“Georgie.”The sound of her old pet name in his deep voice caused heat to pool deep inside her.She cupped his cheek and rubbed a thumb across his lips to silence him.
“Hush.Go back to sleep.You need to rest.I want my tutor back.”His face took on an odd look when she said “tutor.”It seemed to her that he had forgotten the nature of their relationship.“While you’ve been ill I’ve been making free with your library.I read the entire list of works you suggested to understand the lives of women in ancient Greece.Shall I tell you what I found?”
His face looked pained, but he nodded.He didn’t let go of her hand.
“Notmuch.”She laughed.“I did learn a little.”She began to talk about the lives of women then and now.The words meant nothing.She intended only to quiet and soothe him.He listened only briefly before his eyes drifted shut and she felt his grip on her hand loosen.
Drowsy and ill at ease, she rose, but the sound of his rhythmic breathing held her fast.It sounded endearingly different from the sound he made when feverish and ill.In the gloom she could make out the line of his arm, elbow bent so that his hand pillowed his head.She followed the line of it up to his strong shoulder and continued up his neck to the sight of black lashes against his cheek.Since his color had improved the now familiar scar looked less stark.Her eyes drifted down to watch the rise and fall of his chest.She could see the covers bunched down around his waist.His shirt opened at the neck.
Propriety demanded that she cover him, that she go, that she shouldn’t even be there.Even Mrs.Potter fretted, and the normally impassive Eunice looked ready to faint when she arrived only to be sent home.The damage was done.
She told only a partial truth earlier when she insisted she wished to be in his house.The place she longed to be above all others was in his bed.She wanted to feel his warmth; she needed his closeness, if only for tonight.She couldn’t bear to be alone.Need overwhelmed reason.
She removed her robe and slipped onto the narrow edge of the bed.She slid beneath the coverlet, taking care to stay well away from the sleeping man.He would sleep deeply now.She knew that from experience the past several nights.He was unlikely to be disturbed.She would slip away unnoticed before he woke.
* * *
Very little lightpenetrated Andrew Mallet’s windowless sleeping chamber.The occupants of his narrow bed slept long past sunrise, late into the morning.
Georgiana opened one blue eye and then the other.The bed felt heavenly, more comfortable than the pallet.In fact, she felt warmer and more content than she had felt any morning of the past eleven years.She breathed deeply, stretched to greet the morning, and froze in panic.A man’s strong arm surrounded her, and memory flooded back.Andrew had rolled onto his good side.The warmth she felt was his body, wrapped along her entire length.The realization rocked her to her core.
She blinked to clear her head.She couldn’t remember what madness led her to crawl into his bed.Among the dozens of reasons it was wrong, the worst was that she invaded his bed without his permission.A sleeping man couldn’t refuse her.
In the night she had assured herself that he was too sick to disturb.She believed she would be safe.She was certain that an aging spinster dressed in her old night rail and dressing gown, with her hair tumbled everywhere, would arouse no passion in a man, particularly one so recently ill.
In the cold light of morning, she suspected she had been wrong.The body curled around her own was fully male and fully aroused, though her inexperience made her less than certain.Can they do that when they are sound asleep?Apparently they could.Georgiana allowed herself a small smile.She had learned something very interesting already this morning.
She had planned to slip quietly out before he woke.She miscalculated about that also.When she attempted to gingerly remove his arm, she found it heavy with sleep.She raised the arm just enough to move her body forward.The second she escaped his protective embrace she fell with a thump onto the floor, and the bed shook forcefully.
For a fleeting moment, she anticipated scooting out the open door while he slept.His voice showed her how futile that was.
“Georgie?Georgie, what happened?I heard a sound.”His voice, hoarse with sleep, repeated, “Georgie?”
She briefly considered crawling out the door, but she was too late.Black eyes looked down at her over the edge of the bed.
She rose up on one elbow with a sigh of resignation and pushed herself up until she rested her chin on the side of the bed.No words came to her.
Andrew propped himself on both his elbows.“What are you doing on my floor?”he asked reasonably.
Georgiana continued to stare at him, devouring the sight of sleep tousled hair, morning beard dark on his face, and his muscled chest crossed with now familiar scars visible through his gaping nightshirt.She couldn’t help herself.His eyes, sleepy and unfocused without his spectacles, looked puzzled.He was adorable.
“What happened to your robe?”
She almost choked on her gasp, ducked below the bed, and groped about for the robe.She found it and stuffed one arm in a sleeve.She was convinced the morning couldn’t get any worse.
“I see everyone is awake at last.Thought I heard a bump.Coffee is ready.”She grasped the side of her robe to her chest and looked up, mortified, into the laughing eyes of Charles Harley.It just got worse.
