“Of course, Lord Douglas! Danby will be glad to escort you to your tent.”
Skylar said her goodnights, thanking Sarah. She paused by Sloan. He smiled and very elegantly and properly kissed the back of her hand.
Danby, talking away, brought them to their tent.
It was fairly large, with a decent enough camp bed. It was closely surrounded by many other tents. Hawk sighed softly, removing the white shirt he had donned since she had seen him before the party, tossing it over the back of a folding camp chair.
He sighed. “I guess we’d better get some sleep,” he said.
Skylar nodded, stripping down to her chemise. She climbed into the small cot. He doused the lamp on the crude table in the center of the tent, getting in beside her. He scooped an arm around her, holding her close.
“Comfortable?” he asked her.
“Yes.”
He was silent a minute. “You know, you’ve actually done quite well in a house, a tipi, and a tent.”
“I’m so glad you think I can handle ‘hardship’ competently.”
He laughed softly. “I’m very…”
“Yes?”
“Proud of you,” he said.
She smiled. “Thank you.”
His arm tightened around her.
“We’ve no…”
“Privacy?” he finished for her. He must have felt both her comfort—and her discomfort.
“No privacy.”
“We need some sleep anyway,” he said politely. His hand moved very gently through her hair. “Good night…wife.”
She smiled and closed her eyes.
He didn’t close his. Somewhere in the night, very late in the night, he noted a shadow.
The fire just outside the tent had burned low. Perhaps he imagined the shadow.
No. No matter how low the light might be, the canvas of the military tent was light and thin, reflecting any form of shadow.
And someone was moving just beyond their tent. Lifting the flap.
He leaped up in a silent flash, prepared this time, ready to follow…
“Hawk?”
She whispered his name, frightened, only half awake, clinging to him.
The shadow was gone.
“Hawk, what is it?”
“Nothing. Nothing, Skylar. I’m so sorry I woke you. Just a—a dream,” he said. He smoothed her hair.
