He lifted a hand again, this time higher. “Say no more, baby, I hear you. I know she’s bein’ cool for us. But you’re right. We gotta see to her. I’ll take you both to Bourbon Street tomorrow night. Have fun, get you hammered on hurricanes, have more fun. Sound good to you?”
I knew his use of “hammered” was not what it seemed so I nodded.
“Is that all?” he asked.
It was not all.
I wanted to tell him that his world was advanced. The telephones. The televisions. The cars. What we’d been introduced to that day: escalators. And so much more. All of it was impressive. There was so much of it, it was astonishing. There was so much more to learn, myriad amounts, and the idea of that was exciting, as each new discovery had been. There was almost nothing similar between our worlds and he’d been right, because of that, this was the grandest adventure we could take.
Even so, from what I could tell, regardless of the delicious food, the conveniences, the wonders of manicures and pedicures and the existence of Nordstrom shoe department, I preferred my world. The simplicity of it. The quiet of it. The clean of it in look and smell. The unmolested beauty of the landscape you could see all around, even in the cities, something you couldn’t see here no matter how far you looked, unless you were close to the water and even then it was often cluttered with boats and bridges.
That said, there was nowhere on this earth, or my own, I’d prefer to be but standing in his bathroom with Noc but feet away.
“Babe?” he prompted.
I shook my head and did it shaking myself out of my thoughts.
“Yes, darling, that’s all. I’ll join you shortly.”
He nodded, tipping his lips up slightly, and he turned from the door.
I watched him disappear and took a long breath.
I let it go, turned back to the empty bags and began folding them away.
* * * * *
I sat astride Noc, my torso up, my eyes on my fingers, which were trailing lazily through the dark hair scattered to perfection on his chest. I then trailed them down, my thumbs dipping into the ridges at his stomach, tracing each box, taking their time. And again up, my fingers worshipfully brushing along the grooves of his ribs.
My touch was light, not meant to be stimulating, we’d both found our pleasure (for my part, Noc had guided me there twice).
No.
I had a sated Noc on my hands, our first night of normal coming to an end, and I found myself in the position of being able to enjoy simply touching him, learning him, stroking him, giving to him.
I drew an idle line over his pectoral and shoulder, running the tip of my middle finger down the outside of his arm, murmuring, “You’re quite talented in the kitchen.”
And he was. His shepherd’s pie was simple fare, but it was also rich and flavorful.
“Give you and Josette some lessons,” he said and my gaze darted to his. “We can all cook together. And when it’s just us here, you and me can do it.”
“Cook together?” I asked.
He held my gaze and repeated after me, but not in a query. “Cook together.”
“Mm,” I mumbled noncommittally.
There was silence as I averted my attention (and hopefully his) to drawing my other finger from the inside of his elbow, up his biceps, over his shoulder and down, where I flattened it over the bulge of his pectoral.
A pectoral that was slightly shaking.
I again looked to his eyes.
They were laughing.
“You have no intention of learning to cook, do you?” he asked.
“Erm,” I hedged.
“Babe, people cook here.”
“I had guessed that with the kitchens being an integral part of the home, open, right in the living space. Even Valentine’s home has an enormous space off the kitchen with sofas and lounges, which makes the area appear communal.”
“That’s because the kitchen is the heart of the house.”
It was not.
The parlor was.
Everyone knew that.
Though, apparently not in this world.
“Interesting,” I mumbled, and didn’t even try to hide I thought it was not.
His pectoral shook under my hand again.
I wished to roll my eyes but I didn’t.
“Frannie, we’re both stinkin’ rich, you way more than me, which means you could probably hire a cook. But you shouldn’t because cooking is fun.”
I could not imagine this was anywhere near the truth therefore I made no reply.
However, I did put it on the list in my head of things to see to, to discuss hiring a cook with Valentine, once I’d found a home, of course.
“Right, I’ll be the one who cooks,” Noc declared and my attention refocused on his face. “Just want you sittin’ there with me, drinkin’ wine and doin’ whatever when I do it because I’m thinkin’ from your attitude it’ll also be me cleaning up. That means, to earn your meal, you gotta keep me company.”
At his behest, after dinner, we’d left the dishes in the sink.
It hadn’t even occurred to me he’d eventually have to tidy them and it definitely hadn’t occurred to me he might wish me to assist.
I added a housekeeper to my list of new acquisitions.
“You can take the girl outta the House but you can’t take the House outta the girl,” he muttered, smiling broadly while watching me closely. “Everyone’s blood is red. Your blood is the red of the Drakkars. If it wasn’t, it’d be blue.”
My brows drew together. “Blue blood?”
“Royals, nobles, back in the day, way back in the day,” he began, “didn’t get out much. Common folk, they were in the sun. Worked there. Walked where they had to go because they didn’t have carriages or sometimes even horses. Couldn’t avoid it. The whiter the skin, the more noble someone would seem. Their veins were visible, looked blue, easy to see through that pasty-white skin. Blue bloods.”