Page 45 of The Rules of Matrimony
“What is it now?” Ian asked, taking up his discarded waistcoat.
She’d been staring. But how could she not? In one moment, one of the many walls between them had simply vanished. She didn’t know the removal of fine clothing could do that. It was just the two of them, her in her nightgown with her tangled curls in a haphazard braid and him—the man who had slept beside her—standing thusly.
“Nothing.” She blinked and looked away. Their strange, guarded relationship hadn’t prevented them from finding themselves in another intimate situation. It was as if fate were trying to tell them something. But perhaps fate would be better off focusing on a more willing couple in less trying circumstances.
Clearing her throat, she suggested an idea while he put on his waistcoat. “There is a dressing screen in the room next door covered in Holland covers. Could we not bring it in here? That ought to solve some of our problems for the next several days.”
“Brilliant.” He arched his back and groaned.
“Was the floor more comfortable than the bed?”
He pinned her with a glare. “The floor does not kick me in its sleep.”
She blinked. “Oh my. I did have a restless night. I apologize.”
Ian shook his head. “You didn’t move more than an inch the night of the storm, but last night, pillows were flying as though someone had dragged a catapult in here.”
She wanted to disappear into the cracks in the floors. “How ... mortifying.”
“Nonsense. You cannot control what you do in your sleep. At least, I don’t think you can. Perhaps you subconsciously wanted to abuse me.” He moved to her dressing table and looked at himself in the mirror. “No bruises on my face, thankfully.”
“I kicked you in the face?” Her hand went to her mouth.
He turned to her, his defined jaw clenching. “You weren’t asleep, were you? You broke rule number one again, and I daresay you’re getting more creative in how you do it. Was this my punishment for imposing on you?”
She quickly shook her head.
“Now I understand why you asked me to sleep upside-down. I did apologize for this situation I put you in. Why couldn’t you have merely told me that you hated it?” He set his hands on his hips and stalked toward her, stopping just in front of her. His eyes peered steadily into hers, searching for answers he surely would not find.
Last night, she had felt as though they were two members of the same team—partners, so to speak. He had even answered her question about his father, even though it couldn’t have been easy. How could she have kicked him in the face and ruined all their progress? Now he thought she wanted to abuse him?
Annoyed at herself, she blurted in a frustrated tone, “If I’d wanted to kick you, I wouldn’t have done it covertly.”
One thick brow rose. “What does that mean?”
“It means if I had wanted to kick you, I would have done it just as we are and not while you were unconscious.” Maybe. With the way he looked at her, rendering her nearly breathless, she wasn’t sure her weak knees could produce a kick at all.
Ian put his hand up against the wall behind her head. When had she stepped back against it? “I see. Are you feeling particularly like you want to kick me just now? Because I would rather have it done here in private than anywhere else. Could you please give your generally nice husband such a courtesy?”
“I ... I ...”
“I’m tired, Amie. If you’re going to get out any aggression, do it now. I’ll let you.”
Her eyes flicked to the grim line of his mouth. It was easier to look there than meet his gaze while it peered into her very soul. A sudden memory came to mind—one where she had experienced touching that mouth before. Fiddlesticks! She shouldn’t have looked at his lips either. Heat flooded not just her face but her entire being, too, and she glanced back up at his eyes. “I ... don’t want to kiss you.”
His eyes smoldered. “Who said anything about kissing?”
She frowned. What had she said?Kissyou? She frantically shook her head. “I mean, kick you. Not kiss you.”
“Really?” His words came out low. “Because you seem to have an affinity for both.” His gaze dropped to her mouth.
“Who, me?” She gave a nervous laugh. She started to explain herself but her words died. Was it her, or was gravity pulling them closer together by the moment? Either there was no air in the room, or she had forgotten how to breathe.
A knock on the door sounded, and Ian’s eyes met hers once more. He didn’t pull away like she thought he would but stayed in that same position, with his hand on the wall beside her head, studying her. The heat in his gaze seemed to burn her cheeks.
She blinked, and the spell broke.
He pulled back and cleared his throat.
