Page 130 of Prelude To You

Roman lifted a madeleine and inspected it. “Sure, I’ll be back in my office in a few minutes. Let me finish my coffee here.”

“I’ll tell him, sir.”

Roman took a bite of the madeleine as Nelson turned to leave.

“What are these?” Roman asked, halting Nelson in his tracks.

He turned back to Roman. “Oh, those are madeleines, sir. A French pastry.”

“So this is what French pastry should taste like, I see.”

“They are marvelous,” Nelson said. “We were lucky to get a freshly baked batch this morning.”

Fuck. Please do not tell him who made them.

“They are lovely,” Roman said pleasantly. “Thank you, Nelson.”

Nelson shut the door behind him, leaving Roman alone with my madeleines.

The next bite Roman took, he closed his eyes for the briefest moment, as if evaluating the taste. I wondered if he was thinking I’d approve of the madeleines. If only he knew. His appreciation sent my heart aflutter and created new sensations inside me.

The ache between my thighs offered no resistance to the need I still had for the man, in spite of everything. I could imagine myself right there at his feet, on my knees, doing things to him that had probably never been done inside this library before. Those long fingers wrapped up in my hair, Roman guiding me to fulfill his wishes and commands.

Oh God. Please stop.

I had a comatose man to wake up, and every minute wasted here daydreaming about the unimaginable pleasure Roman and I could provide each other brought me no closer to getting Henry out of his coma. There was also the pesky fact that if Romanfound me here, giving me an orgasm would probably be the last thing on his mind.

Finally he took his last sip of coffee, elegantly dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and left the room. But not before lining those two books up with the edge of the table. With absolute precision. The way he’d pour a thirty-year-old whisky. It seemed Roman was defying whoever dared mess with his books, provoking them to try it again.

What he didn’t know was that I had much bigger fish to fry. For starters, how was I going to keep my presence in this house a secret from him?

I knew that no one visited Henry during the day, except Miss Leyland and the medical personnel, who were super-attentive. Even Nelson kept his distance because he couldn’t stand seeing Henry in the state he was in.

Granted this was a massive place. So if I kept to Henry’s room, the staffroom and perhaps the kitchen, there would be no chance of running into Roman. That was completely doable, and I felt the slightest sense of comfort.

The only tiny catch I could foresee was that knowing Roman was so close would not exactly help me get over him. In fact, as I was tiptoeing back to Henry’s room like a thief in the night, I could think of absolutely nothing but finding Roman and declaring my undying devotion.

There were only two problems with that scenario. One, even if I knew he was in the south wing, I had no idea how to get there. Chances were I’d get lost and my mummified remains would only be discovered by some archeologist a thousand years from now.

And two, I couldn’t imagine being rejected for a third time. Which would also be the final time if my analysis of Roman’s temperament was correct. If he hadn’t made an effort to find mein my world by now, he wasn’t as invested in this whole affair as I was.

Acceptance of that heart-shattering fact was key. Not that it helped make the lump in my throat hurt any less.

I made my way down the spiral staircase with the Monopoly game in hand. One would think I’d make a swift exit from the library and put the whole thing behind me as quickly as possible.

But no, I ambled over to the tray on the oak table. And yes, I touched the napkin Roman used to wipe his beautiful mouth. As if touching it might, just might, make everything okay. Which it didn’t.

As I made the long trek back to Henry’s room, there was no denying that lust and grief made for strange bedfellows. The one didn’t complement the other and I finally had to admit that if I stayed in this house I was in for a long and tormenting ride. It would be unbearable to know Roman was so close, and yet so far.

Maybe Le Petit Chateau wasn’t completely off the table just yet.

36

ROMAN

Icouldn’t help but shake my head at being so convinced someone else was in the library. And more specifically, Isabel. Maybe this was what it felt like to lose your mind. Not that I had time to lose my mind right now, because I had to concentrate on the board meeting this afternoon.

The first thing to do after speaking to Byron would be to change into a suit, since I couldn’t imagine the board would be enthralled by my casual attire. And of course, now every time I put on a suit, Isabel’s thoughts on Savile Row dawdled in the back of my mind.

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