“So long as you promise not to cast a spell on me for daring to approach.”
“You have my word.”
Niall walked over and handed her the knife, which Heather tucked under the pillow. “Thank you.”
He nodded, and there was a moment of charged silence. Once again, the impossibility of this situation struck Heather. She was alone in a room with a man she’d only met that morning.
“I’m, um, going to try to sleep now,” Heather said awkwardly.
“Yes. Of course.” He stepped away from the bed. “I’ll just…do you mind if I keep the light burning for a bit? I’m not tired yet.”
“Oh, please do.” The excessive politeness between them nearly made her laugh again. Was she nearing hysteria? Or just extreme sleepiness?
She lay her head on the pillow and closed her eyes.
Quiet descended, save for the rain and wind that still battered the building.
Heather slitted her eyes open when she heard Niall get up and move across the room. He didn’t go near the bed, though. He went to the fireplace, and tossed another log onto the embers to fend off the night chill. Then he sat down, staring into the flames.
Heather relaxed, slowly drifting toward sleep. She heard Niall shift in his chair from time to time, and the sounds were rather comforting.
A while later, he got up, and she opened her eyes by instinct. He poured water into the basin, and dropped a square of cloth in to soak. Then he stepped back and pulled off his shirt.
Heather swallowed at the sight of him, hulking and half-naked in the candlelight. She had thought him muscular before, but now it was evident that she had severely underestimated his physique. He wasonlymuscle, and taut skin across it. His skin looked coppery in the light from the fire and the candle flame. She could see the ridges and dips of his body when he turned to the side, and the wiry hairs on that massive chest. She wondered what it felt like to touch.
He took the cloth and washed his face, running a hand over the stubble on his chin. He reached out for something and stopped halfway.
No razor,she guessed. All of Niall’s possessions had been left behind when he carried her out of town.
He sighed softly in annoyance, cast about, and then glanced over toward Heather. She shut her eyes, feigning sleep.
Niall walked toward her—how was it possible that he could make no sound when he was the size of a bear?—and knelt by her bedside.
Heather felt the slight shift in the balance of the bed as he slipped his hand under her pillow, searching for the knife. He must have seen her slide it under when she went to bed. She was too nervous to breathe.
After a moment, he retrieved the knife and moved away. Heather exhaled very slowly. What was he up to?
Then she realized. He was merely borrowing the knife to shave. Soap, scrape, splash. The little sounds repeated, mundane and yet foreign to her. There was something terribly intimate about listening to him go through this particularly male ritual.
Eldritch ritual, she thought sleepily, enjoying the sounds in the phrase.
Afterward, Niall approached the bed again. This time he smelled of soap. She heard his breathing as he slid the knife back under her pillow, almost exactly where it had been before, and then the shuffle of his footsteps as he retreated.
That could have goneverydifferently, Heather thought.
She opened her eyes a little, watching him arrange a blanket on the floor near the fire. Then he blew out the candle, leaving only the low fire to illuminate the room. He lay down and rolled onto his side.
Moments later, his breath came slow and even. He was asleep…unless he was pretending just long enough to trick her into sleeping and then he was going to take advantage of her…which he could have done already, and he hadn’t. Instead he’d taken care to return the knife she could use to stab him if she chose to. Really, he was putting a lot of trust in her. She could be a madwoman, luring handsome men into “rescuing” her so she could murder them in their sleep later!
What bookshaveI been reading?she asked herself. Too many gothic novels, that was certain. In any case, Niall was safe from her.
Heather’s eyes slid closed again, and this time she fell asleep for the rest of the night.
* * * *
In the morning, Niall was up and about when Heather woke. He had demolished a simple breakfast on a tray, and she saw a similar (undemolished) meal on a second tray.
“Oh, good, I’m starving,” Heather said, moving to a sitting position.
