Free Two Roped and Ready [Bewitching Desires 6] (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) by Mellanie Szereto Page B

finish?”
    “Have Margita bring them. You’ve not eaten breakfast yet, and you must maintain your health, niece.”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    The light swish of clothing told Quayde that Heléna must’ve walked toward the exit. He pried open his eyes a fraction to see if Agnes had gone with her.
    “Ah, you’re awake, young man. Good. Breakfast is waiting for you on the night table.” A woman of indeterminate age moved into his peripheral vision. “Coffee, juice, and a generous helping of Rebeka’s cinnamon-bread French toast.”
    He almost groaned in pleasure. “You had me at coffee, ma’am, but French toast sounds great.”
    Levering up on his elbow, he stuffed the pillow against the headboard for a cushion. He’d make a trip to the bathroom after Aunt Agnes left so he wouldn’t give her a scare with his tented pajama pants. Lying next to Ilona all night, with her subtle flowery scent drifting to his nose, had put his cock in a state of perpetual arousal. The image of her naked form burned into his mind didn’t hurt, either.
    Agnes lifted the cover from his plate, waiting for him get situated, and then offered the dish piled with perfectly browned slices of swirled bread. A whiff of cinnamon made his mouth water. The bed wiggled, and he almost lost hold of his breakfast.
    “Damn, that smells good.” PC pushed to a half-sitting position and eyed Quayde’s plate. “You gonna share?”
    With an amused-sounding laugh, Agnes walked to the other side of the bed. “You have your own plate, Mr. Gallagher.”
    “Excuse me, ma’am. I apologize for my language.”
    “No need.” She handed PC his plate. “Eat while it’s warm.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He wasted no time tucking into the mound of French toast.
    As hungry as Quayde was, he needed information about his bedmate’s condition first. “How’s Ilona? Is she getting well?”
    Agnes busied herself at the dresser as if to hide her expression, but the mirror reflected her concern. “She’ll recover, but it may take several days.”
    “What happened to her? She seemed fine the last time we saw her.” He pretended to turn his attention to his food, continuing to watch her face for hints of deeper worry.
    Her mouth tightened into a grim line above the candle flames. “She has an infection. I’ve given her a sedative to help her rest while she heals.”
    That didn’t explain the wad of gauze. “Why is her thumb bandaged? I didn’t notice anything wrong with it before she left the apartment.”
    Agnes slowly exhaled. “Flóra found a large splinter in her thumb. She removed it and covered the injury to keep it clean.”
    Her stiff shoulders and spine convinced Quayde she wasn’t telling the whole story, or she was trying to make a big deal sound like nothing major. Plus, she’d told Heléna to take the old bandage to Szabina. Why didn’t they just put it in the bathroom trash?
    He wasn’t ready to confront Ilona’s family, though. They cared for her—that much was apparent—so they weren’t likely to endanger her.
    Turning to face them, Agnes’s gaze shifted from him to PC. “Are you willing to stay with Ilona until she’s well again?”
    PC’s fork rattled against his plate. “Stay? Like here with her? In bed with her? In her room?”
    Agnes nodded. “I believe Szabina explained last night that Ilona must not be alone. If one of you wishes to leave the bedroom, the other must be willing to stay until you return. She needs you both.”
    Setting his dish on the night table, PC huffed out a sigh. “Not that I don’t want to, but why? Why do we need to be here with her? What makes you so sure someone else can’t stay with her?”
    His friend had always played devil’s advocate better than the devil himself, and Quayde had to admit some of the same questions were whirling around in his head. “Yeah, why us?”
    Her expression softened. “You have a connection with Ilona. That bond is vital to her recovery. Do you deny that you care for