The Sweetest Hours (Harlequin Superromance) by Parry Cathryn

Author:Parry, Cathryn [Parry, Cathryn]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-12-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

THE NEXT MORNING, Kristin rolled over and rubbed her eyes. For a moment, she had trouble remembering where she was. The bedsheets smelled unfamiliar and felt crisper against her skin than she was used to.

I’m in Scotland. She bolted upright and smiled.

But right beside her, Malcolm was asleep on the chair. His arms were thrown over his head. A lap-blanket was wrapped around his hips.

From the chest up, he was naked. Very, very naked.

The smile drained from her face. Oh, no. She wanted to glance away, but she couldn’t.

Her heart pounded. She thought back to the evening before, trying to remember.

She’d worn her flannel nightgown, which was still on her body. Her hair had been wet from the shower and now was a mess—the result of sleeping on it damp. Malcolm had left for the public rooms, and she had arranged the pillows as a barrier in case he returned to get his things and would receive the reminder that they were here together on business only.

And then somehow, after all her preparations, she’d gone from feeling nervous to falling into a dead sleep, probably because of yesterday’s jet lag. She had a slight headache from not drinking enough water and being dehydrated, and she hadn’t eaten much of the supper they’d shared.

She glanced back at him in the chair. From the bare skin at his hips, it seemed that Malcolm wore nothing, not even underwear. She felt suspicious from the way the light blanket clung to him.

Swallowing, her gaze followed the muscles of his chest and shoulders, the strong biceps bracketing either side of his head, his hands beneath.

His chest rose and fell with every breath from his lungs. Of course Malcolm had to be perfect. Fit. With a strong torso. Slightly tousled hair. Stubble from a day’s growth of beard on his chin.

She couldn’t see his bottom half because it was beneath the blanket.

By instinct, she hugged herself. Then she got up, wheeled her suitcase into the en-suite bathroom and closed the door as soundlessly as she could. Her hands shaking, she dressed in her jeans and a fresh sweater. Brushed her teeth. Washed her face, still creased from lying facedown on the pillowcase, and combed out the tangles in her hair as best she could.

Her pallor was pale, as if she’d been spooked. She’d packed a small pouch with the bare minimum in cosmetics, and she rooted for the pot of blush, her lipstick, and a quick coat of mascara.

Gah! It was no use. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost.

When she came out of the bathroom, Malcolm was awake, rubbing his face with his hands. He saw her and smiled, a transformation that sent him from gruff-looking to Highlander-Adonis. She froze, shocked all over again. She would never get used to that.

“Good morning, Kristy,” he murmured in his sleep-roughened Scots’ voice.

She caught her breath; she couldn’t help it. “I...wasn’t expecting you here.”

“I know.” He shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry. They wouldn’t let me sleep in the parlor.

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