Page 43 of The Rules of Matrimony
Once again, his frustration melted at the sight of her. He fought his smile as he blew out the candles by the fireplace and, though she might not appreciate it, approached her on her side of the bed. He handed her the warm milk.
She sat up and accepted it. “Thank you. This is very thoughtful.”
“You’re welcome.” He pointed to the pillows. “The boundary line is most creative.”
“I didn’t want to accidentally touch you. I know how sensitive you are about rule number one.”
His brows rose. “Me? Sensitive?”
She nodded.
He wasn’t sensitive about anything. He opened his mouth to argue, but there was no point. She was right that he didn’t want her to touch him, but not because he was afraid she would give him a disease. In truth, he wanted her comfort more than his own. “My sensitivities are not as important as yours. Is there anything else I can do to make this night easier for you?”
She studied the bed that looked a great deal smaller with her in it, especially with the pillows. He would be sleeping on the edge all night.
“Perhaps you could sleep upside-down?” she asked.
“What?” The word came out louder than he’d intended. He looked at the wall separating them from his parents and, in a lower voice, repeated, “What?”
“You know, put your head on the opposite end of the bed and your feet near the top?”
Of all the ridiculous ideas. He bit down his natural response once more. “I can certainly do as you ask.” It trumped sleeping on the floor.
Amie finished her milk and set it aside. “I’ll turn away while you undress.” She blew out her candle beside her and put the blanket over her head.
She made it sound like he was stripping down to nothing. He held in his chuckle and moved to his side of the bed. He cast off his boots, jacket, cravat, and waistcoat. Then he unbuttoned the top of his shirt so he could breathe better. Neither it nor his trousers were going anywhere. He didn’t want to shock Amie more than the circumstances already were.
He blew out the candle on his side of the bed, the last one lit, before flipping his pillow to the bottom of the bed and slipping under the covers himself. “You can take the blanket off your head now. I’m decent.”
Amie pulled the blanket off, but even in the dark, he could tell she did not move to glance at him. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
He lay there for several minutes, sleep evading him. Devil take it, his pillow smelled like Amie—an intoxicating vanilla that would haunt his dreams.
Amie stirred on her side. “Ian?” she whispered.
“Hmm?”
“You don’t have to tell me, but I am curious why you and your father do not get along.”
“It’s a long history. I am not certain where to start.”
“I see. Is there anything about your father that you admire? Or does everything about him bother you?”
What a question. “Must I answer?”
“No, you don’t have to.”
He thought about it for a moment. So much of his father bothered him that he hadn’t spared a moment to look for any good qualities. He supposed the man had a few, as most people did. Ian thought she might be asleep by the time he answered. “I suppose he is decisive and not easily fooled.”Unfortunately for them.
Amie stirred a little. “It seems he gave his best traits to you.”
He gave a half smile against his pillow. “I’m glad you see something in me worth admiring after what I’ve put you through tonight.”
“I see more good in you than that,” she said. “Though sometimes I don’t think you want others to know how good you are.”
He shook his head against his pillow. Amie could be extremely honest when she decided to open up to a person. “You sound like my friends in Brookeside. Sometimes, I think they’re the only ones who know the real me.” He didn’t know why he’d said it, but there was no taking it back now.
