“No way,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m not leaving Whitefoot.”
“All right, then lie down here. I’ll wake ye if there is any change.”
“What about you?”
He smiled wryly. “I dinna sleep anyway. Rest, lass.”
She nodded, then lay down, careful not to disturb Whitefoot who lay stretched out at the foot of the bed. “Youwillwake me though, right?”
“Ye have my word.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. In moments her chest was rising and falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. Reid watched her. The worry lines were gone and she looked peaceful. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to reach out and touch her but he held himself back. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman in his bedchamber and he’d never had a woman in here who was quite like Abigail Fenton.
She intrigued, infuriated and bewitched him in equal measure. She was bolder, more opinionated and braver than any woman he’d ever met. She was fearless and out-spoken and yet sometimes she showed a vulnerability that twisted his heart. He found himself wanting to protect her, to know every inch of her, and—what was more surprising—he wanted her to know him in return.
Reid had never been good with letting people in. He’d grown up in his step-father’s household feeling like a cuckoo in a nest. As a result, he’d learned to hide his true feelings, to pull on a mask for others to see and he’d been wearing that mask for so long now that he had begun to forget the man that lay beneath it. But Abigail had seen through it.
He got up and pulled the drapes across the window then lit a candle and put it on the window sill. Bo looked up from where she was sprawled by the fire and he settled her with a pat on the head. He checked Whitefoot’s dressing. There were a few spots of blood on it but nothing that gave him cause for alarm. Nevertheless, the hound didn’t stir as Reid examined him and he couldn’t help the worm of fear that wriggled in his stomach.
He seated himself on the bed and scooted back until he was sitting next to where Abigail was lying, leaning against the headboard. With a sigh, he began his vigil. It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 13
Reid woke early thenext morning. For a while he just lay there, staring at the underneath of his bed canopy, blinking to clear the fog from his brain. The first thing he realized, was that he’d slept a good portion of the night, which was highly unusual for him. Then he noticed that there was a weight pressing against his side. He looked down and realized that Abigail was snuggled up against him, her head resting on his shoulder, her hair tickling his chin.
He breathed deeply, taking in the smell of her hair, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his. She was still asleep and she’d drooled on his shoulder, but Reid didn’t mind that one bit. Lord, but this felt good! He curled his arm around her and gently kissed the top of her head. She shifted, muttered something unintelligible, and then snuggled deeper.
A sound intruded on his thoughts, and he realized it was the same sound that had woken him from sleep. Careful not to wake Abigail, he raised his head and saw Whitefoot sitting on the end of the bed busy trying to rip off his bandage.
“Hey!” Reid cried. “Stop that! Bad dog!”
Abigail came awake with a start and sat up, looking around with a startled expression.
Reid scooted down the bed and grabbed Whitefoot’s muzzle to stop him. “Dinna do that!”
“He’s awake!” Abigail cried delightedly. She came to sit by Whitefoot who thumped his tail on the bed covers and grinned up at her. Abigail threw her arms around him—careful not to touch his bandage—and buried her face in his fur.
