By all accounts,it should have been a miserable night. My sister’s bed was too soft, the fire too close, and I was trapped in too restrictive clothing. But something about the combination of exhaustion, a head wound, and Davina negated the annoyances.
While I had a tendency to overheat in my sleep, it seemed that Davina had no such qualms. She had pressed herself against my side, her head tucked into the space between my arm and chest. A tiny hand was curled near her face—one with an equally dainty ring on it.
I should have been bothered by the sight. Mere days ago, I would have been. But proximity and Davina’s charms had ground my will down to a fine dust. And the morning light displayed those charms to the best possible effect.
Long, dark lashes rested lightly against cheeks softer and more pristine than the stockings she had shucked the night before. Sleep left her skin with a delicate flush. And a glance lower revealed—well, nothing I could contemplate and still name myself a gentleman.
No, any absurd dreams I’d had last night vanished startlingly quickly in the harsh light of day. The impropriety of our situation wasn’t any less improper. The attraction that curled hot in my chest wasn’t cooled. And the tender affection lapped over me in increasingly high swells.
There wasn’t the slightest chance that we might arrive in Scotland with my heart intact. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if we would make it out of this bed without an unwanted profession of adoration spilling from me unbidden. Davina had been quite clear—she had no interest in a husband.
The beast in my breeches had no such qualms. He was making a nuisance of himself, taking the caress of Davina’s even breaths against my chest as an invitation. Desperate for a reprieve, I considered how many of my nieces and nephews had been conceived in this very bed—that thought was enough to dampen his enthusiasm. Or it was until Davina nuzzled into my side in her sleep.
I abandoned my efforts as fruitless, instead allowing myself the luxury of dragging my fingers through her cool curls. Her ribbon had abandoned the silken strands of her plait in the night, leaving the ink-black waves to fall around her like a veil, free for my touch.
The stamps of young feet on the landing outside our door and trampling downstairs was enough of a distraction to cease my fondling. The sounds did not wake her though.
While I should, perhaps, rouse her, I was reluctant to lose her warmth. And once she woke, she would expect a solution to her brother’s situation, and the only one sleep brought me involved the perpetuation of fraud. Hardly ideal.
Another set of feet tripped down the stairs, smaller and less coordinated. The sound caused Davina to stir, pressing into me before pulling back a second later. Her already flushed cheeks deepened with her awareness.
The tension returned next, as each and every one of her muscles tightened.
“Would it be easier if I feigned sleep?” I asked.
“Honestly? Yes, please.”
“All right,” I agreed, slackening my limbs for her and closing my eyes.
“Thank you,” she replied, then pressed herself up with one palm. I caught the inside of my cheek between my teeth, restraining a smile.
“Please, do let me know when it is safe to awaken.”
“After I’ve left, if you please,” she retorted in the overly prim tone she sometimes used. The bed dipped as she pushed to stand somewhere near the end.
“I am happy to oblige. Except, I wonder, how is it that you plan to dress without my assistance?”
I caught the edge of a muttered curse before she sighed. “Fine. You may rise now.”
Still at the foot of the bed and clad only in her nearly transparent chemise, hair wild and unbound, she was a vision. And a punch to the gut.
Eventually, I managed the torturous task of rising from the bed and helping her into her frock.
“What are we to do about the carriage?” she asked as I worked the line of buttons up her spine.
“The carriage is your mess. Why do you suppose I have a solution for it?” I teased.
“Because you are Kit.”
“As it so happens, I do have a solution. Though not one I’m particularly pleased about.”
She hummed, as I apparently affirmed her earlier assertion. “And what is this solution?”
I finished the last of her buttons, tugged her hair off her shoulder, and brushed it with my fingers. “How do you feel about surveying your new estate… Countess?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, turning to face me.
“Myestate. It’s about a half day’s ride north from here. Near Saxilby. A carriage should be no problem for an earl.”
