Free The Unintended Bride by Kelly McClymer Page B

be silly. It is much too late, and much too dark for such work."
    "I shall consider there is a door between us, then — "
    "I would trust you as much if you slept here next to me, as if the door were locked and bolted." That was true enough, despite what she had read. Arthur seemed to find it easy to resist his masculine call to fleshly pleasure around her.
    His soft laugh was slightly ragged. "I will do all I can to prove I deserve your trust." She wished, suddenly, she could see his face. But she could not.
    His steps were quiet on the three little stairs down to the next room. She curled up on the dusty floor, listening to the sounds of his settling for the night. All fell silent and she stared up at the stars through the little window, trying not to wish he had wanted to lay beside her enough to forget propriety, and honor, and chivalry.
    Most definitely she did not want to confess her true fear. She was deathly afraid of sleeping alone in this dark, strange place. The fact that she had so many sisters had always ensured that she slept with at least one other person each night.
    Sometimes, during thunderstorms when the lightning was fierce, they had all six curled up in bed together. She could not admit that humiliating fact to Arthur, however. It was absurd for her to feel alone when he was just a few steps away. She fought her fear valiantly. She arranged her cloak as comfortably as possible and leaned herself against one of the bookshelves for support.
    Her position was not the most comfortable she could find, but she dared not lay flat on the floor; she felt too vulnerable. Vulnerable to what, she could not say. She trusted Arthur. It was just that the dark felt like a menacing presence tonight.
    She scoffed at her own fears, listened to Arthur's movements in the other room for confirmation that he was still there, and tried to remind herself that she was an intrepid adventurer who could withstand this tiny hardship.
    If only there were enough light, she could read more of A Milkmaid's Life to take her mind off her circumstances. Arthur had said nothing to her about the book. He hoped he thought it as innocent a tale as she had when she first began reading it. Did milkmaids truly have gentlemen who admired them so?
    She grew warm, remembering the escapades of the simple dairy girl. Of course, she was a simple, beautiful dairy girl. It had been foolish of her to read those tales. Her thoughts now were wicked, thoughts of the flesh. Of how it would feel to have Arthur lying beside her in the dark, to have his arms around her.
    To have him kiss her as the milkmaid's admirer had kissed the milkmaid — Hero blushed to think that those kisses had not just been on the mouth . . . But she stopped the direction of those thoughts, which made it impossible to sleep. She closed her eyes and tried to count sheep.
    That, of course, became difficult when the silent darkness settled around her like a cloak. She jumped each time she heard a rustle, or a squeak, real or imagined.
    Unfortunately, her imagination was quite lively, and she did not seem to be able to keep still.
    Once, a mouse ran over her foot and she screamed. It was only a little scream, but she heard Arthur stir next door, and the next minute heard his tread on the stairs. "Is something wrong?"
    "A mouse just ran over my foot, I am fine." She tried to sound brave, but her efforts sounded pitiful even in her own ears.
    He moved across the floor steadily, quietly. She realized he had removed his boots. To her astonishment, he settled himself beside her. "Would it help if I hold you and guard you against the mice?" Her heart squeezed with a regret so sharp, she had not realized how very much she had come to care for him. His offer was a gesture she wished with all her heart had been elicited by more than his impatience with her squeamishness. For a moment, she resisted. "I am fine, truly. I was only startled."
    "Are you certain?" He leaned in close to her and she could