My fingers undoing the buttons on the back of her dress.
Me feeling feverish and lying on the settee.
That’s the last thing I remember.
“We slept together,” I say, a nervous edge to my voice. “Naked.”
She gives me a withering look. “That’s what you’re worried about? Monty, I’m not going to make it weird this time. I get it now. Sleeping together isn’t the same assleepingtogether.”
It takes several moments for me to understand what she’s referring to. Then I remember. She once napped on my chest when she was a pine marten. She was so humiliated in the morning, as if I’d stolen her virtue. In return, I was cold and dismissive of her feelings. Because those feelings frightened me. They meant she saw me differently than I’d thought. She saw me as someone whocouldsleep with her in the carnal sense. Someone she could feel self-conscious around.
Someone she could have feelings for.
Which I don’t deserve. I don’t deserve anyone’s fucking feelings, nor am I capable of providing what any kind of lasting lover needs.
So I panicked.
I did what I always do.
I carved distance between us with sharp words and cold behavior.
Something I’ve since promised myself I wouldn’t do with her again.
I take several steadying breaths before that same panic can convince me to say something I don’t mean. There’s no reason to. I’ve already placed a much kinder boundary between us. I’m serving as her matchmaker. I’m helping her find a husband by Lughnasadh.
A bolt of anger shoots through me, but before it can grow, Daphne draws my attention back to her.
She sits up straighter and gives a consoling pat to my shoulder. “We did nothing that counts, all right? It meant nothing.” Her words sting despite her placating tone and the gentle smile on her lips. She’s parroting exactly what I said to her when this happened during the tour. Yet I don’t get the feeling she’s being facetious.
I suppose I should take some solace in her not holding a grudge against me, but…ouch. We didn’t do anything that counts? It meant nothing? She warmed me up and held me close when I was feeling ill. That fucking meant something.
“I’ll make us some tea.” She rises from the settee, the blanket falling the rest of the way down her torso, her hips, her legs. Now I see the silky undershorts I palmed in my sleep.
I force my gaze above her shoulders and reach for her wrist before she can walk away.
Her eyes widen as she whirls back to face me.
For a moment of pure madness, I imagine tugging her toward me until she’s straddling my hips, then cradling the back of her head, guiding her face to mine until our lips meet in a tender kiss. A kiss that grows heated as my hands rove her bare skin, cup her breasts, and tug those silky shorts down?—
I shake the vision from my head. What the fuck is wrong with me? That’s not why I touched her.
She frowns down at the wrist my fingers encircle, as if wondering why the hell Ididreach for her.
“Thank you,” I say in a rush, “for taking care of me.”
Her expression softens. “It’s what friends do.”
My mouth mirrors her grin, and I relinquish my hold on her wrist. Tension uncoils from my chest. “I suppose you’re right.”
She takes a step back only to halt at once, her expression shifting back to a frown. Before I know what’s happening, she stands before me, plants one knee on the settee beside my blanketed thigh, and leans down. Then her hands find my hair, her fingers running through my tresses.
My fevered imaginings return all over again, and I picture pulling her into my lap once more. Is that what she’s about to do? Is this happening? And do I…stop her? Why the fuck would I stop her?
Her fingers rake through another section of my hair, and I have to bite back a moan that nearly escapes. Blazing hell, what is she doing to me? I close my eyes and ball my fingers into fists at my sides, refusing to touch her until I know for sure?—
“It’s still damp. Sorry, I did a terrible job drying your hair.” With a chuckle, she ruffles my tresses until they fall into my eyes and then saunters toward the kitchen.
My chest pulses as I struggle to catch my breath. For my mind to catch up with what just happened. She was…checking my hair to test if it was dry, not running her hands through it for pleasure’s sake.
