe for herself and all she’s endured too.
I kiss her hair and murmur, “I’ve got you. Let it all out. You’re here. You’re safe.” While my own tears stay lodged like a cinder block in my throat.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
When I stir, Alessia is pressed against me, her arse against my groin as we spoon. My arms are wrapped around her, and my nostrils fill with her delicious, arousing scent.
My dick, thwarted last night for compassionate reasons, is raring to go. Without opening my eyes, I kiss her hair. “Good morning, my love,” I murmur and hear a gasp that doesn’t emanate from my wife.
