But he had forgotten how small it was.
5
The bed was far too small.
Ariella stood at the foot of it, clutching her cloak around herself as if the wool might magically transform into a second mattress. The hunting lodge had one narrow frame pushed against the far wall, a straw mattress, and a mound of blankets that had clearly seen better seasons.
Perhaps he will take the floor,she told herself.
Though Maxwell did not look like a man who intended to sleep on the floor.
He unpinned his plaid with efficient movements, folding it and setting it over a chest. His sword went beside the bed, within reach of his hand. His white shirt stretched over his shoulders as he moved, the linen pulling across the solid breadth of his back. Firelight picked out the faint shadows of scars beneath the cloth, pale lines that disappeared out of sight.
Her mouth went dry. She stared firmly at the far wall.
“Ye should sleep,” he said, voice even. “We ride early.”
“I ken,” she answered, and winced at how breathless she sounded.
He watched her for a moment, as if waiting for her to find sense. When she did not move, he sighed quietly and sat on the edge of the bed. Boots thumped to the floor. Then he lay back, testing the mattress with his weight. The frame gave a protesting creak.
He rolled to one side, facing the wall, and left a narrow strip of space along the edge.
“Ye can nae sleep standing,” he said, looking at her over his shoulder.
“I am merely deciding which side would be best,” she muttered.
“There are only two,” he replied. “This one is taken.”
The slightest quirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, there and gone.
“Ye could sleep on the other side of the hearth,” she tried.
“I am nae sleeping on the floor like a stray dog,” he said.
“Then perhaps ye could sleep sitting,” she suggested. “Ye look like the kind who does that often.”
“I daenae sleep sitting,” he replied. “I sleep like any man. Flat.”
She swallowed. “Then we must share the bed?”
“Aye,” he said. No shock, no protest. Just that simple agreement.
Her hands fumbled a little at the ties of her cloak. She slipped it off and laid it at the foot of the bed. She left her gown and chemise on. Whatever else had changed today, she was not ready to loosen more than that.
Carefully, as if the mattress might betray her, she eased herself onto the empty side. Turning her back to him, she lay on her side facing the room. Heat reached her at once from behind, his body warming the straw and blankets. She had not realized how chilled she was until that warmth reached the length of her spine.
She tried to keep a hand’s breadth between them.
The bed made that impossible.
Her shoulder brushed his arm. Her hip brushed his thigh. Every small adjustment sent the straw rustling and the frame creaking. Her heart beat fast and uneven, each thud loud in her own ears.
Behind her, his breathing stayed slow and steady, as if he truly did not mind.
She shifted again, drawing her knees up a little. The mattress rolled and brought her that much nearer. She forced herself still, then lasted all of three breaths before her foot twitched against the blankets and she shifted again.
“Stop,” he said at last, voice low and rough with fatigue.
