“Is that so?”
I nod and wave a hand toward the desk, where the book I was looking through still resides. “I found your family history. Kane. Do you know what the surname means?”
Arthur looks curious, but he shakes his head. “I’m afraid I don’t.”
“Descendant of the battle,” I tell him, swinging my leg over his lap. Arthur’s hands settle on my hips, broad and warm. “You’ve gone to battle for me, Arthur Kane. I wonder if it’s in your blood.”
He hums. “What would that make you then? My king?”
A shiver rolls through my body.
Arthur’s hands glide up my sides as he leans closer, his lips near my ear. “Say the word, my darling king, and I’ll vanquish any and all that stand between us.”
“I daresay you’re telling the truth,” I whisper.
Arthur doesn’t answer, but the fire in his eyes leaves little room for doubt. I bring my lips to his, a gentle press, a thank-you for more than I could ever hope to encompass with a single word or touch. Arthur tugs me closer still.
“Pardon.” The voice comes from the doorway, Ruby standing in the opening with her eyes downcast. “Supper is ready.”
Arthur’s newly hired kitchen maid walks off, cheeks flushed. I turn my gaze back to my husband, who’s biting his lip and looking rather unrepentant.
“We’ll traumatize her at this rate,” I say, stepping to the floor. “It’d be a shame. I rather like Ruby.”
“Is that so?” Arthur follows after me, taking off his coat as he goes and settling it over his arm. His waistcoat today isgray, the fit accentuating the broadness of his shoulders and his tapered waist.
“Mm. So do try to be a little less alluring, would you?”
Arthur’s laughter has me smiling as we walk together down the hall.
When we enter the dining room, two place settings are out on the table, an oil lamp near for the impending night. I grab Arthur’s hand and lead him right past. He makes a small, befuddled sound but doesn’t try to stop me. We walk through the pantry, the fine dishware to our right, and on into the kitchen.
Ella barely blinks at our arrival, continuing to ladle soup into bowls. “Did he like the cookies?”
“He did,” I answer, pushing Arthur toward a seat before taking my own. “Although I’m certain, even if he hadn’t, he would have finished every bite with a smile on his face.”
She chuckles. “He’s no fool, that one.”
Arthur watches us with what looks like amusement, and Bess sweeps into the room.
“Ah, you’re here.” Bess inclines her head toward me and then Arthur. “Sir. Sir. Are you joining us for supper?”
“Are we?” Arthur sounds delighted by the prospect.
“It seems a shame to waste such good conversation,” I say, noticing Ruby’s smile as she brings over a stack of plates. “Of course there’s plenty of room at the dining table if we’d rather eat there?”
Ella raises an eyebrow.
Arthur simply hums, settling back in his seat as he looks around the room. “I quite like it in here. But perhaps we should put it to a vote? Dining room or kitchen?”
Ella tsks, the sound light. “The two of you will see the order in this house brought to ruins.”
Ruby and Bess exchange a look. I give Arthur a smile. Willard walks through the door, once again coming to a perplexed halt.
Arthur nods slowly, a gleam in his eye I recognize well. “I think it’s about time. What say you, Willard? Kitchen or dining room?”
“Sir?”
Ruby covers her mouth as she begins to laugh.
