Alexandra

Chapter Forty-Five

"What in heaven's name is that noise?" Alexandra asked the next morning at breakfast.

"Rex. I left him asleep in the study." Her husband gestured toward the connecting door. "I told you he snores."

"He's louder than your ram pumps," she marveled as a footman poured her tea. "I'm surprised he hasn't wakened us in the night."

"Nothing could have wakened you last night." She'd never seen Tris roll his eyes before. "I won't be giving you any more wine at bedtime," he declared.

"I cannot blame you for that." She didn't remember falling asleep, and she'd awakened to find herself alone. But the sheets had still held his scent, and she'd been aware all night of his arm encircling her, his body curled against her back. "I was sorry to see you gone when I woke."

"I woke to find myself in the kitchen," he admitted, disgruntled.

"On the floor?"

"No. Just standing there, eating one of your sugar cakes."

"Stealing sweets in the night again?" she teased over the continuing rumble of the mastiff's snores. "See, you sleepwalked, and nothing bad happened."

Tris gave her a look over his coffee. "We were talking about you dozing off on me," he retorted.

She felt her cheeks warm. "I can only drink half a glass of wine. Any more and I—"

"Fall asleep?" he provided with a raised brow.

"Or get very, very silly."

He speared a bite of ham, looking thoughtful as he chewed and swallowed. "I cannot imagine you silly; that would truly be a sight. However, I'm not sure I'm willing to risk you falling asleep in order to see it."

Two thunderous snorts came from the adjoining room, followed by blessed silence. Rex must have rolled over. Smiling, Alexandra reached for the jam pot. "Did you make a dent in your work this morning?"

"A rather large dent, as a matter of fact. I may even find time to get out and take care of some business later in Windsor." He sprinkled salt on his eggs, watching her spread jam on her toast. "It won't take long. I promise to be back in time for dinner."

"I'm not passing judgment on you. I know you have much to do, thanks in part to my brother."

She also knew she wasn't offering him much incentive to remain home, given the way she insisted on defying his wishes. She feared he might have begun pulling away, distancing himself from her emotionally.

She set down her knife. "I have much to do as well," she said, watching him frown at the jam pot. She wished he would look at her. She was trying her best to be cooperative. "I'm meeting this morning with Mrs. Oliver to go over—"

"No!" His hand darted out and snatched the toast from hers.

She blinked. "Tris?"

"It's strawberry." He swiped a finger across her toast and licked, turning ashen as he confirmed it. "Strawberry preserves, not cherry."

"Dear heavens." Her heart pumping wildly, she realized the skin on the side of her index finger felt prickly. Spotting a telltale streak of red preserves there, she quickly wiped it off. "I should have looked," she said, searching her hands for other traces of jam. Finding none, she released a tense breath.

When she glanced up, Tris had gone even whiter beneath his tan. "I must have switched the preserves in the jam pot." He scraped rigid fingers through his hair. "I've done it again—I'm trying to hurt you in my sleep."