suited this more daring Eliza.
Boldness only went so far, however. Eschewing anything other than a quick swipe of mascara, a pinch on her cheeks and some lip gloss, she hurried down the stairs and across the hall connecting her wing to Adrian’s.
The door to his living quarters was open and an assortment of enticing smells drifted out from deeper in the space. Her stomach growled once more and she laid a hand against her midsection, willing it to silence.
“Adrian?” she called out as she stepped into the parlor, not wanting to surprise him with her presence. He stepped out from the hall which led to the kitchen and dining room wearing a slightly soiled apron and a bittersweet smile.
“ A chuisle , happy birthday,” he said, leaned forward and dropped a brotherly peck on her cheek. “Thank you, Adrian. This really wasn’t necessary,” she repeated, much as she had all week, motioning to the apron.
Adrian shot a quick glance down and shook his head ruefully. He immediately whipped off the apron, surprisingly and endearingly flustered, she thought.
“It most certainly is necessary. I want today to be very special for you.” With a sweep of the hand which held the apron, he urged her into the hall and she walked down until they reached the dining room.
A large bouquet of yellow roses sat in a short round vase in the middle of the table and perfumed the air. The table was set for two, with one at the head and the other intimately kitty-corner. The places were set with his finest china and silver and sparkling Waterford crystal. “Beautiful,” she said and faced him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. The night is still fresh and there is so much more for you to enjoy.”
With a hand at the small of her back, he urged her to the table, pulled out the chair at the head so she might sit. Once she had, he trailed a hand along her back in a fleeting caress before vanishing into the kitchen.
The meal he brought out was a combination of all her favorites, and so was slightly eclectic: fresh tomatoes heaped with burrata cheese and drizzled with the finest Italian olive oil; yeasty bread with a crunchy crust; a thick Irish stew with hints of the rich Guinness stout he had served in lieu of wine. For dessert he brought out luscious strawberry shortcakes and a heady aged port.
As she sipped from her generous portion of port, she smiled at him, truly appreciating his thoughtfulness. “You’ve thought of everything.”
That bittersweet smile came again, tugging at her heart.
“Not quite everything. I still haven’t given you your gifts,” he said, the tenor of his voice low, almost pained. He raised his hand and cradled her jaw, trailed his thumb along the line of her cheekbone.
His tenderness made her hesitate. Silenced her from asking for the one thing she wanted most, beside him. Before she could utter a word, he slipped a small, gaily wrapped parcel before her. “Open it,” he said, a slightly more eager tone in his voice.
Eliza undid the ribbon with shaky hands and then the paper, revealing the leather-bound book within. It had the patina of age and loving care. As she opened it, she sighed. “Yeats.”
“I know you miss Ireland sometimes, and who better to remind you of our homeland,” he said. Smiling, Adrian covered her hand with his. “But there’s more.”
He rose and extended his hand to her. “Come with me.”
Hesitantly she did as he asked, wondering at what was to come. The moment she laid her hand in his, he scooped her into his arms and with a blast of vamp speed rushed from the room.
Her head was spinning from the unexpected motion, but as her vision cleared, she realized they were in his bedroom and that they were not alone.
John stood before her, his immense beautiful body bare and exposed to the world. His gaze was slightly unfocused and she wondered whether Adrian was using his vamp power to control her ex.
Eliza rounded on her master, anger rising within her.
Boldness only went so far, however. Eschewing anything other than a quick swipe of mascara, a pinch on her cheeks and some lip gloss, she hurried down the stairs and across the hall connecting her wing to Adrian’s.
The door to his living quarters was open and an assortment of enticing smells drifted out from deeper in the space. Her stomach growled once more and she laid a hand against her midsection, willing it to silence.
“Adrian?” she called out as she stepped into the parlor, not wanting to surprise him with her presence. He stepped out from the hall which led to the kitchen and dining room wearing a slightly soiled apron and a bittersweet smile.
“ A chuisle , happy birthday,” he said, leaned forward and dropped a brotherly peck on her cheek. “Thank you, Adrian. This really wasn’t necessary,” she repeated, much as she had all week, motioning to the apron.
Adrian shot a quick glance down and shook his head ruefully. He immediately whipped off the apron, surprisingly and endearingly flustered, she thought.
“It most certainly is necessary. I want today to be very special for you.” With a sweep of the hand which held the apron, he urged her into the hall and she walked down until they reached the dining room.
A large bouquet of yellow roses sat in a short round vase in the middle of the table and perfumed the air. The table was set for two, with one at the head and the other intimately kitty-corner. The places were set with his finest china and silver and sparkling Waterford crystal. “Beautiful,” she said and faced him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. The night is still fresh and there is so much more for you to enjoy.”
With a hand at the small of her back, he urged her to the table, pulled out the chair at the head so she might sit. Once she had, he trailed a hand along her back in a fleeting caress before vanishing into the kitchen.
The meal he brought out was a combination of all her favorites, and so was slightly eclectic: fresh tomatoes heaped with burrata cheese and drizzled with the finest Italian olive oil; yeasty bread with a crunchy crust; a thick Irish stew with hints of the rich Guinness stout he had served in lieu of wine. For dessert he brought out luscious strawberry shortcakes and a heady aged port.
As she sipped from her generous portion of port, she smiled at him, truly appreciating his thoughtfulness. “You’ve thought of everything.”
That bittersweet smile came again, tugging at her heart.
“Not quite everything. I still haven’t given you your gifts,” he said, the tenor of his voice low, almost pained. He raised his hand and cradled her jaw, trailed his thumb along the line of her cheekbone.
His tenderness made her hesitate. Silenced her from asking for the one thing she wanted most, beside him. Before she could utter a word, he slipped a small, gaily wrapped parcel before her. “Open it,” he said, a slightly more eager tone in his voice.
Eliza undid the ribbon with shaky hands and then the paper, revealing the leather-bound book within. It had the patina of age and loving care. As she opened it, she sighed. “Yeats.”
“I know you miss Ireland sometimes, and who better to remind you of our homeland,” he said. Smiling, Adrian covered her hand with his. “But there’s more.”
He rose and extended his hand to her. “Come with me.”
Hesitantly she did as he asked, wondering at what was to come. The moment she laid her hand in his, he scooped her into his arms and with a blast of vamp speed rushed from the room.
Her head was spinning from the unexpected motion, but as her vision cleared, she realized they were in his bedroom and that they were not alone.
John stood before her, his immense beautiful body bare and exposed to the world. His gaze was slightly unfocused and she wondered whether Adrian was using his vamp power to control her ex.
Eliza rounded on her master, anger rising within her.
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