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Grace put a hand on his shoulder as she wheeled her pull-along case behind her. ‘You said the hot water would work?’
He nodded.
‘Then I’m going to duck in the shower.’
He stood up quickly, brushing his hands. ‘As soon as I light the fire I’ll go and check out one of the other rooms.’
She shook her head again. ‘Honestly, don’t worry. I’m pretty sure we can sleep in the giant bed without either of us feeling compromised.’ She gave him a smile, ‘You’ve no idea how many layers I can wear.’ She opened the door to the bathroom and dragged her case inside. A few seconds later he heard the shower start to run. She stuck her head back outside as he started trying to light the fire. ‘But if you decided to go to the kitchen and make some tea I wouldn’t object.’ She frowned. ‘Tea. We did bring tea, didn’t we?’
He nodded as the fire sparked into life. ‘Tea, milk and biscuits.’ He arched his back, stretching out the knots from the long journey. ‘Tea I think I can manage.’
Thank goodness he was tired. Thank goodness he was overwhelmed with stepping back inside the castle. If he hadn’t been, he would have spent the whole time wondering how on earth he would manage to keep his distance from Grace while they were the only two people here. He shook his head as he headed to the kitchen. He should have thought about this beforehand. If he hadn’t been able to resist kissing her under a lamp post in London, how on earth would he keep thoughts of touching her from his head now? He couldn’t even think about that bare skin in the shower. No way.
By the time he came back Grace was sitting on the bed, her hair on top of her head, wrapped up in one of the giant duvets. She looked as if she had old-fashioned fleecy pyjamas on. He was pretty sure he was supposed to find them unappealing and unsexy.
Trouble was—he just didn’t. Not when they were on Grace. He set the steaming-hot tea down on the bedside table along with some chocolate biscuits. She nodded towards the bathroom. ‘I left the shower running for you. Figured you’d want to wash the dust off.’ She leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘Just don’t tell the owner. I hear he keeps tabs on the water usage.’
He put his tea down next to hers. ‘I think I can take him,’ he said with a smile on his face.
In the dim light of the room all he could focus on was the warmth from her brown eyes. ‘We’ll see.’ She picked up her tea and took a sip. ‘Not bad.’ She gave an approving nod. ‘And just think, Alec didn’t even give you written instructions.’
He laughed as he pulled his bag into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. It only took a few seconds to strip off his dusty clothes and step into the warm shower. Grace had left some shampoo and shower gel—both pink, both smelling of strawberries.
He started using them without thinking, let the water stream over his body along with distinctly female scent. His stomach started to flip-flop again.
She’d made things sound so casual. As if sharing a bed was no big deal.
And it wasn’t—to most men.
It wasn’t as if he hadn’t shared a bed with a woman in the last five years. He had—if only for the briefest of moments.
But that hadn’t actually been sharing a bed. That had been using a bed. Something else entirely. He hadn’t slept next to another woman since Anna had died. He hadn’t woken up with another woman.
That was what made him jittery. That was what was messing with his head.
He couldn’t deny the attraction to Grace. His body thrummed around her. He couldn’t pretend that it didn’t. When he’d kissed her—he’d felt lost. As if time and space had just suspended all around them. His hands rubbed his head harder than they needed to, sending the shampoo over his face and eyes, assaulting his senses with the scent.
He leaned back against the bathroom tiles, adjusting the water to a cooler temperature. The house was still freezing. But the heat in this bathroom seemed ridiculously high. Steam had misted the mirror. It was kind of clawing at his throat, making it difficult to breathe.
He turned the dial on the shower once more; the water turned instantly icy, cooling every part of his body that had dared to think itself too hot. All breath left his body in shock as he turned the knob off.
He grabbed the already semi-wet towel and started drying himself vigorously. He didn’t want to think that this was the same towel Grace had used to dry her silky soft skin. He didn’t want to think that at all.
He glanced at his still-closed bag. Oh, no. He wasn’t a pyjama kind of guy. Never had been. What on earth could he wear in bed with Grace?
