Page 47 of Savage Game
He must have followed her gaze. “Do you want to try a saltine cracker?”
She nodded.
Byron stroked Charlotte’s calf and kept a close eye on her. A little color returned to her face, and she wasn’t shivering anymore, but she still worried him. Why hadn’t she taken better care of herself today? Should he have checked? Too many questions, and too few answers.
Charlotte finished her cracker and gave him a watery smile. “Thank you.”
Forcing himself to tip up the corners of his mouth, he cocked his head. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now.”
Taking a deep breath, he tried to control his emotions. She seemed to notice his concern because she placed her palm over his stroking hand and squeezed once. “Really, I am feeling much better. It’s just I got preoccupied with research and forgot to eat. That’s all.”
That’s all? Unreal!
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “Let’s address your apparent incapability to take care of your own body later because, quite frankly, I am displeased with the way I found you tonight. But you also made me curious. What was so interesting or important on the internet?”
“Will you sit with me, while I tell you?” She patted the mattress on her other side, and he gave her his first real smile for the evening.
“Of course, I will.” After toeing off his shoes, he rounded the bed, settled next to her, and pulled her in.
She snuggled into his side and let out a contented sigh. Then she started to tell him about jobs and requirements, GEDs and other studies.
Again, she blew him away with her intelligence, endurance, and her courage. That didn’t mean he was pleased with some of her decisions today, but he had nothing to say other than that she was fucking awesome.
20
Day Twenty
Entering the dining room the following morning, she halted in her tracks and stared at the flat box with a golden bow. Per his request, she’d prepared two plates.
“Ah, good morning, Kittycat. Right on time with breakfast. Very good.” He shook out his napkin and placed it on his lap. An irrational twinge of envy shot through her as the linen settled on his thighs.
That’s my place.
Sliding her gaze from the man waiting to the package and back, she made her way into the room. In the light of the new morning, yesterday’s events embarrassed Charlotte even more. Events she could have prevented had she listened to her body instead of pressing on with her online research. A mistake she made once too often for her own liking.
She placed his plate in front of him and stole a glance at his face—although he was well-versed in schooling his features when in business or at the poker table, his expressions when in her presence were easier to read. Now, however, he kept his facial muscles in a friendly and relaxed expression, but she didn’t miss the shadows in his eyes as if his inner sun was clouded. She swallowed and hurried to the other side of the table. “I’m sorry about last night.”
He waited for her to place her own breakfast and take the seat opposite of him before he reacted, “What is it you’re sorry about?”
Charlotte bowed her head. “I’m ashamed for forgetting to take care of me.” She lifted her face and met his stare straight on. “What grown woman can’t take care of her own basic needs?”
“Ah, kitten.” He tilted his head and toyed with his fork. “You would be surprised how many, but that isn’t the point. Since a very young age, you have been the caregiver—which is as ingrained in your personality as its trait is nurtured in you. First, by taking care of your grandfather. Later, by trying to appease an impossible-to-please asshole of a husband.” Some of the fire returned in his eyes. “For the last couple of weeks, I made sure you took care of yourself as much as you tend to my needs and wants. I want to apologize, too.”
Her head jerked back. “You do? Why?”
Holding out his hand, he pinned her with his stare. She dropped her hand in his palm, and he immediately closed his fingers around hers. “I should have made some arrangements for you. Left you a schedule, clothing, something to anchor you.”
“But I shouldn’t need an anchor.”
His fingers squeezed hers. “Baby, everybody needs an anchor, even the strongest of us do.”
“You don’t.”
“No?”
She pondered on the notion and came up with nothing. Byron patiently waited for her. She loved how he never made her feel stupid nor insignificant. Her thoughts and opinions were important to him. But he didn’t need her or any other person to keep him stable and afloat. Or did he? She gave him a questioning look.
