I couldn’t help it; I felt my mouth twist into a pout.
His eyes dropped to it, he stared at my mouth for a scant second and then he burst out laughing, throwing his head back and everything to do it.
It totally sucked that he looked gorgeous all the time and laughing was no exception.
“Get off me,” I snapped. “I’m hungry.”
His laughter turned to chuckles and he dropped his chin to catch my eyes. “I’ll give you what you’re hungry for, in my soft bed, in my big castle, I promise you that, Cora.” His voice dropped sexy, husky deep when he finished, “And I’ll take my time doing it.”
“I was talking about breakfast,” I informed him briskly.
“Right,” he murmured, smiling down at me.
“Hello? Noctorno? Aren’t we in a big hurry?” I called.
This earned me another blasted chuckle but he knifed away from me never letting go of my hand therefore he used it to pull me out of bed with him. And he rested me on my feet half an inch from his body, let go of my hand but crushed me to his body with both arms.
I tipped my head back to look up at him. “What are you doing now?” I snapped.
His eyes searched my face and they did this for a long time, so long, the scrutiny so intense, I started to feel funny but I didn’t know if it was a good funny or a bad one.
“Noctorno?” I finally said.
“I prefer you calling me Tor.”
I didn’t answer.
One of his hands slid up my spine and started to play with the ends of my hair.
Oh dear. I liked that too.
“My wife is exquisite,” he said softly and I felt my body still as I felt my lips part. “That, I always knew. But she’s also brave, defiant, clever and amusing. That, my sweet, I did not know.”
Holy crap!
“Tor,” I whispered but didn’t say anymore because I didn’t know what to say and because his head dropped down so he could again brush his lips tenderly against mine.
“Now I need to feed you,” he murmured against my lips, I sighed against his, his eyes, which were all I could see, lit with a light that I liked way too much then he let me go, took my hand and led me to the table.
Chapter Eleven
Sharing
Salem was clip clopping under us at a sedate canter as the magnificent countryside passed us by.
The clouds had shifted so now the sun shone and the view as far as the eye could see (and the stretch of what we’d already passed) was extraordinary.
Every inch of it.
I had, that day, learned two things.
One, a horse could look contrite. I discovered this when I walked outside and glared my displeasure at Salem. He gave me a look and if he could bite his lip, I knew he would. Instead, he ducked his head.
I let him suffer for about two seconds then I gave in, stroked his long, glossy nose and muttered, “I forgive you and anyway, you did the right thing, taking care of me and obeying your master at the same time. You’re a good horse.”
He blew in my neck.
Two, my husband could cook – on an old, iron wood-burning stove, no less. He made me eggs, bacon and thick slices of toast slathered in creamy, melty fresh butter. The food was awesome and not just because I hadn’t had anything to eat since the stew at Liza and Rory’s pub but because Tor could seriously cook. It was just eggs, bacon and toast but somehow he made it delicious.