Page 46 of The Trouble with Tigers
No, not thunder. Banging. On her bedchamber door.
Her bedchamber? But she was in the study.
“Kitty, be still.”
Her eyes flew open at the harsh masculine whisper. A figure moved in the doorway.
She jerked upright in her bed and searched in the darkness for some route of escape. The window.
She flung the sheets aside, but her legs and nightdress were hopelessly entangled in the bedcovers. She wrestled and kicked against the restraining fabric, and succeeded only in cocooning herself further.
“Be still, I say.” The figure started toward her.
With no option remaining, she dove from the bed, hurdling toward the floor.
Strong arms caught her, dragging her upwards to place her unceremoniously amidst the heap of sheets on the mattress.
“Good God, woman, wake up before you hurt yourself.”
Zeke’s voice.
Her mattress dipped with his weight as he sat on the edge of her bed. His hands gripped her upper arms, and warmth from his palms seeped through the sleeves of her night shift.
“Kitty, it’s all right. You’re safe,” Zeke said in a low, soothing voice.
The nightmare’s tentacles receded, leaving her weak with relief. She nodded her understanding and drew a shuddering breath.
Zeke’s familiar scent—soap, spice, clean male skin—invaded her senses. In her unlit chamber, she could just make out the bold lines of his face. Moonlight glinted off his tousled hair.
Zeke had come and chased her nightmare away, chased Garrick away, just like he had this morning.
“Zeke,” she choked, flinging herself into his chest. Her arms locked around his neck and the tip of her nose nestled into the warm curve of his shoulder. She closed her eyes and greedily breathed him in.
His arms went around her, almost tentatively, as if he didn’t know where to place his hands.
She snuggled closer, trying to still the random tremors coursing through her.
After a moment, one of his big hands moved, smoothing her hair from the crown of her head to somewhere near her waist. Over and over again he touched her, all the while uttering soothing, nonsensical sounds.
She’d never imagined he could be so gentle.
After a while her breathing steadied, but her stubborn pulse refused to return to normal. Reality leaked in to her consciousness. Zeke was in her bedchamber. She was clinging to him for dear life. And she was fairly certain he wasn’t wearing clothes.
With her arms yet around his neck, she allowed her gaze to drift down over the hard plane of his naked chest, then lower. She gulped. He appeared to be wearing trousers.
Reluctantly she unlocked her hands from around his neck and drew back.
He did not restrain her. Neither did he release her, and her skin hummed where his palms grazed her low back. The fact only her thin nightshift separated her flesh from his touch consumed her thoughts.
“I suppose I woke you?” she asked, mostly just to break the silence.
“I heard you screaming, and I thought…I feared James was attempting to abduct you. It’s a wonder you didn’t raise the entire household.” He softened his gruff words reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.
She shivered and barely resisted pressing her cheek into his palm.
“I’m sorry I disturbed your sleep. I suppose the storm stirred memories. I…” She swallowed. Clamped her lips together. What was she thinking, revealing so much? “It was only a dream.”
Zeke cupped her cheeks between warm, slightly calloused palms. “What memories? Or should I ask of whom? Is Garrick the monster in your nightmares?”
