The Heir

“We are,” he agreed, finding that for all they were before a fire, he still just couldn’t quite banish a sense of chill in his bones. “And as splitting wood seems to have left me a little stiff, the bed appeals.”

“To bed then,” A

Westhaven left the room to fetch a bucket of wash water from the kitchen, while A

“Your water,” the earl said when he returned moments later. “I see your treasure hunt was successful.”

“The bed is made up.” A

“That should suffice.” The earl yawned as he knelt by the open drawer. “How about if you take the nightshirt, and I take the dressing gown?”

“As you wish, but a few minutes privacy would be appreciated, and…”

“And?” He was just pulling off his boots again, but in the dim firelight, at the end of the day, it struck him as a particularly intimate thing for her to watch.

“You will not touch me tonight? You will not expect me to touch you?”

“Touch as in, your knee bumps my shin, or touch as in what happened this afternoon?” the earl asked, peering into his boot.

“What happened this afternoon. I’ll try not to kick at you, either.”

“I will not make demands of you,” the earl said, leveling a look at her, “but I will want to.” He set aside his boots and rose, leaving her the privacy she requested to wash, change into the nightshirt, and dive beneath the chilly sheets of the bed.

When Westhaven returned, he looked over at the bed and saw A

But he was exhausted, and he’d taken some sort of chill in the rain, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Still, he wasn’t going to waste an opportunity to torment his intended duchess, so he stripped out of his shirt, his breeches, stockings, and smalls, and took the bucket to the hearth, the better to illuminate him for A

Truth to tell, it felt good to be naked and in the same room with her. He found a towel and the soap on the hearth, where A

In the darkness hours later, A

He’s pleasuring himself again. Were all men so afflicted with lust? she wondered, even as that single, repetitive stroke of his hand left a trail of warmth across her flesh. If she rolled over, began kissing him or simply let him hold her, what other means would he find to torment her?

His breathing hitched, sighed, and hitched again, and then his hand went still. A

She could not permit him the liberties he so clearly wanted, but this cuddling and drowsing together, it was more of a gift than he could ever know. While the storm pelted down from the heavens, A

Had Westhaven kept his dressing gown on, A

Westhaven, she realized, was still spooned around her, and the heat was radiating from his body. She shifted away, and he rolled to his back.

He reached for the water glass. “I feel like I came off Pericles at the first jump, and the whole flight rode over me. And it is deucedly hot in this bed.” He rose, wrestling the blankets aside, and sat for a moment on the edge of the mattress as if finding his equilibrium.

“No,” he went on. “I feel worse than that, no reflection on present company, of course.” Without thinking, A

“Good morning to you, too,” she muttered, flouncing back to her side, unwilling to be as casual as he about his nudity. He came back to the bed, took a sip of his water, and frowned.

“I am inclined to purchase this property,” he reflected, “but this bed will have to go. I have never risen feeling less rested.”

A

“Oh, my Lord,” A

“No my lording,” Westhaven groused. “I am quite simply not in the mood for it.”

“No,” A

“You were peeking last night,” he said. “It isn’t as if you haven’t seen me unclothed, A

“It isn’t that,” A

“Oh, Lord, what?”

“You.” She sat back, her head moving from side to side in disbelief. “You’re coming down with the chicken pox.” A stu

“I most certainly am not,” he informed her. “Only children get the chicken pox, and I am not a child.”

“You never had them as a child,” A

The earl glared at his torso, which was sprinkled with small red dots. Not that many, but enough that they both knew they weren’t there the night before. He inspected his arms, which sported a few more.

“This is Tolliver’s fault,” he declared. “I’ll see him transported for this, and Sue-Sue with him.”

“We need to get you home,” A

“You are going to make a sick man travel for hours in this damned rain?” The earl speared her with a look then glared at his stomach again. “Bloody hell.”

“We have few medicinals here, and you will feel worse before you get better, possibly much worse. Best we get you home now.”

“And if the damned gig should slide down a muddy embankment, A

She turned her back on him for that and went to the window, assessing the weather. He had a point, though he’d made it as meanly as possible. The rain was pelting down in torrents, as it had been for much of the night.

“I’m sorry,” the earl said, pushing himself to the edge of the bed. “Being ill u