The door clicked back against the stop and she opened her eyes.

“I thought you might like some breakfast,” Rupert said, setting the large tray on the bed.

He studied her face, a soft smile curving his lips as he reached out to brush a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers lingering for a moment against her cheek.

“I wasn't sure what you'd like.” He indicated the tray that overflowed with an assortment of fruits, toast and pastries. “Tea?” he asked, lifting the pot.

Anya shook her head. “You,” she responded, her eyes twinkling as she reached for him.