Garwood, Julie - The Prize by The Prize

Author:The Prize [Prize, The]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

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Nicholaa awakened to the sound of a waterfall thundering in her ear. It took her a long time to realize what the noise was, and she didn't have any idea at all until she tried to move.

She felt Royce then. His arm was wrapped around her waist. They both slept on their sides. She was in front, with her backside snuggled up against his groin. The noise was her husband's snoring.

Her feet were tucked between his legs. She slowly edged away from him and was about to roll onto her stomach when he tightened his hold and pulled her back up against him.

The movement almost killed her. Her head felt as though it might split in half. She went completely still. Her stomach immediately calmed down. Her mind didn't. Dear God, what had happened last night? She couldn't remember.

She'd slept with her husband. That was the only fact she was certain of. She had no idea what else had happened.

Had she gotten him sotted or had she gotten herself sotted instead? Nicholaa closed her eyes. It was too much to think about with her head pounding. Perhaps if she went back to sleep for just a little longer, she'd feel refreshed enough to remember.

Royce awakened just a few minutes later. Morning light filtered through the window he'd left uncovered. He lifted his head to look at his wife. Her eyes were closed. He thought she might be pretending sleep just to avoid him.

He gently nudged her. She groaned. "Nicholaa?" He whispered her name. She reacted as though he'd roared it. Her hand flew up to cover her ear.

"Are you still sleepy?" he asked. He rolled her onto her back and leaned over her.

The movement made her want to gag. She slowly opened her eyes and looked up at him. Her first thought was that he didn't look ill. Nay, he appeared fit. Happy, too. A lock of hair had fallen over his forehead, giving him a boyish look. If she'd had the strength, she would have eased his hair back where it belonged. The man didn't need much sleep, she supposed. His eyes were filled with laughter, and he seemed ready to take on the world.

He thought she looked like hell. Her eyes were so bloodshot it hurt to look at them. Her complexion was greenish. The aftereffects of too much ale, he decided. His wife was going to suffer this morning.

She fell asleep again while he stared at her. He leaned down and kissed her brow, then rolled onto his side to get out of bed. The movement woke her up. She grabbed hold of the covers to keep herself from shaking.

He noticed that action. "Aren't you feeling well Nicholaa?" he asked.

If he didn't quit shouting, she was going to die. "I'm fine," she whispered.

He laughed. His wife sounded as if she were being strangled.

The man was a morning talker. She vowed to work on that flaw. Royce kept up a steady one-sided conversation while he dressed.

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