“You believe me that someone was in the room, then?”
Thomas nodded but realized that she couldn’t see his face. “Yes, of course I believe you.”
“Who has a key to my room?”
“I shouldn’t think anyone besides you and the housekeeper,” he said. “But I don’t know. In a house as old as this one, it is possible that there are more keys. We can have the lock replaced.”
“I should sleep easier with a new lock.”
“Would it be terribly inconvenient if I put my arm around your shoulders?”
He felt her smiling against him before she said, “Not at all. It would certainly be warmer.”
Thomas gently put his arm underneath her head, and she nuzzled her head into his chest—he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need to. Didn’t want to. She placed one arm on his chest and his heart beat so quickly that he thought that he was having a heart attack. He rested his hand on her hair. At last, indulging in his desire to touch it. Cordelia’s hair was softer than he’d ever imagined. Unconsciously he began to stroke it, feeling the silk strands through his fingers.
“I am glad I’m not alone,” she whispered against his chest.
“You never have to be alone again,” he promised, and stroked her hair until her breathing became steady and she fell asleep holding him. Thomas thought that it was impossible for him to fall asleep in Cordelia’s arms, in her bed, touching her hair. But eventually his eyelids grew heavy, and sleep took him.
26
Cordelia awoke feeling warmer than she’d felt since coming to this cold country. Her eyes flickered open and she realized it was because Thomas’s arms were around her. His body, larger than her own, seemed to radiate heat. His frame wasn’t bulky but leanly muscular. His face was less serious in sleep. There was a calmness in his features that she’d never seen during the day or night. His hair, which was always slicked back in proper order, was in repose, wild and untamed. He looked so much younger, so much less an earl and more a man that could have been her friend like Stuyvesant.
Stuyvesant. Even thinking about him still hurt. His indifference cut her to the very core. The memory of his kisses was no longer sweet but tainted with his betrayal. Cordelia glanced at Thomas’s lips that were so close to her own. He was no longer a stranger. The unknown English lord who would take her away from everything she knew and loved. He was her partner and her only friend in this horrible old house.
As if sensing her scrutiny, his body shifted and his arm that was around her shoulders fell to her waist. Cordelia felt curiously warmer. Something in her stomach tightened, not unpleasantly—quite the reverse. She longed to be closer to him.
Cordelia’s door opened and Miss Vaughn came in with the breakfast tray. Cordelia sat up self-consciously, Thomas’s hand still resting on her waist. Miss Vaughn set it on the table before noticing Thomas’s presence. The good woman’s wrinkled face went beet red. “Forgive me, my lady, I should have knocked. I-I-I will come back later to help you dress.”
Miss Vaughn then bowed her way out of the room, closing the door behind her. Cordelia glanced down at Thomas. His eyes were scrunched closed, as if he was trying to block out the morning light. She brushed his brown hair from his eyes and his face relaxed, but his eyes still didn’t open. On impulse, she leaned down and brushed a kiss against his forehead. Thomas’s eye opened wide.
“It worked,” she said with a laugh. “At least one fairytale is true. You can awake someone with a kiss.”
“Are you saying I look like a sleeping princess?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of a sleeping prince.”
“Not a knight in shining armor?”
“There’s plenty of armor hanging in the great hall, if you’d like to try it on,” she offered. “And swords and axes, should you like to run someone through after you dance with them.”
“It’d be more likely that I would wish to run someone through who danced with you.”
“I never thought you’d be a jealous husband.”
“Nor did I,” he admitted, and the look he gave her caused the tightening in her stomach to intensify.
If Cordelia stayed still, he would kiss her. And she certainly no longer hated him, but she wasn’t sure if she cared for him either. Her heart still felt bruised by Stuyvesant.
She flung off her covers and opened the breakfast tray, expecting the usual meager offering only to find the tray laden with biscuits, muffins, bacon, sausages, and eggs. What caused this change? Did the servants know that he was in her room?
No, Miss Vaughn had not been expecting him.
Cordelia picked up the tray and set it on the bed between them. “There’s enough for two.”
Thomas sat up. If he was disappointed, his face didn’t show it. He picked up a piece of bacon with his fingers and took a bite. Cordelia relaxed and picked up her fork and speared a piece of egg, bringing it to her mouth. For the first time, her food wasn’t cold—wasn’t inedible. Thomas snagged his second piece of bacon.
Cordelia pointed her fork at him. “Don’t steal all of the bacon.”
