Page 26 of Mail-Order Viscountess

He needed to address the sleeping arrangements. Ignoring the problem wouldn’t make it disappear, no matter how much he preferred to pretend they could both hover near the fire all night without collapsing from exhaustion.

He shrugged out of his coat and fought to keep from huddling against the icy breeze as he spread the garment on the flattest section of stone near the fire. The wool still held dampness from the snow, but also a bit of warmth from his body. It wasn’t much, but better than bare rock.

“Here.” He gestured at the makeshift bed. “You should try to sleep. I’ll keep the fire going.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed. “And where will you sleep?”

“I’ll manage.” He moved to the cave wall and sank down, fighting hard against a grimace. Once he settled, he pulled his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. The stone pressed cold and hard against his back. “Done it plenty of times out with the herds. A man learns to sleep anywhere.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She didn’t move toward the coat. “You’ll freeze.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll be dead by morning, and then I’ll have to explain to your brothers how I let their youngest sibling turn into an icicle out of some misplaced sense of chivalry.”

Despite everything, a laugh escaped him. “Misplaced chivalry? I think you mean common decency.”

“I’m calling it foolishness.” She pushed to her feet and swayed slightly—exhaustion or cold pulling at her. “I’m not taking the only warm spot while you sit there and freeze. That’s not how this works.”

“Then how does it work?” He kept his voice light, but something in his chest had gone tight. “Because from where I’m sitting, our options are limited.”

The silence stretched between them, filled only by the crackle and hiss of the fire. Kate stood with her arms crossed, chin lifted in that stubborn way he was beginning to recognize. The firelight caught the gold in her hair, the determined set of her jaw.

She was going to fight him on this. Of course she was. Kate McKinney would rather freeze than accept help she hadn’t asked for.

“We share it.” Her words came out flat, matter-of-fact. “The space. It’s the only practical solution.”

Thomas blinked. Of all the arguments he’d expected, that wasn’t one of them.

“You’re sure?” He kept his voice even. “I don’t want you to feel⁠—”

“I feel cold.” She cut him off, already moving toward the coat. “And tired. And if we’re going to survive this night, we need to be practical. Body heat is the most efficient way to stay warm. It’s simple fact.”

Simple fact. Right. Because that’s all this was—a matter of practicality and survival. Nothing complicated about sharing warmth with a woman who was making his pulse jump.

He rose from the wall and helped her arrange the space.

The arrangement felt awkward—the kind of necessary intimacy that came with survival—but still made his heartbeat kick harder than the cold warranted.

Kate settled onto his coat first, her movements careful as she positioned herself on her side facing the fire. Her spine stayed rigid, every line of her body radiating awareness of the space he would occupy behind her.

He lowered himself onto the makeshift bed, his ribs screaming protest at the movement. The coat beneath them did little to cushion the stone, but it blocked some of the cold seeping from the ground. He lay on his back, leaving a careful few inches between them.

The gap felt both too much and not enough.

He pulled her cloak over them both, the fabric settling over her and reaching to cover part of his chest. The wool still carried dampness but also held the heat from the fire. Better than nothing.

Her breathing had gone shallow. He could hear it even over the fire’s crackle. Her shoulders stayed tense, drawn up almost to her ears.

“You can relax.” He kept his voice low. “Tension makes you colder.”

“I’m perfectly relaxed.”

The lie was so obvious he almost laughed. Almost. But the situation felt too precarious for humor, balanced as they were between necessity and something he didn’t want to examine.

“Kate.” He waited until she turned her head slightly, enough that he could see the line of her jaw in the firelight. “I’m not going to…I won’t do anything you don’t want.” The words caught in his throat. What was he even trying to say? That he was honorable? That she could trust him?

The silence stretched long enough that it seemed maybe she wouldn’t respond at all. Then her shoulders lowered, not much, but enough to see the shift.