Unconventional Betrothals: Volume II by Tanya Anne Crosby

Author:Tanya Anne Crosby [Crosby, Tanya Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oliver Heber Books
Published: 2024-04-23T00:00:00+00:00

20

“I’ll not ask you again,” he swore, and then his shadow descended upon her.

Jessie leapt from the bed, scurrying away. She listened intently to the rustling of the sheets as he snuggled between them, nude, she knew, and the thought made her shiver, though she could see absolutely nothing as his body slipped into the crisp coolness of the sheets. She knew they were cool, even as she knew his body was hot—as was her own. She burned as though with fever.

Once he was settled, he tossed her a blanket. It fell at her bare feet. She stooped to retrieve it, holding it close to her as she stared into the darkness of the curtained bed.

“Where will I sleep?” Her voice trembled slightly. Lord, she loathed herself for that weakness.

He grunted, as though annoyed by her question, and said, “Wherever you wish... in the bed, if you please.” And then he added, “If you dare...”

It was a challenge, a gauntlet cast at her feet, but one Jessie had no intention of accepting, or even acknowledging. She didn’t dare, for she’d be lost if she did.

“I-I shall sleep on the floor, then.”

“As you wish.”

“Oh! I do so wish!” she assured him, her voice laced with bitterness. What manner of man was he to allow her, a gentle-born woman, to sleep on the floor—on the deck of a ship, no less, to roll with the ocean’s waves! God, how could she have ever thought him a gentleman? And again, she had the despairing thought that she was the worst kind of fool, for she was a fool in love.

And he was a devil and a knave, the lowest of low!

Resigning herself to a night of discomfort, she settled upon the floor, drawing the blanket to her chin to keep away the chill of the night. To her chagrin, she found the one blanket was not proof against the cold. And then again, perhaps the chill came from within? And then, too, it was dark... and she could hear him breathing, smoothly, evenly, peacefully.

And then slower still—the cad! How dare he sleep!

In that miserable moment, Jessie despised him immensely. Cursing him, she shifted, trying in vain to find comfort on the hard, cold floor.

He snored.

“Famous!” she muttered to herself.

He made some curious sound, and then it seemed his entire body jerked, as though to catapult him into blissful slumber.

Jessie couldn’t bear it—that he could sleep so peacefully when she was so very miserable.

“Christian?” she whispered. There was no reply. Louder this time, she hissed, “Hawk?”

Still no response.

She waited a moment, and then shouted, “Are you sleeping?”

He grunted, and responded finally, “Not anymore. What the devil do you want now, Jessie?”

“I need a pillow,” she said petulantly.

“I have only one.”

“Might I use it, then?”

“God’s teeth, woman! I am using it!”

Jessie gritted her teeth.

“But you may share it,” he conceded irritably.

“Share it? With you? Thank you, but nay. Is there another cabin I might make use of, then?”

“Nay.”

“Another bed?”

“Jess.”

“Another cot? Another world?” she mumbled beneath her breath.

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