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Still, things seemed funereal given his current state.
“He hasn’t been eating enough,” the butler said as he backed off with the glass. “He has been very tense of late.”
She glanced at the elderly servant. “It sounds like he has a stressful job.”
“Very, mistress.”
“So his boss is difficult?”
The butler put the glass back to Darius’s mouth, and when nothing happened, Anne commanded, “Drink.”
Orders were followed again, his lips drawing in for a sip once. Twice. A third time. Until the glass was more than halfway consumed.
“So his boss is hard to work for?” Anne prompted as she looked into the deep blue eyes that stared back at her, the dark lashes setting off the resonant hue.
Yet she wasn’t sure what he was seeing.
The butler released a long, slow breath. “His… boss, as you say… has broken his heart. There is nothing sadder than a leader who refuses to lead, especially if he is sought by his… well, by those in his employ, as it were.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she murmured.
She and the butler both fell silent—just in time for the man between them to announce, “I’m not dead, you know.”
The voice was strong, the syllables forceful, and Anne had to smile a little. “I figured that, given you’ve had half my OJ.”
“Well, you told me to drink.”
Without thinking, she stroked Darius’s face, her fingertips running from his cheek to his jaw. “Yes, I did.”
As his eyes drifted to her mouth, a flush warmed her body. And then the butler was saying something about bringing dinner down here on trays. And Darius was saying something back, like yes, please.
And then they were alone.
“I think you need a doctor, not dinner,” she said.
“Let’s start with the latter, and then we’ll debate about the former, deal?”
“I’m not sure I agree.”
“Fritz can set us up over there,” Darius countered. “At the desk. And you can monitor me the whole time.”
“Or… maybe I can just feed you right where we are.” When his eyes flared, she shook her head. “No offense, but I don’t want to have to try to pick you up off the floor. At least if we’re here, you’re safe because gravity already owns you.”
“I’m fine—”
“Sure you are.”
“No, really—”
As he went to sit up, she settled him back down just by putting a hand on his chest. “Stay.”
When he complied, it wasn’t lost on her that they had done this the night before last, just with the roles reversed. It was also very clear that he was choosing to stay where he was, because he was more than strong enough to get up off the bed if he wanted to.
“I like the idea of paying you back.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “It feels fair, even though I don’t…”
“Don’t what.”
“I don’t want you to suffer.”
“I’m not.”
She wasn’t sure that was true. Not eating well? Because of stress? Still, sometimes the kindest thing you could do for someone was let them keep the illusion they were presenting—
Wait a minute. Was she stroking his hair? Why, yes, she was.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she flushed and took her hand away.
“Don’t stop,” he whispered. “You’re healing me every time you touch me.”
Instantly, the two of them seemed to lock into place with each other, the connection invisible, but powerful enough to make her feel like nothing else existed. And given what had been going on in her own life lately, what a relief to take a break from the chaos. The fear.
“Anne…”
Riding a wave of undefined emotion, she had to look away, her eyes traveling over to those landscape paintings that hung on the black stone walls, and the old-fashioned wardrobe that was no doubt full of suits, and the formal desk where that stationery with the beautiful writing was.
“This is like another world,” she said hoarsely. “Down here.”
When she felt her hand get squeezed, she realized she was still holding his palm in her own. And maybe she should have been shy or embarrassed about the contact, but as with when she’d smoothed his hair, she wasn’t. This house, the butler, the whole thing was so far out of her normal life… that it made her feel like she was in a dream.
And she could use a good fantasy right about now.
“Just you and me.” He squeezed her hand again. “Tonight, let’s just be… you and me.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Positive. I missed a meal… or two. That’s all. Don’t worry about it.”
The next thing she knew, the butler was coming back into the room, with what appeared to be a sterling silver tray layered up with a dozen sterling silver serving dishes. Somehow, the old man kept the load steady.
“Here,” she said, “let me help—”
Pressure on her hand kept her in place, and Darius said in a hiss, “Oh, God, no, don’t. He doesn’t like to be helped.”
