The Lady Tamed Boyd, Heather (reading list .txt) 📖

a noise and drawing attention, which is the last thing I want to do at this hour.”

Jeremy raked a hand through his hair. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Do you mind very much staying with me again?”

“Of course not.” He shrugged away his concern for the proprieties. He could move about the house very silently if he put his mind to it, and he had a hundred well-considered excuses up his sleeve if he was spotted in the wrong place. But he didn’t want to get back into the bad habit of skulking around houses that someone else owned. “I suppose it will only hurt the first time a member of your family murders me.”

She laughed softly at his suggestion. “They’ll understand why you stayed when I tell them why, after the wedding.”

“Let’s hope they are not under the influence when you do.” He turned around, placing a chair directly in front of the door. “I was looking forward to continuing my part in your delightful country play.”

“Not so delightful tonight I’m afraid.”

“I’ve not had a turnip thrown at me yet.” He lowered to sit in the chair, crossed his legs at the ankle and folded his arms over his chest. If anyone came to his lady’s room tonight, Jeremy would deal with them. “Try to get some sleep.”

Fanny was suddenly beside him, shaking his shoulder. “Are you not going to sleep beside me again?”

He glanced up at her in surprise. Last night had been an aberration, a product of grief renewed and convenience that he was around. “I’m guarding you.”

She licked her lips. “Well, but, yes, so… You could also protect me from the comfort of my bed, too.”

Jeremy looked at the bed, and then at the door, and then at Fanny standing there with her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth. He knew where he’d rather sleep.

“Please,” she whispered. “I would feel better for having you near, and you need your rest for tomorrow, too.”

Jeremy carefully propped the delicate chair against the door on two legs, nudging the back under the handle and making sure it would stay there. It wouldn’t stop anyone from entering the chamber if they put their back into shoving the door. But any movement of the chair should wake him. “If anyone comes during the night, get under your bed and leave the cur to me.”

“I will,” she promised. “I feel safer already just knowing you’ll be here to confront anyone that comes.” Fanny slipped behind her dressing screen, apparently not needing his help to change tonight.

He grew warm just thinking about those delicious curves he’d held last night. His hands itched to hold her, and his mouth grew dry because he did want to kiss her properly just once before he returned to London.

Thankfully, Fanny returned quickly, attired in the same prim nightgown but with a robe over the top. She moved to her mirror to take down her hair from the tight coils she’d had it styled in for dinner.

Jeremy sucked in a breath as she unwound the strands and ran her fingers through the long locks to the ends.

Fanny turned to him. “Is something wrong?

He took a step in her direction. “Where I grew up, women only grew their hair long to sell it.”

She beamed. “Would you like to touch it?”

He nodded and crossed the room to her side, his fingers itching to become tangled up in the softness of a pampered head of hair. He drew some up to his face to brush across his cheek, but was startled by a memory dredged up from the murky depths of his past. “I think my mother had hair almost as long as yours.”

“I thought you said you didn’t remember her?”

He shook his head. “I don’t really. But this reminded me that her hair was long and brown.”

“Like yours.”

“Prettier.” He backed away. Too much intimacy between them was dangerous. He was playing a role and not meant to forget his purpose in being here. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow will be another emotional day, I suspect.”

She gathered her hair together and tied it loosely with a ribbon at her nape. She dabbed sweet-smelling cream to her face and neck and then suddenly turned to face him. “I’m glad you remembered your mother. I think she’d be proud of her son.”

“Not if she could see where I’m standing.” Jeremy threw an arm wide, gesturing her toward her bed impatiently. “Good night, Lady Rivers.”

Fanny climbed into her bed and then patted the space beside her. “Come to bed, Jeremy.”

Jeremy hesitated a moment before joining her. Tonight, though, he kept his jacket and boots on. He wanted nothing to impede his speed if someone came back…or when he snuck out of the chamber a second night in a row.

But sleep eluded him. He was alert to every creak of the great house around them.

Fanny, he believed, remained wide awake on her side of the bed, too. Her feet kept shifting, her occasional sigh loud in the dark room.

He turned his head to face her. “Did you sleep beside your husband when you were married?”

Fanny rolled toward him. “Yes.”

“How did you sleep? In his arms or separated?”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“Well, I don’t really have a specific reason other than distracting you from worrying that someone might return.” He shrugged. “And if I was ever to be offered the role of a loving husband in a play, I merely wondered what my options would be for the bedroom scene.”

She sighed. “Not all husbands like to share a bed with their wives. Even when they love them to distraction.”

He nodded. “What sort of man should I be? Someone who holds you all night long or worships from afar?”

“This is just a play we are speaking of, isn’t it?”

He drew in a slow breath. He wanted to hold her tonight very much, but he was waiting for her to at least hint in that direction, too. “Of course. I am yours to direct.”

Fanny shifted