The Bed You Make
Chapter 9, Continued
Anyone else would have looked at the clock that morning and shrugged, especially after the unusual day that had gone before. Stefan took note of the time and immediately made a mental note to guard against growing too casual in his routine.
For Stefan Cassadine, there was no transitional phase between sleep and consciousness. Each morning, between 5 and 5:05 a.m., he simply opened his eyes and was awake. No alarm clock, no discreet knocks on the door needed.
Cassadine family members occasionally marveled at his ability to consistently rise so promptly each morning. Both Alexis and Nikolas agreed that the unusual talent was not natural but the result of Stefan's sheer will at work. After much analysis, Stefan decided that it was, in fact, his body and mind reacting to countless daily signals all around him: the faint roar of the main launch's engines as the pilot set off for the docks and that morning's deliveries, the subtle hum of machinery being started as Mrs. Landsbury began her day, the barely audible buzz of voices as the servants began to move about the lower floors of Wyndemere.
Stefan did not need to glance behind him to know that the current Mrs. Cassadine had finally relaxed enough to get a bit of rest. After nearly thirty tense minutes of lying frozen on her side of the bed, Dara had finally succumbed to sleep. She rolled onto her back. Her breaths were soft and even. Stefan hated to disturb his new wife's sleep. Dara was so on guard with his presence that any shift of the bed broke the rhythm of her breathing. Nonetheless, he pushed back the covers and rose from the bed. Just as he'd expected, Dara jerked awake at the disturbance. Her eyes were wide and just a bit panicked at the realization that she had shifted position in her sleep.
“There is no cause for alarm,” Stefan quietly reassured her. “I am merely beginning my day.”
Dara self-consciously clutched the covers to her chest. The light of dusk from the balcony softly illuminated the bed. “You begin your day at,” she glanced at the bedside clock, “five twenty-seven every day?”
“No,” Stefan replied, heading toward the bathroom. “I have uncharacteristically overslept. My day begins at five.”
“Breakfast is served promptly at 7:30,” he continued. “Your presence is not expected until then.” Stefan paused in the bathroom's doorway. “I believe a later rising time would be to your benefit,” he teased gently. “For an hour or so it would enable you to take advantage of my absence from the bed and actually get some rest.”
Stefan smiled at the indignant noise his bride made. Still, he noticed, Dara was not too insulted to burrow back beneath the covers in the middle of the big bed.
