Page 53 of His Perfect Bride
Blessed darkness descended over the room, hiding her, hiding him, hiding all the emotions he didn’t want her to see. The truth was, no matter how much he might be telling himself that he wasn’t interested in Sage and couldn’t be with a woman anytime soon, he wasn’t listening to the messages. His interest in her continued to manifest itself every time he looked at her.
He hovered beside the bed, both angst and anticipation swirling low inside him. What should he do now? She’d said she trusted him. The question was, did he trust himself to lie down on the bed beside her and sleep the whole night through without touching or reaching for her even just a little?
With as attracted as he was to her, he wasn’t sure he could do it.
But he had to. He needed to prove to her and to himself that he was a man of honor, that he respected and valued her enough not to use her in any way at all.
“You may as well lie down,” she whispered, her voice strained. “You can’t stand there all night.”
“Perhaps I can.”
She huffed out a small laugh. “I won’t let you. If anyone should be giving up the bed for the night, it should be me. I’m only the hired help.”
At her self-deprecation, irritation rose swiftly inside. “Don’t say that.” His whisper came out harsh. “I thought we already established that you are more than a servant.”
“Let’s be honest, Jackson.” She spoke in her no-nonsense way. “I’m of the laboring class and you’re practically nobility. Pretending otherwise won’t change the way of things.”
The social hierarchies had been transplanted from England to the colonies, and he’d lived a distinguished and privileged life during his years in North America the same way he had in England.
He’d never once even thought about the class distinctions, and he certainly hadn’t challenged them the way Augusta had. Why hadn’t he?
Maybe it was past time to do so. His mind raced in a dozen different directions at the implications of living more simply and fairly and without the airs of his class.
The bed squeaked again. Was Sage getting up in order to give him the bed? He’d never allow it. “No!” The one word came out a whisper-roar as his inner beast reared up in protest.
The shifting halted.
“You must not vacate the bed for me. If you do, I shall toss you right back.”
“Toss me?” Her whisper held the note of sassiness he liked. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Would you like to test me?”
“Maybe I will.”
He waited, his muscles tense.
She didn’t move.
Without giving either of them a chance to do anything that would be unseemly, he lowered himself to the edge of the bed, perching on the mattress as far from her as he could without sliding off. “Retire to your previous spot. I shall sleep on top of the covers.”
She scooted away from him until a thumping told him she’d probably flattened herself against the wall, clearly trying to make as much room for him—or between them—as possible.
He waited, counting to fifteen before inching back until his whole body was on top of the bed, only a hair’s breadth from hers. Even though he tried not to brush against her, his leg grazed hers, and he shifted so that he was partially off the bed.
An inner growl of frustration pushed for release, but he swallowed it. He’d believed the bed was big enough for two small children. He’d been wrong. It was only big enough for one tiny infant.
He held himself rigidly. If he relaxed and spread out, he would end up touching her, and he didn’t want that. Yet, how could he go the whole night without relaxing and inadvertently brushing against her?
Perhaps if he forced himself to stay awake? The trouble was, he hadn’t slept well the previous night on Salt Spring Island in the barn because he’d been preoccupied with Sage and the kiss. Now after the long day of traveling, sleeplessness and exhaustion were catching up to him.
He shifted, trying to get somewhat comfortable, which was difficult to do with half of his body about to fall off the bed. As he leaned his head back into a pillow, his arm skimmed against hers.
Her breathing turned shallow and quick, and tension seemed to radiate from her.
This wasn’t going well. His presence on the bed was agitating her.
He started to push back up. “This isn’t working?—”
