Chapter 12The following morning I woke to find myself alone in bed. The fragrance of freshly brewed coffee filled the house, and I smiled, knowing my lover was feeling more like himself if he were making breakfast. I showered quickly, dressed, and went in search of him.
“St John?”
“Go into the breakfast room, Robert. I’ll be right along.”
On the sideboard was a selection of chaffing dishes, and I hummed happily. The boy could cook. I helped myself to some kippers and eggs and had just sat down to butter a slice of toast when St John entered with a carafe of what smelled like Turkish coffee. Where had he managed to find that? Then I realised he was still in a dressing gown, and I forgot about the coffee.
“Are you feeling quite all right, green eyes?”
“Yes.” St John came to me, his eyes
