His lids fluttered closed.
But he couldn’t sleep. Not while Julia was absent and he had no idea where she had gone…or when she would return.
Then, as if by summons, she appeared in the doorway, carrying a bundle of clothing and wearing a red flannel sack of a nightshirt. A nightshirt that would have made the most celebrated of Venetian courtesans appear shapeless.
“What the devil do you have on?”
She set down the other clothes and spread her arms wide. “This, I’ll have you know, is aserviceablenightgown.”
“Serviceable?”For whom?
Her lips flattened. “At least it’s warmer than your nightshirt. Which, by the way, I release for your use.”
He thought about changing. Then he remembered—his nightshirt smelled of her. And after the threats Mr. Todd delivered, the less temptation, the better. “Thank you, but no. I’ll remain as I am.”
She shrugged. “Whatever suits you best.”
She turned to close the door.
“The top must stay open—Mr. Todd’s orders.” He altered his voice. “‘No lechery will be tolerated under my roof.’”
“Lechery.” She left the top panel angled, put down her lamp, and eased onto her pile of hay. “As if we weren’t too completely exhausted.”
Fatigued, yes.
On the other hand, were it not for that sack…
Feeling the pull of that needy undercurrent, he halted the direction of his thoughts. If he kissed her again, it wouldn’t be until he was certain he could promise her his life…and was equally certain that it was him she truly wanted.
She settled into her bed, fussing until the blankets covered her feet.
“Heaven preserve us from improperly exposed toes,” he teased.
She glanced up through her lashes, gaze admonishing. Then the humor faded from her expression. “There was another night rail, you know. A pretty one.”
“And you preferred the sack?” Did she fear himthatmuch?
“No.” She hesitated. “But I couldn’t take the nightgown, because that one had been left behind by a woman who’d been abandoned by her groom…” Her voice trailed off into silence.
Abandoned.
Surely she did not believe he would leave her now? Or perhaps she hadn’t been thinking of him at all. Perhaps she was fearing Cracked-skull wouldn’t meet her as planned. If Cracked-skull abandoned Julia, Rayne vowed to pummel him.
Thank him first, of course, andthenpummel him.
“Perhaps the maid made up the tale as a warning?” he suggested.
“No.” She lay down and snuggled into her crooked arm, her eyes never leaving his face. “Lily says you’re a good one.”
“She did?”And what do you say?“I wonder what she’d say about Edmun—”
Julia interrupted. “I don’t want to talk about Lord Belhaven.”
Well, that was definitive.
She chewed her lip. “Youarea good one, you know.”
Her words washed over him in waves of warmth. “A good one,” he echoed. “Yes. Absolutely. A perfectly rational, good gentleman, who procured a barn for a lady’s sleeping comfort.”
