Whoa.
What was that? What the hell was that?
Before I could process this, he was back, dressed completely except his suit jacket was bunched in his large hand.
He leaned in, put a fist in the bed on either side of me and got close. “You need to rest, pet. All day,” he ordered.
“But –”
“Rest.”
“But –”
“All day.”
“But –”
His mouth touched mine but he didn’t kiss me and he kept his eyes open, boring into mine.
I quieted.
“I took too much from you last night,” he murmured against my lips. “You need to rest.”
My mouth opened under his and I began to speak, “I –”
I stopped speaking when his tongue darted in and touched mine, startling me. It was a fleeting touch but even so, his open eyes kept mine captive and I registered a distinct, excited flurry in the region of my belly.
Now.
Exactly.
What was that?
A flurry? Caused by a kiss from my near-murderer?
That proved it. I was deranged.
“Rest,” he whispered against my mouth.
Before I knew it, he was gone.
* * * * *
I opened my eyes again when I sensed movement in the room.
It was light, I could still see the sun shining around the curtains so it was not yet “tonight” which meant, I hoped, the movement wasn’t Lucien.
It wasn’t. It was Edwina tiptoeing around the bed.
“I’m awake,” I announced, cautiously getting up on an elbow.
She jumped at the sound of my voice and whirled to face me.
“You’re awake,” she repeated.
I nodded, focusing on her. She was a beautiful, older woman, older than my mother. How I knew this I didn’t know because her face was nearly unlined but I guessed it to be true. Her hair was thick, long and white and it looked soft. It was pulled back in a ponytail at her nape. Like yesterday, she was wearing a gauzy outfit, a swirly, peachy-pink skirt and beige-pink flowy blouse cinched with an equally flowy scarf belt low on her waist.
She looked like a stylish hippie. Strange but true.
“Lucien spent the night,” she declared on a strangled whisper.
I kept staring at her.
Then I asked, “What?”
“Lucien,” she said then spoke no more.
“Yes, Lucien –” I prompted.
“Spent the night,” she breathed in what sounded like deep surprise.
God, she was weird.
“Yes, he did,” I replied slowly.
“Why?” she asked, still in a breathy, stunned voice.
Why did Lucien do anything? Because Lucien wanted to, that was why.
“He just did,” I answered.
“I don’t… he never…” She stopped then pivoted jerkily and walked briskly to the windows, throwing open the curtains as she wittered on. “This is unheard of, unprecedented. I don’t know what to say. I can’t even –”
“Edwina,” I cut her off.
She turned again and the minute her eyes hit me they grew so big, they nearly popped out of her head and she gasped. Loudly.
At the same time her hand flew to her mouth.
I knew I’d passed out before I’d been able to pull a comb through my hair and take off my heavy makeup but even what I knew was the sight of me the morning after her fervid ministrations couldn’t induce that response.
“What?” I asked in a frightened voice.
“Your throat,” she whispered from behind her hand.
My hand flew to my throat. It still felt that weird numb and Edwina’s horrified stare was making me strangely embarrassed.
I covered the area Lucien fed from last night and pushed up from the bed. I was still lightheaded but I fought it, put my feet on the floor, got up and headed to the bathroom.
My bedroom…
No. Strike that.
Lucien’s bedroom (I wasn’t going to claim anything he gave me) was the biggest bedroom I’d ever had. Painted a warm blush it had a king-sized bed covered in a decadent, fluffy, down comforter with a slightly darker blush, cotton-sateen cover with beautiful embroidery heavy at the bottom of the coverlet and snaking to lighter up the bed. Stacks of downy pillows of all sizes from king, to European to standard in cases and shams that ranged from the deepest to the most delicate blush adorned its head, some of them smooth, some of the embroidered. There was a chaise lounge in a corner covered in cream velvet, edged with gleaming dark, intricately carved wood. Positioned strategically next to its only arm was a small, ornate, circular table. Matching stately but comfy-looking armchairs, each with their own tall, plush, round, tassel-bottomed, button-topped ottomans were arranged in another corner. The chairs shared a carved wood table. A charming writing desk with a laptop computer and stylish desk accessories faced the room from the opposite corner to the chairs.