She would ask him to leave… Her mind was hot and jangling… Tonight was enough, tonight was a mistake… She would ask him to leave.
She closed the studio door behind her and closed her eyes too, still holding the handle as she let out a long breath. The familiar scent of paints and spirits was a tonic, sharp and pungent, as good as smelling salts. She breathed deep. Again. Again. Then took a very, very long time to find her knife.
On the landing, pausing to steel herself, she jumped at the sound of a mouse scratching behind the wall.
This was ridiculous! Sneaking around at night, a man in her bedroom, a knife in her hand… How very like Jack! Only he ever got her into these situations.
It made her smile. She would tease him about it the moment the door was safely shut behind her. Laughter might defuse the awful tension. Laughter was what friends did. Laughter was normal between them.
But she stopped dead when she entered her room.
Jack was asleep.
It didn’t look very comfortable. He’d fallen asleep where he sat, slumped to the side with his feet still on the floor and his head on the pillow where his arm had lain.
Lucy quietly closed the door and put the knife down on her dressing table, wincing at the rattle it made.
But why bother being quiet? She had to wake him, surely? He couldn’t spend the night here. Dawn was only a few hours away.
Still, she trod softly to the bed.
“Jack.”
He didn’t stir at her whisper. And how very like Jackthiswas too, putting her in such an awkward position while he slumbered, unconcerned.
And how very like Jack to risk his neck climbing to her window. How very like Jack to suddenly announce he’d happily strip naked as though it meant nothing at all. How very like Jack to be here, in her room…and how natural it seemed, after all her awkwardness. Jack here. Jack asleep. Jack in her bed. She’d had many a dream that started like this.
Instinct told her to sit on the bed near him. She would’ve touched his hair, his cheek. She might have dared to steal a kiss—Jack always slept like the dead. But it would be wrong. He wouldn’t take such liberties with her.
Instead, she stepped closer, leant over him, and pushed gently on his shoulder. “Jack. Wake up, Jack.”
He stirred, giving a sleepy hum. And curse her heart for warming at it. But she pushed his shoulder again, not letting herself be soft, and his eyes cracked open.
For a moment he stared up at her. He smiled, and the hand she’d been drawing came up to touch her cheek. “Dearest Min.”
“You’re dreaming, Jack.” That soft, ardent look was back. Her voice was unsteady. She took his hand from her cheek and squeezed it. “Wake up, you lump. You have to go before the servants get up.” But really, he just had to go.
His eyes opened properly, and she stepped back as he sat up.
“Good Lord.” His voice was croaky. He coughed to clear it. “I’m so sorry. Did I really fall asleep?” He rubbed a hand over his face then the back of his neck. It was stiff, no doubt. He moved rigidly when he stood, as though he’d been asleep for hours.
“Is it safe to climb back down the way you came up?” She couldn’t, wouldn’t, feel guilty at hurrying him away, no matter how exhausted he looked. It would be unthinkable to have him found here.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? You look half asleep still.”
He gave her a weak smile. “I could do itinmy sleep. Besides, I didn’t come here only to get you in more trouble than Thornton.”
He went to the window and pulled back the drape. Lucy blew out her extra candle and shielded the other with her hand. The smell of the smoking wick was thick in the air.
It was still very dark out, and for all Lucy’s earlier thoughts about how Jack being here seemed natural, now, with her heart racing as he pulled up the window and the cold air blew in, it seemed anything but.
Jack in her room! And all the things he had said… It would seem like a dream in the morning.
He paused, one knee on the windowsill. “I’ll be here tomorrow, with my mother, my sisters. And I’ll be here tomorrow night, if you want it.”
He waited for an answer, but her throat closed, cowardly, the guttering candle hot behind her cupped hand. What shewantedhad never been wise. And it was still as impossible as it had ever been.
