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Her head dropped a bit to the side and her words wearied.
He wanted these moments. They were harmless. Nothing to be concerned about. Nothing he would remember later and feel guilty for, even when he was married to his duchess. No one would know that his mind wandered to places where it shouldn’t. This was just a simple moment between two people who happened to be in the same room.
‘I am tired of reading,’ she said, closing the book.
He took it from her hands and put it on the other side of himself, causing him to move so close their sides brushed. Without her voice, it felt as if the whole world had ceased to have sound.
Rhys spoke softly, not wanting to disturb even a dust mote in the air. ‘Tell me why you cannot tolerate dancing. Not the dance itself, but the holding.’
‘It has always been this way.’ The words were slow and barely reached his ears. She’d closed her eyes for a moment and she opened them when she answered. ‘Or at least for a long time.’
‘When did it start?’
‘I’m not sure. But I know the dreams started on the ship to England. The first night I slept afterward.’
Her eyes flicked to his face. He didn’t move, waiting.
‘I told you that when I was on Melos...’ The purr of sleepiness left her voice, but her lids dropped again. ‘Men woke my sister Thessa and me during the night. They forced us from our rooms and one was going to wed my sister Thessa whether she wished it or not, and the other was going to—wed me, and I...could not have survived marriage to him. Or he could not have survived marriage to me. Snake. Fidi.’
‘And...’ he said, barely speaking.
‘And Thessa and I swam to the English ship in the harbour. It left. We sailed here.’
He didn’t want her to open her eyes, afraid if she did she’d pull back, taking him from this shared moment. He gave a soft sound of acknowledgement, looking at the shape of her face, and the skin, so delicate he feared even brushing his fingertip against it might be too rough.
He slid further from her on the sofa so he could put his hand along the back. His fingertips could have easily held her shoulder or dipped a bit lower and touched the bare skin where her sleeve ended. In his mind, he could feel her. Perhaps he truly did because the warmth of her body flowed outward. He was so close it had to be wafting to him.
‘The island men pursued us, but the captain and his crew fought them off. I thought we were safe, but later on our voyage a man decided I was bad fortune.’ She touched her throat, slender fingers resting against her skin. ‘He tried to toss me overboard to drown in the seas. I couldn’t breathe I was so frightened. Thessa pulled him from me.’
Spears of rage hit his midsection. Those words changed everything. They slammed into him as if his own body had been thrust hard against a wooden fortress. His temple pounded. He pulled back, not wanting her to sense the violence inside him.
How dare someone touch her so? He would have killed him without hesitation. He forced his voice to be calm, but it took a moment. ‘I am pleased you were unhurt.’
Her lips turned up, not so much in a smile, but in some sort of inner amusement. ‘I have a sword. I thought it would protect me, but I almost cut off my own nose.’ Her eyes opened and she looked at him. In that second, he felt the same intimacy he might when looking across bedcovers at a woman, only it wasn’t the same. This was more intense, deeper—something he hadn’t known existed. It was as if she’d just taken over his whole body. As if her spirit was twice his size and had wrapped itself around him, cradling him. He never wanted to lose this feeling.
She leaned towards him, touching, perhaps not touching but brushing, just at the top of her nose, and he almost felt the sensation of her fingertips. The trail of her hand lingering against his skin in the same way she swept her hand above her own nose. ‘Can you see the scar?’ she asked, voice husky. She slid more towards him. He could not move.
A tiny white line rested just at the bridge. ‘How did you do that? Was it that man?’
‘It wasn’t him. This was when I was living in England. I was taking the weapon from the shelf where I had put it to keep it from my niece. It fell.’ She shut her eyes again, only for a moment. ‘I didn’t know how I was going to tell my sister, since she’d already complained about the sword. But luckily, her babe chose that moment to be born and no one noticed my hand—’ she rested her palm over her nose and peered out at him from around it ‘—covering my face. By the time my nephew was safely tucked into the family, the scratch hardly showed.’
She took her hand from her face. ‘He was so tiny. I did not see why her stomachi needed to grow so big to have such a little babe.’
