The preparation had only taken two hours.
Pet lay on the floor next to his meal with an extended gut and meowed in stuporous satisfaction.
“I'm heading back to Adele. Are you coming?”
Pet rose lazily to his feet and stretched, but was unable to move more than a few steps. Greyfriar grabbed the engorged cat and placed him on his shoulder, where the feline settled immediately with sharp claws clutching his jacket and scarf. Greyfriar then went back upstairs, tray in hand, leaving a war-torn kitchen behind.
Adele tried to still the dread thoughts in her head and the anguish gripping her heart. Everything had spiraled so quickly out of control. She had been forced to make decisions that weighed upon her like a mountain of stone.
The worst of it was that she was wasting her last night with Gareth. She was tired of letting logic dictate their future. Always the fear of their differences stopped them from going further. Yes, they were wildly different, but there was much about them that was similar. Despite the dangers and uncertainty of a physical act, Adele now longed to let go.
A horrifying unease invaded her being every time she thought of him leaving. If she waited too long the chance could be gone forever. She bit her lip. That thought jarred her. Enough with lamenting things that couldn't change. They would have a quiet night together and dream of days without war and strife in the sanctuary of her room. She refused to let her heart stumble over things she couldn't know.
Gareth had said he'd return soon, but that was hours ago. He most likely assumed she wanted to contemplate in solitude. Cursing her own stupid selfish behavior, she shoved herself away from the window ready to go hunt him. There was a knock at the door and Adele assumed it was Zarina with another attempt at a meal. She strode over and opened the door, ready to protest and bid her maid to go.
Instead, there stood the man himself, with Pet perched contentedly on his shoulder. Adele's gaze lowered and caught sight of the tray in his hands.
“I thought you might reconsider an evening meal,” he told her. “I cooked it myself.”
“You cooked?” Abruptly, Adele's throat caught. She bit her lower lip before it trembled. “Gareth—”
“It's my first attempt. It may be appalling.”
A smile broke over Adele's face as she tugged him into the room. He set the tray on the table on the balcony. Stars had appeared in the night sky, and filtered light from the city of Alexandria cast a warm blush over the Mediterranean shoreline.
She joined him on the settee and watched in amazement as he poured her tea with careful precision. There were even porcelain teacups, which he gingerly handled. “How on earth did you manage this?”
“Pet was no help at all, but it is rewarding just to see you smile.”
“You made tea,” she stated incredulously. “And eggs!”
“I had no idea how fragile they were.”
“How many did you break?” she asked, laughing.
“I'm not answering.”
“Two-minute eggs are my favorite.”
“Two minutes?” he said nervously.
Adele proceeded to grab one and crack it open. The yolk was hard and very firm. The whites were discolored and like rubber. “Well, five-minute eggs are good too. They smell a bit…minty.”
“That's the tea,” he said.
Her mind brought up that same day in the British Museum. “You remembered.”
“Yes.”
Adele lifted her teacup and took a sip. Immediately the musky flavor of eggs mixed with mint and something like coal hit her tongue. She made a great effort not to grimace. She closed her eyes and swallowed, and then smiled at him. “It's wonderful.”
She set the teacup to the side and turned to him. She wanted to live only in this moment and in the warm touch of his hand. Tonight of all nights, she didn't care about policy or species. She only wanted to lie with him forever. She removed his glasses and slowly unwound the scarf from his face. His hand lifted to hold the nape of her neck as she kissed him. Resting against him she wrapped her arms around his chest, clinging to him. Her eyes closed. Another captured moment frozen in time. She had learned to relish them more than any other. They were fleeting, as was his time with her.
“I don't know how to let you go,” she whispered with a voice broken by soft despair.
Pulling back, he brushed her lower lip with a callused thumb, barely touching her, and then kissed her once more. It was like being scalded with an open flame one second and then soothed with ice in the next. Adele closed her eyes and felt his gentle fingers move to her cheek and temple, ear and neck.
He pulled her closer to him so that their bodies crushed together. Adele's skin was flushed, and his hands were cool and reviving. She heard his scarcely constrained breathing as it drew in and out in a poor imitation of a normal function. Where his fingers were coarse, his lips were soft and firm. The contrast made her sway in his arms. He bit back a moan and pulled away from her again, but she wouldn't let him. There was no hesitation now. She ran a tongue lightly over his lips as if searching out one last taste of him.