Page 45 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
He barked out his boisterous laughter then, and the quiet moment between them shattered. “You are anything but shy.”
Coming off the bed, he gathered up the items that he’d used to treat her hands. “These will be in a cabinet in the bathing chamber if you have need of them.”
He began to walk away.
“Drake?”
He stopped, turned back, something dark in his gaze, and she wondered if she should be addressing him as Marla had instructed her, but it just didn’t seem right.
“Will things change between us when I remember everything?”
“Yes.”
He walked from the room, leaving her to wonder why he seemed saddened by the admission.
Drake. She’d never called him by that name before. It shot straight to his gut, caused it to tighten. He liked the way it sounded on her lips. Christ, if he were honest, he liked everything that came from her lips since she’d awoken in his bed. Even the tart tones were starting to have an appeal. She had backbone. He had to give her that.
He tried to imagine what it would be like not to know anything at all about oneself. It would be like falling into a great unknown. How many people, he wondered, would simply stay abed and pull the covers up over their heads until they remembered something? But not her.
She straightened her spine and charged into the fray. Oh, she’d grumbled and questioned, but he could hardly hold either of those reactions against her. He suspected he would have been pounding his fists into something. He would not have graciously accepted his circumstance.
She’d already left his bedchamber when he returned from the bathing room. After changing into fresh clothes, he headed out. He caught the fragrance of polish. Apparently, she’d done more than just prepare his bath. As he neared the kitchen, lovely aromas wafted around him. Had she actually cooked?
Stepping into the kitchen, he found Phee bustling around, setting items on the table, where the roasted pheasant sat, browned and glistening. His mouth actually watered, but it didn’t stop him from being irritated with her. “I ordered you not to do anything.”
“This was already in the midst of being prepared when I went upstairs to awaken you. And you’re most welcome.”
He came up short at the reprimand in her tone. He deserved it, blast it all. She had gone to all this trouble. He couldn’t help but be impressed by all she’d accomplished. He’d never considered her stupid, but she was quite the quick learner.
She pointed to a chair. “Sit. Enjoy.”
“You’ll be joining me,” he said, pulling out a chair for her and waiting.
“That’s being quite unconventional, isn’t it? To dine with the housekeeper?”
“Do I strike you as someone who follows convention?”
“To be honest, no, you don’t.”
She took the chair and he sat opposite her. Doing away with formality, they served themselves. Then she sat, poised on the edge of her seat, waiting for him to sample her cooking. She’d probably poisoned it. No, she didn’t know yet that she should.
He took a small bite. To his immense surprise, it nearly melted in his mouth. “It’s quite tasty.”
“You were correct. Once I got started seeing to matters, I remembered what was to be done.”
She remembered something she’d never known? He was fairly certain she’d never prepared pheasant in her life, had no doubt never boiled an egg. He almost questioned her on it. Instead he let it go because he would have to explain how he knew she’d never made her way about a kitchen.
“You’ll be leaving for the club soon,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And you’ll be gone all night?”
He recognized the trepidation in her eyes. “Yes, but no worries. Sleep in my bed. The nightmares won’t bother you there.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s a very comfortable bed and based on your previous times beneath my covers, you shall sleep most soundly.”
