“Be my guest.”
She did just that, filling his cup to the rim with the steaming brew without clinking the spout against the rim of the cup or spilling a drop of the precious liquid.
“You’re a very talented pourer, milady,” Daniel said, lifting his cup from its saucer and taking his first sip of coffee.
“That’s just one of my many talents,” Miranda replied, placing the small coffee pot back on the tray before sliding a plate of fruit pies close enough for Daniel to reach. “Wait until you see the others.”
“I like what I see already,” he admitted.
“Then I’m sure you’ll be most impressed with my needlework.” She grinned at him. “I’ll need to check your wound after we break our fast.”
Daniel groaned.
“Eat,” she advised, when she realized he was politely waiting for her to pull up a chair and join him. “I know you’re hungry. You needn’t wait for me.”
He didn’t.
He devoured two pies—an apple and a cherry—and drank his first cup of coffee in the time it took her to pull up a chair, sit down, and spread her napkin on her lap.
Daniel was eyeing a third pie when Miranda reached for her cup of coffee and the apple pie. “Help yourself to the cherry one,” she offered.
“I bought it for you.”
“One pie is more than enough for me.” She looked up at him. “I generally make do with tea and toast in the morning,” she said, savoring the last bite of apple pie. “And I’m not overly fond of cherries. I prefer apple. Besides, I had a light repast before I left for the party last night. You apparently did not.”
Daniel frowned as his stomach rumbled once again. “My last meal was Tuesday evening.”
Miranda took another swallow of coffee, then set her cup down on its saucer. She lifted the remaining cherry pie and offered it to Daniel. “Take it. Please.”
“Cherry is my favorite.” Daniel didn’t hesitate a second time. He lifted the cherry pie from the plate, swallowed it in three bites, and licked the cherry filling from his fingers.
She stared at his mouth, mesmerized by the sight. Miranda couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen an adult enjoy a fruit pie more. He reminded her of a child tasting a sweet for the first time.
Suddenly self-conscious, Daniel met Miranda’s intense stare. “Has my nose doubled in length? Or have I suddenly sprouted horns?”
She shook her head. “You’ve cherry filling on your face.”
“Where?”
“There.” She gestured toward the left side of his mouth.
He swiped at it just as Miranda reached over and captured a bit of the filling caught in the corner of his mouth on the tip of her finger and offered it to him. “You missed this,” she told him.
“Thanks.”
When Daniel licked the cherry filling off her finger, Miranda shivered from her head to her toes, warmth suffusing her body. She marveled at the effect. If the mere swipe of his tongue against her finger could produce such a reaction, imagine what his kiss could do to her. Miranda shivered again in anticipation. She reached for her coffee and rattled the cup in its saucer.
Daniel looked over and gave her a knowing smile. “You taste as good as you look, Miranda.”
She blushed, glanced down at the brocade robe she was wearing, then automatically reached up to push her hair off her face and smooth it back into place. “I’m a mess.”
Daniel finished his cup of coffee and placed his empty dishes on the tray. “I rather like you looking a bit mussed in the morning,” he told her.
“That’s nice to know,” she said. “Because until Ned returns, this is all I have to wear.”
“The robe is most becoming, and seeing you this way is not nearly as daunting as having you perfectly turned out and so sharp-tongued all the time.”
His comment gave her pause, and Miranda frowned. “Is that how you regard me? Daunting and sharp-tongued?”