“I thought you the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.” A pause. “I still do.”
She was quiet for so long, he wondered if she had even heard him.
Finally, she cleared her throat. “Mmm, much better.”
“Pardon?”
“Your wooing.” She set down her mug and stood up, stirring the fire which had devolved to rapidly cooling coals at this point. “Keep . . . keep using pretty phrases like that.”
“That I find you beautiful?”
“Aye.” She turned to look at him. “It sends shivers down my spine when ye say it . . . so matter-of-fact, as if it’s patently obvious.”
He frowned, setting down his own mug. “Haven’t you a mirror? Itispatently obvious.”
“Please,” she snorted in disbelief. “I am an overly-tall, overly-educated, outspoken lady with hair the color of maple leaves in October and skin that appears speckled with mud. Polite Society only tolerates my presence because my father is an earl, and my dowry rivaled a maharajah’s treasury.”
What the bloody hell?!
“Come here,” he motioned.
She folded her arms. “Why?”
“Because I tire of talking to your specter huddled there.” He pointed to her own chair. “And my chair is large enough for us both.”
She snorted. “Aye, if I am practically sitting on your lap.”
“That was the basic idea . . . yes.” He raised an eyebrow and lifted his blanket in invitation. “It’s simple mathematics. Two bodies in one space are warmer than just one.”
“Opting forlogos, are ye?”
“I am indeed. We cannot put more peat on the fire, as we wish to conserve our stores, therefore the room will continue to cool. Consolidating our body heat would merely be a practical application of Newton’s Law of Cooling.”
“Ensuring that a larger portion of our bodies’ heat loss is transferred to one another instead of the room at large?”
Heaven help him but he adored her intelligence.
“Precisely.” He patted his thighs. “Fourier’s equation could apply specific numbers for heat transference, if you would like.”
On a sigh, she draped her own blanket around her shoulders. “Ihavealways admired Fourier’s equation of thermal conductivity. And I suppose we have put it to good use in the past.”
“In the ice house? Indeed, we did.”
He slid to the left, giving her room to maneuver.
Gingerly, she draped her knees over his thighs and perched her bottom on the seat to his right. He dragged his blanket over both their legs and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her against him. She shifted her own blanket around her shoulders and used the excess to cover his chest.
As in the ice house, she melted into him, happily sinking her weight into his body, tucking her arms between them, and resting her head on his shoulder.
And as then, Tristan wanted to simultaneously sigh in contentment and groan in pleasure. Unlike then, he gave himself over to the delectable feel of her in his arms—the curve of her bosom against his ribs, the press of her thighs over his, the heat of her palm on his heart.
“This is cozy,” she murmured.
“It is.” Wonderfully so.
“You are deliciously warm.” She burrowed further into him. “An excellent practitioner of thermal conduction.”
“Thank you.”
