Chapter Seven

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The following morning, Lottie bounced out of bed to shower, and change into a stripped blue and white knit dress. She headed upstairs to the upper deck, where they shared breakfast and collected Zaid's papers on the way. He always liked to check the papers to keep up with the worldly news. As she expected, Zaid was up before anyone else, seated just enjoying his morning coffee, and views. She placed his papers at his side, and kissed his cheek in greeting, then went to see to coffee, and joined him.

"You're up early this morning," he noted, reaching and removed a paper to open, reading over.

"Why waste all this?" she beamed, placing her chin in her hands, elbows on the table, watching him. "So any big plans for today, or just slumming on our yacht?"

"Our yacht?" The corner of his lips twitched.

"I noticed it has no name on the side. Why is that?"

"Yet to be done. She has a name, but not commissioned as yet."

"Why not? So what is she called?"

"You'd find out, when everyone else does, Charlotte." She sighed, because when he clammed up, nothing, and nobody can pry him open. "It does say Lady," he stated flicking a page over.

"Lady what, is what I'm interested in." Her eyes narrowed. "If it's Chrissy, I'd flame her alive," she muttered under her breath.

He eyed her sideways. "Now why would I?"

"Lottie," she hoped to be laughed at. Shaking her head, she leaned back as breakfast was placed in front of her. "Thanks Sandy, looks good as usual." A full cooked breakfast, licking her lips. "Any?" A silver server was added to her delight and lifted, pouring rich tomato sauce over her eggs, and sausage.

"Charlotte I do wish you would eat in your room."

"Don't scoff until you try." She placed down the server back on the table. He nodded and had the coffee server poured out into his cup, beside his Arabian style breakfast. Remove a fork, she poked her soft poached eggs to let the sauce ease in on the top of the toast as requested. "What is so different between that dish of poached eggs in that spicy tomato sauce?" She offered her egg, and tomato on her fork that dropped onto his plate. "Oh sorry." She grabbed a teaspoon and removed the offending egg, and sauce that had splattered on his spicy omelet mix to remove, and popped into her mouth and smiled. "Not bad, herbs."

"How can you tell?" he asked dryly.

She dug in for more to taste, without the sauce and egg. "Hmm, still not sure." Removing his knife, and fork, he cut off a corner of the egg mixture and placed on her side of her plate. She pointed at the other foreign looking food to get a bit of each.

"Next time order your own, and that," he pointed at the sauce with a fork, "would be dumped overboard." Her eyes widened, horrified.

"You can't Zaid, it's homemade, full of spices. Try it," she offered the sauce to dip his little finger in, and tasted. "I knew it, since you like that other dish, but still my sauce. If you want to keep me, it stays."

He called her over by a finger and lean closer to capture her chin his hand, kissing her on the lips. "Behave," he growled, shaking his head, and went back to his breakfast.

"I see a little smile," she said teasingly. "Yes, I do, there you go," she laughed. He couldn't help smiling. "Babe you'd never get rid of me."

"Babe," he choked, horrified.

"Sorry," she chuckled. "Slipped out. Oh, the look on your face was priceless."

"Go away, you wicked girl, you're giving me indigestion."

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