Page 59 of Snowbound Regency Christmas
‘As if I would ever touch you.’
She sniffed and then climbed into bed on the side of her sheets. He entered the opposite side and saw that she had cocooned herself in linen. Devin knew that sleeping in the same bed as a beautiful woman that you couldn’t touch would be dashed uncomfortable. But this was bordering on torture. Julia fell right asleep and made more sweet little noises that inflamed him. She even mumbled a few words that Devin couldn’t quite understand. He saw her curls flared over the pillow and he longed to touch them. She was only an arm’s reach away from him, but she was untouchable.
Julia had belonged to his brother and then she had betrayed him. Only a complete and utter fool would long desperately for her caress.
Chapter Five
Christmas Eve
Julia woke up in the early morning feeling overheated. Huffing, she threw off her coverlet, only to realise that the cause of her discomfort was the large, handsome man who still slept soundly beside her. Although her thin sheet separated them, his body gave off heat like a stove.
Devin had lied.
He was touching her. Or at least the entire side of his body was pressed up against hers most agreeably—annoyingly. Whichever word applied, Julia felt very hot and bothered. She’d never slept in the same bed as a man before and her curiosity threatened to overcome her good judgement. His facial features were softer as he slept—highlighted by the sunrise and the dim light of their dying fire. Julia’s hands began to shake with the overwhelming need to touch him. To feel his hot skin against hers. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Devin. To have his strong arms around her and to bury her face in his broad chest. She lifted her hand to touch him but paused over his rising and falling chest.
What if he were to wake up?
Or, worse, move back over to his side of the bed?
Julia liked having his body close to hers—forsafety. Shoulder to shoulder. Arm to arm. Torso to torso. Leg to leg. She dared not shift or move a muscle which might cause him to turn away from her.
She tried to go back to sleep, but now that she was awake, Julia felt quite hungry and altogether aware of the man sleeping beside her. Not that she regretted not eating the slop that had been served at supper. It had been inedible, but clearly Mr Peebles was not to be trusted in the kitchen and since his wife was away, Julia would have to take charge of breakfast. Thanks to Mrs Heap, she was able to boil eggs, make bread, and assist in simple meals. When Julia had balked at being treated like a kitchen maid, Mrs Heap had threatened to throw her out on her ear.
Rubbing her ear with her free hand, Julia swore that never again would she allow someone to have so much power over her—including her tyrant of a father. And certainly not Devin.
If she stayed beside him much longer, she might lose control of her body. Julia got out of bed. She resolutely did not look at Devin’s face while he was sleeping. Therefore she did not see his hair charmingly mussed and a stupid, open-mouth expression that was somehow warming her belly. No, she took off her nightgown and put on her stays, yesterday’s now dry gown, an apron and her mother’s chatelaine. This dress was her warmest and this inn felt chilly. Julia was tempted to leave her hair down just to taunt Devin, but she plaited it instead so that it would not get in the way of her cooking.
Slipping into her shoes, Julia decided that since it was Christmas Eve, she would be generous. So before leaving, she added two more logs to the dying fire. No doubt her act of kindness would irk Devin more than her insults had.
Julia went down the stairs and found Peebles in the kitchen. The stove was lit and he was boiling a pot of water—that could be helpful. Still, the wooden countertops were covered in dried bits of food from the night before and Julia would not trust herself to eat from any dish that Peebles had washed.
As if by instinct, Mr Peebles held up his hands when he saw her, then swept her an exaggerated bow. ‘Mrs Ballantine, how may I help you?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought perhaps that I might help you.’
His eyebrows raised and he stroked his dirty red beard. ‘You know how to cook, ma’am?’
‘A little. Would you please pour that boiling water in the basin and I shall wash the dishes. Then you can fetch me eggs, flour, yeast and salt. Now, please tell me that you have butter.’
Devin woke up with a start. Instinctively he reached across the bed for Julia, but she wasn’t there. Had Pip or Rhys kidnapped her in the night? His pulse quickened and he threw off his coverlet, getting to his feet ready to do battle for her life. Blinking, he noticed that her stays and gown were no longer hanging near the healthy fire—Julia must have added logs to it. If she had been in trouble, the irascible young lady would not have stopped to make sure that he was warm. Devin sat back down on the bed and released a long sigh. Julia must have already gone downstairs for breakfast. She had not eaten a bite the night before.
His eyes went back to the hearth where his clothing was hung up in an orderly fashion. Why had she stoked the fire? He had certainly given her no reason to be kind to him.
What sort of game was she playing?
Was the vixen trying to entrap a second Ballantine brother with her wiles, only to discard him again?
Well, Devin was not about to fall into her traps. Nor be swayed by the gentle swell of her hips and the sweet curves of her bosom.
No.
He would treat her with common courtesy and no more. Julia Sullivan wasn’t worth his jibes, he reminded himself. The way she had treated his brother showed him that she was beneath him.
Oh dear, that was not a good phrase for him to imagine first thing in the morning. Luckily, the air was mighty cold when he stripped bare and put on his fresh clothing. He took out his toothbrush and paste and cleaned his teeth, before brushing his hair. Not that he was trying to impress anyone—especially not Julia. It was merely good hygiene.
Devin made sure that his purse was in his coat pocket when he left his room. He would be a fool to leave it unattended with two thieves in the inn—even in its secret compartment. He walked to the end of the hall and stopped when he reached the door of Rhys and Pip. Holding still and quiet, he heard two very distinct snores. One was short and staccato. The other long like a bullhorn. At least if they were asleep he didn’t have to worry about their shenanigans yet.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Mr Mack sitting next to his daughter near the hearth, while Mrs Mack was setting the table. Devin was about to ask where his wife was—where Julia was—when she opened the door to the kitchen carrying a tray of boiled eggs in decorative bowls. He watched silently as she set two eggs in front of each mismatched chair.
