“Ah, but you did teach me that it was the way to reach someone privately in the night.”
It would always come back to that. And Shawna was dismayed to realize that the very strength of her fury against him made her want to touch him. She wanted to pound against him, and then…
Feel him. She was on fire. So very angry, yet so very much alive and wanting.
She carefully backed away from him again. “Would you like a pillow and blanket for a place before the hearth?”
“No. Would you?”
She caught her breath. “Surely, you don’t mean to sleep—in the bed?”
“We’ve agreed it is mine,” he reminded her politely.
Damn him.
“I will sleep before the hearth,” she heard herself say.
“Go ahead then, my lady. Whatever pleases you.”
She plucked her pillow from the bed and dragged off the quilted coverlet. She did her best to make herself comfortable in the chair before the fire.
David cast off his cape and boots and lay down upon the bed.
“Good night,” he said pleasantly.
“Go to hell.”
He ignored her, stretching out comfortably.
She could scarcely believe it.
Seconds of night ticked away. His eyes were closed. He seemed comfortable and at ease.
She was wretched in the chair.
But he did sleep, so it seemed. She was unbelievably uncomfortable. Surely, it would have been better to attempt to sleep with him near her on the bed. Nay…that would have been even more wretched!
She threw her pillow and coverlet upon the floor before the hearth and tried to curl up there. The stone was cold. She watched the fire and prayed for sleep.
He didn’t sleep,not so easily.
He remained very still as the night passed, determined that she would think him quite naturally at rest. When she finished fidgeting in the chair and curled down upon the floor, he continued to remain still for a long time.
Then he halfway sat up, eyeing her prone form. This was a strange anguish when the temptation was to swear impatiently, wrench her up, and pull her into the warmth and softness of the bed with him.
And then…
It would be a far better thing for him were she not to realize that he found her quite so tantalizing.
Wanting her had indeed, once upon a time, sent him into all the blazes and tortures of pure hell.
David lay back down upon his pillow, closing his eyes tightly. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temple, as if he could squeeze away the pressure building in his head.
God, he had lived that night over and over again in the years that had followed it!
He could see her every time just as she had come to him that night. Through the secret stairway. And she had stood, framed by the moonlight, whispering his name.
“David…”