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and the nightgown dipped lower than she would like. If she bent over too far, her nipples would pop out, but it was better than nothing at all. With a sigh, she decided it would have to do, since all the other Acceptables were equally immodest.
    Anger and anxiety warred for supremacy inside her as she stomped from the room and down the hall, clattering down the stairs with all the stealth of a marching band. It was deliberate, because she wanted him to know how angry she was.
    When she strode into the kitchen, Kat froze at the sight before her, so stunned that she didn’t know whether to laugh, ignore it, or make a scathing remark. Declan stood with his back facing her, including his bare ass, with the ties of an apron showing at his lower back and around his neck. When he turned to her a moment later, the comical sight of him wearing a black apron and nothing else made her giddy enough that she felt lightheaded for a moment as she held in a laugh.
    Her mirth fled when her gaze settled on the large knife he held in his hand, and she remembered just exactly who was standing in front of her. Even in just an apron and nothing else, she should still be terrified of him, not amused.
    He waved the knife in her direction with a casual swish. “Have a seat and pour yourself some wine. Food will be ready in a moment.”
    She’d not grown up in a household where manners were important, but Claire Blake had taught her a few over the years she’d lived with them. Her first instinct was to offer to help, but that fled when she reminded herself she wasn’t a guest by her choice, and he could wait on her hand and foot, because she wouldn’t offer to help him with anything.
    Taking the suggestion, which was probably more like an order, she went to the table and sat down, grimacing at the small, intimate setting in the kitchen. It was definitely a table built for two, and their knees would likely touch under the table when he joined her. “You don’t have a dining room in a mausoleum like this?”
    He didn’t look at her as he continued with whatever he was doing at the stove, but he did nod his head. “No. I mean, of course we have one, but I don’t usually use it. The formal dining room is far too…well, formal, especially for just the two of us. We might redo it when we start having children, to make it a warmer and more inviting place, but that will be a year or two in the future, considering you’ll be breast-feeding for the first few months.”
    She glared at him, though he couldn’t see her. “You’re certainly presuming a lot. First of all, I have no intention of giving you any children, and secondly, if I somehow spawned your offspring, I wouldn’t nurture it at my breast.”
    His spine stiffened, and his shoulders straightened. “You’ll take good care of our children, Kat, and you know it.” With a flourish, he turned toward her, carrying a tray that he placed on the table precisely in the middle. “You’re too kind to do otherwise.”
    She rolled her eyes even as her stomach grumbled. “How do you know how kind I am? You don’t know me at all.”
    “I know a lot about you. Almost everything. I know you were reaching out to offer me comfort the day the judge dismissed the charges against your father, and that indicates a soft heart.”
    “You weren’t holding me captive then, and you certainly didn’t expect me to fall in line with some crazy-ass plan of yours to marry you and give you kids.”
    Declan arched a brow as he pulled the lids off the dishes on the tray to reveal some kind of fish, covered with a creamy sauce dotted with capers, and a heaping serving of steamed baby vegetables. “I think you misunderstood me a bit.”
    She hesitated as she reached for the plate nearest to her, waiting until he had taken his before doing the same. “How did I misunderstand? Are you not holding me captive on this island because you think I somehow owe you for what my father did to your wife and daughter?”
    He