And so she stood there, bent awkwardly, holding his hand beside the bed, feeling his pulse slow into a steady comforting beat…until she knew he was asleep. Only then did she tuck his arm under the covers, spread another blanket over him, and bend to press a kiss on his forehead.
Please do not catch a fever. She had no real experience nursing the sick, but shewouldif it was what was necessary to keep him safe.
With a sigh—she hadn’t realized how chilled and bone-weary she was—Rosie turned away. The soup was still warm, and she forced herself to sit and eat it along with a hunk of bread as she watched Bull’s chest softly rising and falling beneath the blankets.
Then she covered the rest of the bread and cheese for later, and began to perform her evening ablutions as well as she could. Thank goodness this traveling gown was easy to remove on her own. There was a lace-trimmed nightgown at the bottom of her trunk, but the thought of sifting through all her belongings…no, she could wear her chemise and bloomers tonight?—
Her gaze strayed to the bed.
Thesinglebed.
Well of course there is only one bed. You told the proprietor Bull was your betrothed, did you not?
Yes.
Rosie straightened her shoulders.
There was only one bed, and she wouldnotbe sleeping on the uncomfortable-looking sofa just to maintain some ill-defined sense of propriety. She’d seen Bull naked, after all! One touch of her fingertips told her how little the poor man had warmed since she’d tucked him in. He just wasn’t producing enough heat.
It was up to her to help him again.
So, after she’d managed her evening tasks and quietly set the room to rights again—as much as possible, at least—Rosie peeled back the blankets and climbed into the bed beside him. This time her shudder wasn’t simply excitement; he wascold!
But still, it was no great hardship to press herself along his side, to roll over and wrap her arm around his middle. Bull murmured something in his sleep, welcoming her in and shifting his arm so she could rest her head on his shoulder.
Now she was lying on her side, and everyone knew it was impossible to sleep on one’s side without a pillow between one’s knees, right? Perhaps Bull’s leg could act as a pillow, in this case.
So slowly, tentatively, Rosie moved her leg over his. She pressed the bottom of her bare foot against his calf, trying to warm it a bit, then allowed her knee to relax against his thigh.
There.
Yes.
In this position, she’d be able to offer him a little warmth. He was really quite comfortable, was he not, as a pillow? Or perhaps the long day of travel and the horrible franticness of the last few hours, was finally catching up with her.
Rosie decided she’d allow herself to lie like this, draped over him, just for a short while. Just until he warmed up a bit. Then she would roll over and put some more respectable distance between them.
Just…just a few…more minutes…
Bull woke slowly.
It was a rare luxury, and he allowed himself to catalog the reasons he felt so damned comfortable at that moment:
There were embers crackling in the hearth across the room. Snowflakes seemed to be hitting the windowpanes.
He waswarm. After the bone-deep cold of the river, the way he’d felt his body slowly shutting down as a woman had struggled to get him to safety, he’d wondered if that would be possible again. So he was warm, and happy, and?—
And there was a soft, supple body atop his.
Bull was on his back, completely nude. This was his normal state of sleeping, but he could feel the towel tangled beneath his arse, and remembered he’d fallen asleep wearing it for modesty. Now the thing had fallen off, and his cock was making itself part of the conversation as loudly as possible.
It wasalsoquite warm and happy.
Mainly because of the aforementioned body on top of him.
He didn’t need to guess; his Rose’s unmistakable scent—that faint citrus flavor—would follow him to his grave, he suspected, watery or otherwise. Only now did he remember her climbing in next to him last night, remembered thinking heshouldfight her ridiculous decision, but it had been so damned cold…
And if that didn’t tell him who was lying on him, her soft little whimpers of pleasure did.
