Page 29

The blanket they lay under left little to the imagination and he felt himself stir, flashes of the previous night coming back to him as Meg shifted slightly, her bare skin warm on his. In the pale daylight coming through the gap in the curtains he could see far more than he had in the breathless hours of darkness, and he found himself caught between wanting to let her sleep and wishing she’d wake, perhaps turning to him with similarly scandalous things on her mind…

Thoughts like that weren’t helpful while he was trying not to disturb her and he tried instead to direct them elsewhere, starting with a long crack in the ceiling. It began at one end of the bedroom and ran almost to the other, and he stared up at it intently, willing the more rebellious parts of his anatomy to settle down again and allow him to think without interruption.

And I do need to think.

He felt as if he were being torn in half. Part of him was elated by what had transpired but the other larger and more sensible part put its head in its hands and groaned. His marital situation had just become infinitely more complicated, and he had no one to blame for his actions but himself, although of course Meg would have to shoulder her responsibility.

Had she intended last night to happen? Or did we both just get carried away?

As if sensing she occupied his mind, she snuggled closer, her hand sliding just below his collarbone. He was surrounded: by the warmth of her body and the scent of her hair, even each quiet breath something he listened to with as much appreciation as to any concerto. In sleep she gave him no clue as to what was going on inside her tousle-crowned head, and he found himself reluctant to take the leap that would let him know for sure.

He could just ask her. He could just shake her awake and boldly request she tell him what if anything their current entanglement meant, but the prospect left him cold.

If she looked him in the eye and told him the previous night had been a mistake, it would come as sharply as a slap in the face. It was perfectly possible to lie with someone without having any real feeling towards them, as the casual dalliances he’d had with other women over the past five years had shown, but to hear Meg say the same would be a different thing entirely. It was a question he didn’t think he could bring himself to put to her; her answer, once given, would have the power to knock down the tentative, probably unwise but still stubborn hope that, despite all his attempts to squash it, was beginning to rise.

What if it hadn’t been a mistake on her part? Could it be she’d seen the changes in him since his return and liked them, the gap left by whatever she used to think he’d lacked now filled by his newfound confidence and better understanding of the world? If that was the case, there would be little to stand between them—but she would have to be the one to raise the subject first.

He lay still, allowing the idea to unfold as he felt Meg’s chest rising and falling against him.

If her feelings for him were changing, she’d need to make the choice to tell him on her own. If he prompted her she might feel pressured, perhaps saying what she thought he wanted to hear rather than speaking honestly, and that would not do. It was the truth of what was in her heart that he wanted and she’d only share that if he gave her the chance to decide it herself. Any coercion from him would instead risk pushing her away, although there was one important conversation they needed to have that couldn’t be as easily escaped.

We still haven’t discussed what will happen after the christening. Will she stay here or come back to Derbyshire with me?

The answer had seemed obvious before she’d ended up in his makeshift bed—there had seemed no possibility whatsoever then that she’d leave her family to go with him—but now…

Could there be even the smallest chance…? It was something that needed more consideration, but any further contemplation was suddenly cut short by the fluttering of her lashes.

Meg’s eyelids flickered, and Jacob’s chest squeezed as she opened her eyes. For a moment they were bleary and unfocused, but then he caught the exact second her sleepy haze lifted and realisation dawned.

She froze. As she stared up at him the only parts of her that moved were those eyes, growing wider and wider until she managed to croak out two words.

‘Good morning.’

‘And the same to you.’

To his overwhelming disappointment, she immediately began to wriggle away, extracting herself from the cosy nook she’d occupied between his arm and his chest. One glimpse of her face showed it flamed poppy-red and she clutched one of the blankets to her as if her life depended on it as she shuffled backwards to lean against the wall.

‘I’m sorry. Have you been awake for long?’

He sat up himself, careful not to let the blanket she’d left him with drop down below his waist. ‘About half an hour. I didn’t want to get up and disturb you.’

‘Oh.’ If it was possible, her blush deepened another a few shades. ‘Well…thank you for your consideration. It must have been dull for you, just lying there.’

Privately Jacob very much disagreed, but it would be better not to say so out loud. She was clearly embarrassed and he didn’t want to make it worse, or perhaps even tip her over the edge into regret. He was eager to know whether that was indeed the direction of her thoughts, but he kept quiet as she tucked the blanket more securely around her, her gaze flitting around the darkened room to land anywhere other than on him.

There was a pause in which she restlessly gathered her loose hair over one shoulder. Evidently she had no more idea of what to say in such circumstances than he did, but to her credit she still tried.

‘How are your arms today? Do they still hurt?’

‘Oh.’ Cautiously Jacob flexed a bicep. In truth he hadn’t spared his sore muscles a thought since the moment she had knelt beside him on the floor, preoccupied with far more important things than mere aches and pains. ‘A little, I suppose.’

‘Just a little? In that case, they can’t have been too bad to begin with.’ Meg frowned, although to his relief he saw a subtle tilt to her lips. ‘I suppose I’m glad you’re not at death’s door.’

‘Not quite yet, at least.’

She looked down at her hands, clasped together among the folds of the blanket bunched on her lap. She didn’t seem quite so uneasy now the first rush of waking confusion had passed, and unless he was mistaken that trace of a smile hadn’t yet faded from her downturned face.

Leaving her alone would probably be the wisest thing, he thought as he prepared to try to stand up with his dignity intact. It would give her time to come to terms with what had happened; but, when it came down to it, he couldn’t quite manage to stop himself from taking a chance.