“Aw, Sarah darlin’, you missed me,” Douglas said.
She sat up.
“Are you foxed?” she asked.
“Only the faintest bit. The world seems an extraordinarily friendly place with a few drams of Scots whiskey.”
“Is that what you were doing? Drinking?”
“I was mending fences,” he said, smiling faintly. “Your cousin twice or three times removed and a few other men. They wanted to know all about Lady Sarah.”
“They did? What did you tell them?”
He came closer to the edge of the bed.
“Behold, the presence of a great lady, a most magnificent woman. I also told them that you were as strong-willed as Donald, as charming as a brownie, and as beautiful as a fairy princess.”
“You did?” Warmth coursed through her.
“I didn’t tell them you were still a virgin bride, or that it was my great fear you might be as cold as a Highland morning.”
She stared at him, wishing she’d extinguished the light. If they had been in darkness, she wouldn’t have been able to see his boyish grin or that suddenly intent look in his eyes.
What did he expect her to say? That she didn’t know, wholly, what he meant? That she had an inkling, but she was too inexperienced to know for certain?
“Thank you for honoring me,” she said. What a weak and ineffectual response.
But it seemed that he didn’t think so, because his grin disappeared as he reached out and cupped her face with one very large, very warm, hand.
“Sarah darlin’, I honor you from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head,” he said, sounding like a Scot for the first time since she’d met him.
“Oh.”
He dropped his hand and turned, before she could say anything further. He continued talking as he walked into the bathing chamber.
“I’ll take a bath,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I smell of smoke and whiskey, I’m afraid.”
He sang well, she realized a few minutes later, and evidently he thought it necessary to continue singing as he bathed. The taps gurgled in accompaniment, and she found herself smiling.
She reached over and extinguished the lamp, just in case he decided to come out of the bath naked. Did he have any toweling? Wasn’t there a cabinet in there? If she were a good wife, she’d take him a towel.
Instead, she pulled the sheet up past her nose and closed her eyes. She should feign sleep. Resolutely, she turned to her side, away from the empty side of the bed.
She knew the minute he left the bathing chamber. Rapid footsteps heralded his approach, and the mattress suddenly sank as he bounced onto it.
“God’s knees,” he said, burrowing under the covers. “That Scottish water was damnably cold!”
“Scottish water is no colder than English water,” she said, smiling into her pillow. “You’re the silly one who wanted to bathe tonight. Did you not use the hot-water tap?”
“I thought a cold bath might suit me best,” he said, nuzzling against her, his cheek pressed against her back. Even through the nightgown, she could feel how cold he was.
She turned and held out her arms below the covers.
“You are a foolish man, Douglas Eston,” she said, pulling him into her embrace.
“You have no idea, Sarah darlin’,” he said softly.
“And you’re cold as ice.”
