Page 57 of The Defiant One
"Company."
"I thought you wanted to be left alone. You made that perfectly clear, earlier."
He stepped into the room, clad in nothing but a long white shirt which covered him down to mid-thigh. His hair was loose about his shoulders, dark and wavy in the half-light. His feet were bare, his calves long and powerful. The sight of him, tall, slightly disheveled, and nearly naked, was enough to make Celsie's throat go dry. He looked better than breakfast.
Better than another few hours of sleep.
Better, even, than the thought of leaving.
"I want to apologize for my bad behavior last night," he said.
"Now? Couldn't this wait till morning?"
"No."
"Very well, then. Now that you've apologized, why don't you go back to bed."
He shrugged. "What's the sense? I've got too much on my mind to sleep."
"Well, why don't you go design another flying machine, then. Or something to help the turnspit dogs so they don't live such horrible lives. Or better yet, a potion to render yourself invisible. I find it most disconcerting to awaken only to find a man staring at me."
"I can't help staring at you. You . . . you're beautiful."
The quiet, matter-of-fact way he said it sent a lightning bolt of feeling straight into Celsie's heart. You're beautiful. No one had ever told her that before. No one. She didn't know how to react to it. Feeling suddenly confused, vulnerable, and more than a little flustered, she pulled the coverlet higher. "And now I'm embarrassed."
"You shouldn't be. Besides, I'm just making an observation. Nothing more."
"I think I'd prefer that you contain your observations to science, not women dressed in their nightclothes and trying to get some sleep."
"Do you realize, Celsiana, that if we don't find a way out of this marriage, the first thing we'll see when we wake up every morning will be each other?" He bent his head and rubbed his toe against the door jamb. His hair fell over his brow, one eye, obscuring his expression. "It's baffling, but for some strange reason, I don't find that a particularly repulsive thought." He lifted his head, looking as vulnerable as Celsie felt. "Do you?"
"No. I suppose you are a little better-looking than Freckles."
"Listen, Celsiana —"
She tensed, holding the sheets tightly around her.
"I'm sorry I was such an ogre last night. I'm sorry that I allowed you to go away thinking that I was angry with you, when indeed, I was not angry with you, but with the fates that have made me what I am." He took a deep breath. "And I'm sorry that if you end up having to marry me, I'm going to make the most abominable of husbands."
She fixed him with a direct glare. "Are you trying to get into my bed, Lord Andrew?"
He looked up, surprised. "Do you want me in your bed, Celsiana?"
"Of course not. It would be unseemly."
"Yes. Yes, I suppose it would be."
She curled and uncurled her toes. "On the other hand —"
He raised his brows.
"On the other hand, I must confess that this is the first time since I can remember that I've slept alone. I guess I miss Freckles."
"And I'd probably make a poor substitute."
"Yes. I daresay you would."
Silence. An expectant, waiting, hopeful silence.
