The first thing April perceived upon waking was the scent. Familiar. Clean linen, cedar, and something distinctly him. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the blue-tinged light of a room she did not recognize.
This was not her chamber.
The mattress beneath her was firmer, the bedding crisp. She sat up, the bodice of her dress slightly wrinkled against her ribs. Her dress. She hadn’t changed. The memories settled into place slowly. She had been waiting for Theo, and sleep had claimed her before he returned.
Her gaze shifted around the room until it caught on the figure across from her. Theo.
He was reclining on a settee near the hearth, one arm folded across his chest, the other resting loosely at his side. His headtilted slightly as he slept, the morning light catching the stubble along his jaw.
April rose carefully and tiptoed toward him, her bare feet silent against the floor. She lowered herself beside the settee, knees pressing into the carpet. For a moment, she simply watched him.
You brought me here. You carried me.
It was foolish, the swell of emotion that rose in her chest. Foolish, but impossible to ignore. Something about seeing him like this—unguarded, asleep, a faint crease between his brows—undid her. Her fingers curled against her skirts.
Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible, trying to make this into a real marriage.
She bit her lip.
I like his company. I cannot deny that. And he is—well, yes, he is handsome. And funny, in his way. And when I am with him…she exhaled slowly,I feel something suspiciously close to happiness.
The realization stilled her.
Oh no. I’m falling in love with him.
A sound escaped him, a shift in his breath, followed by a low murmur. “Why are you staring at me?”
She startled. “What makes you think I am?”
“I always know when someone is looking at me. It’s a gift.”
His lips curved. He didn’t even open his eyes.
She narrowed hers. “Your eyes are closed.”
“And yet, I am certain.”
“Then perhaps you should use that gift to tell me what I’m thinking.”
“You’re admiring me,” he said, still not opening his eyes. “Possibly debating whether to kiss me. Possibly trying to find a flaw and failing.”
She made a soft sound—something between a scoff and a laugh. “Flawless, are you?”
“Painfully so.”
She shook her head. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet here you are.”
He still didn’t move. Still didn’t look. But the edge of his mouth tugged upward again, just slightly.
Emboldened by the veil of morning and the privacy of this moment, she reached out. Her fingers hovered, hesitated for one last breath—and then slid gently into his hair.
It was just as she’d imagined. Silky. Thick. Warm from the sun and sleep.
His eyes opened.
They met hers directly, and the breath she’d been holding dissolved into stillness. That gaze—so deep, so impossibly blue—captured her completely.
