Love Language (The Aristocrat Diaries 1)

And let’s be honest. That probably was the reason.

How long would I be stuck here with Miles?

If there was anything worse than being stormed in, it was being stuck in with someone who hated you.

I had no idea how to deal with this situation.

So I didn’t. I simply lay here in the dark with the fire lighting the library and my back to Miles.

At some point I fell asleep, because when I next registered my surroundings, it was to a glaring brightness that made me wince.

Was the power back on?

Could it be? Had the power gods graced us with it long enough to eat something that wasn’t cheese and crackers?

“Miles?” I whispered. “Are you awake?” I sat up, and when I moved my foot, I hissed a very unladylike word under my breath.

Ouch.

That hurt.

My ankle was as stiff as a board, like someone had put a steel rod in my leg while I’d slept. This was going to take more than a couple of days to get over, and that was time I didn’t have while I was cooped up with Mr. Grumpy over here.

Speaking of Mr. Grumpy… Where the hell was Miles?

Had he up and left me overnight? That was terribly rude if so. I know we’d had a bit of a confrontation last night, but surely he wouldn’t leave me alone up here.

Well, maybe he would. I didn’t know him that well, after all. It wasn’t like we were anything close to being friends.

Although we had been a little close at one point last night in the pantry.

Ahem.

No.

I wasn’t going to think about that. The more time we were forced to spend together, the clearer it was that my crush was very much ill-placed. Miles absolutely had no time for me. Our forced proximity had made that abundantly clear, and that was fine.

Fine.

Totally fine.

Absolutely okay.

I swallowed and looked around. The light was blinding—I forgot they’d been on before the power went out. There was no telling how many lights were on in this house. It could be literally one hundred, and it looked as though I was going to have to hobble about the entire manor to fix it.

Great.

I could at least start with this room, even if it was still a bit grim outside. It was still raining, but the wind had passed at the very least. I could handle a lot of rain and I could handle a lot of wind.

Wind and rain together, however, was utterly intolerable.

I dragged myself up from the floor with the help of the sofa. Before I turned off some lights, I was going to get some Ibuprofen and hope it got to work before I felt too much pain.

Maybe I had really hurt myself.

Ugh.

Using the sofa to take me to standing, I winced a few times as I attempted to put weight on it for the first time today.

“What are you doing?”

The sound of Miles’ voice made me jolt, and I fell back onto the sofa. “What are you doing? I thought you left.”

“I made breakfast since the power is back on. Apparently, it keeps going off again, so I thought I’d make the most of it while it was here. It’s only bacon, eggs, and toast, but I thought it was better than another lunchable.” He paused and looked down at me, lips twitching as if he were fighting a smile. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I was going to make today the day I assemble an army and fly to Denmark to usurp the Danish Royal Family.”

“Just as well I made breakfast, then.”

“Indeed.” I stared flatly at him. Why was he so handsome in the morning? God only knew I looked like a sheep that had been dragged through several hedges backwards. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It looks like you’re not having much luck assembling that army,” he quipped. “Is that Tudor novel you were reading going to your head?”

“How do you know it was a Tudor novel?”

“It’s titled ‘The War of the Roses,’ Gabriella. It’s hardly inconspicuous.” He approached me and looked down at me. “Your foot hurts, doesn’t it?”

“I was going to hunt down some painkillers,” I admitted, dropping the sarcasm. “I’m sure I’ll be fine once I’ve moved it some.”

“Well, let me help you into the kitchen. You won’t have to use it as much and you can stretch it on the stools.”

“I’m fine. I can—”

Miles grabbed my hands before I could finish my sentence, and I swear to God, all the moisture left my body.

Dry throat.

Dry mouth.

Hell, even my eyes were dry.

He gently pulled me up until I was standing right in front of him. He smelled amazing, exactly like my favourite laundry detergent, and I realised he was in his own clothes.

They must have dried.

It also meant his t-shirt fit him like a glove.