Wyatt couldn’t sleep. He tossed. He turned. He kicked off the covers. He even turned his pillow over, punching the thick stuffing of feathers into place and still, he couldn’t sleep. It was because of her, in the room next to his. Hell, even here, in this spare room he never used, he could smell her perfume.
After tossing and turning a little more, he gave up. Maybe a nice piece of cake and a glass of milk would help. He rose from his bed, shook his head at the mess he’d made of the blankets, and slipped into a pair of trousers and a shirt. He struck a match and lit a lamp, adjusting the glass over the wick. Padding slowly to the door in his bare feet, he made sure he was as quiet as possible. No sense waking everyone else up just because he couldn’t sleep.
The door creaked as he opened it and he cringed. So much for not waking anyone else. He noticed light spilling from beneath the door to Sheridan’s—his— room. She must be awake as well. Or perhaps, she’d fallen asleep with the lamp still burning.
He listened outside her door, then heard the telltale creak of the floorboards. She wasn’t sleeping. She was pacing.
He smiled. Maybe she’d like a piece of cake and a glass of milk, too. He raised his hand and knocked softly on the wood panel with his knuckle.
The door opened a moment later and she stood there, looking as beautiful as ever, her long blonde hair plaited into a braid, the tail of which lay over her shoulder atop her burgundy robe. She drew in her breath and her eyes widened as they roamed over him. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Did I wake you?”
He kept his voice low. “You didn’t wake me. I couldn’t sleep.”
“I couldn’t sleep, either. It’s so quiet here.”
He hadn’t thought of that. He was used to the quiet and enjoyed it, but she lived in a parlor house. It was probably never quiet. “Yes, it is.” He held out his hand. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going?”
“The kitchen.”
Her eyes lit up at that. “For some cake? Your mother bakes like a dream.”
He laughed softly. “That she does.”
She slipped her hand in his. He felt the warmth of it tug at his heart as he led her downstairs.
Duke raised his head from his cocoon of blankets beside the stove as they entered the kitchen. His tail thumped the floor in greeting. Wyatt bent down to give him a pat. “Sorry, boy. Go back to sleep.” The dog heaved a sigh and laid his muzzle on his outstretched paws, his expressive eyebrows raising and falling, first over one eye then the other. After a moment, he heaved another sigh and went back to sleep.
Wyatt set the lamp down, then pulled plates from the cupboard and a knife and forks from the drawer, bringing them to the table. He grabbed two glasses while Sheridan opened the icebox and brought out the pitcher of milk. She seated herself at the table and grinned at him.
“I’ve never done this before.”
“Done what?”
“Had a snack in the middle of the night. This is fun. I feel a little like a thief.”
He looked at her, surprised. “You’ve never had a midnight snack?”
She shook her head as she poured milk into their glasses. “Once dinner was done at the school, the kitchen was closed. There were consequences for anyone, teacher or student, who invaded Madame Gerard’s domain. Madame did not like anyone in her kitchen.”
“What about now? I know Mrs. Gallagher runs a tight kitchen, but surely, she wouldn’t mind if you snuck down there for a cookie or something.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, but it’s not something I would do.”
He frowned, realizing her life was so much different than his. “What about when you were younger, before you went to school?”
She shook her head again. “Sneak down to the kitchen in my grandmother’s house? It just wasn’t done. Grand-mère’s rule.”
“I’m sorry. You missed something fun. My brothers and I did this all the time. My mother usually wasn’t happy that we ate anything we could get our hands on in the middle of the night, especially when we became teenagers. She always said we had hollow legs.” He laughed. “We were never full, even though, as you know, Mother cooks hearty, healthy food.” He lifted the lid from the cake plate to reveal half a chocolate cake with thick chocolate frosting. Raspberry jelly dripped from between the layers. “How big a piece do you want?”
She looked at the cake then at him. “Just a small slice.”
He chuckled and placed the edge of the knife just so.
“Bigger.”
He moved the knife.
