A soft moan escaped her, and the breathy sensual sound went straight to his groin, surprising him with its intensity. He had only the best of intentions, but it had been so long since he’d been intimate with a woman in any way, and his attraction toward this woman grew more powerful with each encounter.
“That feels...” She gave a small, helpless laugh. “No one has ever touched me this way... with the only intention to comfort.”
Her words made him doubly guilty about the direction his thoughts were taking, and he ruthlessly willed them into submission, a skill he’d mastered over the many years of his marriage. He instead focused on comforting her, doing what he could to make her night a little better. All of the questions he’d had for her about the identity of Prometheus drifted away. He could ask her another time. For now, he just wanted to see her get some rest.
“I would never hurt you,” he whispered as his hands gently massaged her shoulders. “You do so much for these children, Fiona. I only want to give you a little comfort and care in return.”
She held his gaze, a multitude of emotions shifting in those bottomless green eyes, then she bit her lip and nodded. “Thank you, Morgan. I’m just so tired.” With a sigh, she leaned against him, letting her head rest against his shoulder. “It seems like I’m tired all the time. Tired to my very soul.”
He stared at the fragile shell of her ear, very aware of how vulnerable she’d made herself to him. “You do too much,” he chided softly. “You need more sleep.”
She shook her head. “Adrian says that all the time, but there’s just so much to do.”
“You don’t have to do it all yourself, though. You could delegate a few more things to Cook, or one of the maids or teachers.”
She gave a small, choking laugh. “I suppose I just don’t trust anyone enough to believe that they’ll do what is needed.”
“I hope someday you’ll find someone you can trust to help you.” He wished he could be that person for her. Brushing a few silky-soft strands of her hair away from the nape of her neck, he settled his hand against her bare skin, his pulse leaping once again. She made another soft sound as he began to move his thumb in slow circles, working the stiff muscles until she grew pliant and utterly relaxed.
When she began to softly snore, he smiled and let his hand pause, resting it lightly between her shoulder blades. He knew he should get up, go home, and try and get what rest he could, but he felt utterly at peace for the first time in ages. The room was warm and the sofa very comfortable. And the last thing he wanted to do was to wake Fiona by trying to move away from her.
His children were safe at home with their nanny, and there was no reason he shouldn’t simply stay exactly where he was.
Grabbing a blanket off the back of the sofa, he tucked it carefully around Fiona, leaving one small corner for himself, and placed another throw pillow behind his head.
With a contented sigh, he drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Seven
Fiona woke slowly,basking in a strange warmth and contentment. The distant sound of pots clanging in the kitchen told her it was time to get up, but she resisted, knowing that once she opened her eyes, she’d lose whatever peace the night before had brought.
“Fiona,” a deep male voice rumbled disturbingly close to her ear. “Wake up, darling.”
Darling?
Her eyes flew open, and she found that she still rested against Morgan’s shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely around her. He’d covered her with a blanket, and the cold hearth told her that hours had passed.
