“It’s April.”
“Precisely. At the rate we’re traveling, it could be months.”
Ihumphedat his jest and opened the door for him. He carried me all the way back to the earl’s chambers, his arms never once faltering. His breath never deepening. But his efforts did allow me the opportunity to feel his muscles against the skin of my back and thighs.
And the demonstration of strength was really quite lovely.
Twenty-Six
LEIGHTON HALL—APRIL 12, 1817
KIT
When I sether down in our chambers—ours—it was with great reluctance. Though she hadn’t really shown it, she had to be exhausted. I was.
But I wouldn’t find sleep tonight. Not after what I’d discovered in that study. And not after what I’d decided. I was Lord Leighton now. For better or worse, I was an earl with all that entailed—most of which I had no notion of.
Undressing Davina would never become a tiresome task, but I was becoming more skilled at it. I didn’t knot up her corset once.
By the time I settled her beneath the covers, she was halfway to sleep. Still, she grumbled quietly when I pulled away. The sound was enough to leave me hesitating.
“Stay,” she mumbled.
I crawled into the impossibly soft bed. I’d never slept in anything so luxurious and a part of me cringed to crawl into the fine linens in the same breeches that had spent the morning in a dusty wagon.
No sooner had I stopped moving than Davina pressed herself into my side. The way she fit against me when I settled my arm around her shoulder was exquisite perfection. Or it was right until the moment her icy feet tangled with mine. The yelp that escaped me was manly and impressive, in spite of her sleepy giggle that might have suggested the contrary.
“Did you rest them on a block of ice first?”
“’S just the way they are.”
“We should call a physician when we reach Scotland. Surely that cannot be healthful.”
“So many big words. Shh, it’s time for sleep.”
“Go to sleep, little menace,” I whispered against her forehead, then pulled away after a kiss.
Eventually she calmed, her breath evening out. Even her toes warmed to a temperature that could be described as tepid. When I was sure she wouldn’t wake, I slipped from her arms, regretting the choice instantly.
She curled a little tighter into herself, and I tucked the blankets around her. I grabbed the still-lit candle and padded back down the stairs and into the study. I braced myself for a long night, lit another candle, and pulled a quill and a few pieces of parchment from the unlocked drawer.
A clock somewhere in the hall chimed hourly. I stopped hearing it entirely sometime after three.
When I woke, it was to the strangest possible juxtaposition. My lower back ached in a way that suggested I may never be pain-free again. My neck, likewise, protested my position. I’d fallen asleep in front of my work on more than one occasion, so it was a familiar pain. New, however, was the scent of coffee. And equally new and more pleasant were delicate fingers combing my hair.
“Kit…” Davina whispered, fingers moving to my shoulders. “My feet are cold.”
“Told you,” I grumbled, finally rising and twisting my neck from side to side with a truly absurd amount of pain. The punishments that resulted from falling asleep at one’s desk never fit the crime. “We’re seeing a physician about it. It’s clearly a condition.”
Davina pressed deft fingers into the place where my neck and shoulders met. The groan that escaped me was truly obscene but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
“How did I know I would find you down here this morning?” she whispered into my ear. It probably wasn’t intended to be seductive, but there was a sensual note to her voice and the way her breath ghosted along my skin had me swallowing another groan.
One clever hand slid down the front of my chest. Her palm pressed along the divot between muscles. That hand was headed in a truly interesting direction before it veered off course and wrapped around my ribcage. The effect was a sort of hug from behind with the back of the chair between us. It was awkward and unsatisfying and had my heart swelling with affection all the same.
I turned my stiff neck and kissed the flush of her cheek. It was then that I noticed her frock. “You’re dressed,” I stated, definitely not in a tone that could be described as whining.
“Yes, that happens when you fall asleep at your desk. I had to have Mrs. Reed assist me.”
