for his
trouble. “I am going to sleep,” he rolled her over onto her side, her back to
his chest, and threw her into a bear hug. “I am exhausted, you are cold, and I
grow weary of this foolishness. You’ve slept against me for eight days,
Elizabeau Treveighan, so your protests at this stage are empty and foolish.
This is the same as it was on horseback when you were cold and I used my body
heat to warm you. Now, shut your mouth and go to sleep.”
She tried to move but he
had her too tightly. “That was different,” she grunted. “I had no choice. But
we are no longer traveling and this is improper to say the least.”
“If my mother and family
are to think we are married, then it is more than proper.”
“What would de Lohr
say?”
“He would congratulate
me for my ingenuity. Now, are you going to argue with me all night?”
Truth was, she wanted
to. She should have. But his body radiated more heat than a roaring fire and
already she could feel it seeping through the coverlet, warming her chilly
flesh. She should demand he remove himself immediately, but the warmer she
became, the more her protests died on her lips.
“Is that what I can
expect every night while we stay here?”
“That would be a fair
assessment.”
She sighed sharply,
hating herself for giving into the warmth of his body but enjoying it just the
same. But it was more than that; she was enjoying the sheer comfort of his
closeness.
“Then let me make
something perfectly clear, Rhys du Bois,” she sounded very much as if she was
threatening him. “If you so much as touch me or handle me in a way that I deem
even remotely suggestive or improper, I swear to you that you will walk from
this place missing an eye, and I’ll tell de Lohr every horrible detail and hope
he punishes you greatly for it. Is that clear?”
Rhys shifted so her
stiff elbow wasn’t jabbing him in the gut and somehow in the process pulled her
tighter. “Perfectly, my lady.”
“Good.” Satisfied he
wouldn’t try something improper, she allowed herself to relax within his
enormous embrace. “Now, I am a light sleeper, so do not move around too much.
It will keep me awake all night.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“And do not snore.”
“Aye, my lady.”
“Rhys?”
“My lady?”
“Good night.”
He was staring into the
back of her golden red head, smelling the soft scent of lilac and struggling to
ignore it. “Good night, Lady Elizabeau.”
It was the best night’s
sleep either one of them had ever had.
CHAPTER SIX
It was an oddly sunny
morning for November, Elizabeau thought as she strolled through the courtyard
of Whitebrook. The sun had been up for some time, evidenced by its position in
the sky, and the landscape was lush from the recent heavy rains. All in all,
it was a beautiful day and a beautiful land, much different from the filth of
London that she had known most of her life.
She had awoken alone in
the small bed that she and Rhys had occupied. A fire burned brightly in the hearth
and a platter of cold bread and cheese sat on the table near the bed. Someone
had put it there for her and she suspected it was Rhys, but he was no where to
be found so she had eaten all of the food and dressed in the pale green
broadcloth that was magnificent with her coloring. The leather girdled had
cinched up the surcoat, emphasizing her long torso and slender waist, and she
had used a few of the pins to secure her considerable mane at the nape of her
neck. Some of the red lip ointment from the tiny alabaster pot went onto her
full lips and she dared to use some of the perfumed oil that Rhys had bought
her. One smelled like lilac, the other smelled of tuberose. She chose the
lilac.
During the entire time
when she had eaten and dressed, no one had come to her door. She had been
quite alone. Dressed and fed, she decided to go and find Rhys. She was coming
to feel a little lost without him around, his massive
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