The dining chamber glowed with the warm light of a dozen tall candelabras, their flames reflected in the polished silver and gold of the ancient tableware.
The long oak table, carved with scenes of dragons coiled around ancient heroes, had been set for a private supper. Thick velvet drapes in deep crimson hung heavy against the tall arched windows, muting the distant sounds of the city.
The air carried the rich aroma of roasted lamb seasoned with rare mountain herbs known for their strengthening properties—meant, as Chelsea had quietly explained while overseeing the kitchens, to restore and sustain a man's vital energies after days of battle and nights of passion.
She was aware of his multiple liaisons and was okay with them. She knew that he was a man who wouldn't stay put with her alone.
