“No, I finished that one already. I’m readingThe Hound of the Baskervillesagain.”
“Really?” He crawled into his side of the bed but leaned a little closer to look at her book. “I’ve been thinking of reading that one again. Are you very far?”
“No. I just started. Want to take turns reading it to each other?” she asked.
“Yes.”
And just like that, all the awkwardness was gone. This was familiar and comfortable because, almost from the beginning of their friendship, they’d spent evenings in the parlor reading to each other. Usually Sherlock Holmes stories.
Nick relaxed against the pillows as she began to read. When she finished the first chapter, she handed the book to him to read the next one as they always did. He began but found himself yawning. Beside him, Frances’s breathing had slowed. Not sure if she were asleep, he continued reading but had to stifle back yawns more often.
“Frances?” he finally whispered. “Frances, are you awake?”
When she said nothing, he closed the book and set it on his nightstand. He reached up and turned down the gaslight lamp above the bed. Carefully, he rolled over to his side, so he faced her sleeping form.
“I love you,” he breathed before closing his eyes.
10
Something tickled Nick’s nose, pulling him from a wonderful dream of kissing Frances. Whatever it was made his nose itch again. He was about to lift his hand to scratch it when the warmth of the body next to him brought him fully awake. His heart started to pound furiously, and it became difficult to breathe. Frances—hiswife—rested her head on his shoulder and strands of her hair had worked loose from her long braid.
What if she woke? What if she accused him of not keeping his hands to himself?
No, he was onhisside of the bed.Shewas the one with her arm across his chest, her hand dangling over his side. Nick had been praying for months that Frances would come to love him. Sometimes the Good Lord had a terrible sense of humor. Waking with Frances in his arms might seem like an answer to those prayers, but it could turn into a nightmare if she woke and found herself tangled with him like this.
It could ruin everything.
Nick was about to shift his body toward the edge of the bed, when Frances’s hand on his side gave a twitch. His pulse ratcheted up another notch. What was he going to do? Maybe if he pretended to still be asleep, she could extricate herself and not hold him accountable. He closed his eyes and forced his body to relax and his breathing to slow. But he couldn’t slow his racing heart.
* * *
It wasthe hard thumping of Nick’s heart that woke Frances. The pulsing in her ear told her exactly what had happened. She’dcuddled.
When she and her sisters had been young, Doris had been afraid of the dark. Their nanny’s solution had been to have the three girls sleep in the same bed. It had lasted until Maude complained that Frances was a cuddler. As though she’d had any control of what she did when she slept.
Poor Nick. Frances probably should have warned him, but it had been so many years since she’d shared a bed with her sisters she’d forgotten. She could tell he wasn’t asleep anymore, though he was trying really hard to breathe slowly. It was a good thing they were really married or this would be a very compromising situation. Her sense of the bizarre struck her, and she wanted to giggle.
Frances moved her hand, thinking to pretend she was still asleep and rolling over. Her hand brushed his side, and his skin twitched under her fingers. Was he ticklish? If he were, it had been wise of him to keep it a secret from her. She moved her fingers along his side again, this time with more purpose, and a laugh came from his chest under her ear.
“Youareticklish.” Frances shifted to lean on her right elbow to look down at him. She reached to tickle him again, but he caught her hand.
“Don’t you dare, woman.”
They were both laughing as they wrestled. Frances had the advantage because he was ticklish, and she wasn’t. And he had all that lovely bare skin he had to keep out of her reach. They were laughing so hard they didn’t hear that someone had knocked on the door until Luke rapped on it really loud.
“Sorry to disturb you two,” he called, “but something came in the mail I think you’ll want to see. I’ve sent for Maude and Doris.” He didn’t say anything more. They only heard his retreating footsteps.
Frances looked up at Nick, who’d finally managed to pin her hands over her head. “If he’s calling for my sisters, it must have something to do with Uncle William.”
“Right.” Nick released her and leaned back on his heels.
“I get the bathroom first.” Frances made what she’d hoped was a clever roll off the bed. Instead, her fancy negligee tangled her legs, and she slid off the bed into a heap on the floor.
Chuckling, Nick leaped from the bed and bounded into the bathroom before she could get herself free and on her feet again. Grinning at her, he shut the bathroom door.
“It’s not fair.” She called through the door as she scowled at the beautiful nightgown. “I want some of those pajama pants too.”
What kind of shirt would be comfortable to wear with it? Maybe something flannel during the winter. That would be warmer, though Nick had made a nice heater last night. And what a gentleman. She had no doubt Edgar would have taken advantage of the situation if it’d been him sleeping beside her.
