Page 74 of Tempting the Highland Spy
Chapter Twenty
Lying on her back on what seemed a mere sliver of the bed she shared with Mrs. Carmichael, Grace stared at the ceiling. Amazing, really, how her reality had shifted within the span of hours. She’d shared a delicious rendezvous with Harrison and had played the belle of the ball in a confection of a gown and delicate kidskin shoes.
But now, that was over and done. The bliss she’d experienced at the ball had swiftly evaporated into the reality of a snoring woman who’d had a wee bit too much to drink and hogged far more of the bedcovers than she was entitled to.
The clock in the chamber ticked away the minutes. It was nearly two o’clock.
Tossing and turning, Mrs. Carmichael flailed out with one arm. Grace scooted away in the nick of time. The back of the woman’s hand slapped against her shoulder. If she hadn’t moved when she did, she might well have ended up with a bloodied nose.
Heaving a sigh no one else heard, Grace pounded the pillow. At this rate, she would not sleep at all. She lay there for what must have been several minutes, staring at the shadows on the wall. Suddenly, it dawned on her.
The room had gone silent.
The snoring had stopped.
Could this be true? Had the incessant noise stopped for the night?
Rolling onto her back, Grace listened to the sound of rhythmic, soft breaths. Mrs. Carmichael had settled down. Now, finally, she could sleep.
She tugged the blanket over her and closed her eyes. A warm slumber eased over her.
“Harumph!”
The strangled sound wrested Grace from a dream. She closed her eyes again, wishing it away. Perhaps she’d dreamed that sound. It certainly sounded like something out of a nightmare.
A noise that seemed a cross between a grunt and a groan escaped Mrs. Carmichael. She sighed in her sleep, then stretched. Her long limbs splayed over to Grace’s side of the bed.
A chill rippled through her leg as a cold foot pressed against one calf, and she jerked away. Good heavens, were Mrs. Carmichael’s feet always like a block of ice?
Scooting to the edge of the bed, she clung to the side of the mattress lest she fall over the side. Squeezing her eyes closed, she thought of the warm bed in the room just beyond the connecting door.
A bed with a most desirable man under the blankets.
By thunder, she would be useless the next day if she did not get some sleep. She’d been invited to tea by Lady Sybil and Lady Edythe. It wouldn’t do for her to arrive with dark circles and puffy eyes.
Grabbing her pillow, she tiptoed to the door and opened it.
Harrison lay on his back, hands tucked behind his head as he tended to do. As she closed the door, he sat up. So, he hadn’t slept any more soundly than she had.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered.
“What isn’t?” she said, making no attempt to sound cheerful. “I haven’t slept a wink.”
“I’m not surprised,” he said. “I’d begun to wonder if you’d taken it upon yourself to saw a log into firewood.”
“You heard her?”
“Yes,” he said with a small chuckle under his breath. “Assuming, of course, thatwasMrs. Carmichael.”
She gave a little huff as her fingers dug into the pillow. “I assure you, it was.”
He lit the lamp by his bed and looked at her. “What? No blanket?” His focus shifted to the pillow. “Or did you bring that to form your wall of Jericho?”
The glow of the lamplight illuminated the contours of his bare chest and shoulders with a subtle glow. Every sinew seemed defined. And infinitely touchable.
She batted away the thought. She couldn’t afford to even contemplate such thoughts.
Instead, she shook her head. “No blanket…and nowall. Not tonight.”
