“You’re home, in bed. You’re safe, baby,” Nick reassured her.
“How—What happened?” Why was he here? she wanted to ask.
“You screamed. A nightmare, I’m guessing?” Kind hands smoothed through her hair, soothing her.
She nodded.
“Do you want to talk about it? It might help.”
“No,” she croaked, unwilling to relive the horrible dream.
“Okay. I’ll get you some water.” After a moment, he let go and stepped back. She watched him walk to the door, and fear assailed her.
Don’t leave me, she wanted to scream but she held her tongue.
She needed to start standing on her own two feet, nightmare or no bloody nightmare. She sat up and fought to regain her composure. By the time he walked through the door, she’d put her nightgown back in place, and the hands she’d run through her hair were folded in her lap.
Expecting him to hand over the glass of water and leave, she almost choked on her first sip when he pulled up a chair and sat down. “What are you doing?”
“I always find company helps after a bad dream.”
“You’ve had nightmares?” She couldn’t quite mask her surprise.
A wry smile whispered over his lips. “I’ve had one or two in my time, believe it or not.”
And he’d probably had a warm, nubile body next to him to help erase the unpleasantness. The thought hurt more than she wanted it to. She clenched her hand to hide its trembling.
“Well, I’ll be fine, so feel free to return to…whatever you were doing.”
“I was in bed next door, but I wasn’t asleep.”
“You’re next door?” She couldn’t hide her surprise.
“Where did you expect me to be?”
“At the opposite end of the wing,” she blurted.
She tried not to let the thought of Nick sleeping so close by bother her, tried to ignore the frisson of awareness that shot through her at the thought that he’d been lying awake only a few feet away. She tried harder not to think of the Nick who’d slept in the nude during their marriage.
“Sorry to disappoint you,” he replied.
I’m not disappointed. The words didn’t spill out, for which she was thankful.
Unable to stop herself, her gaze traveled over him. He’d donned a T-shirt over silk boxers, but that didn’t stop her from recalling the sight of his hair-roughened chest and the way it’d felt pressed against her minutes ago. Her heart thudded, this time to a different sensation, born not of fear but arousal. Lowering her eyes, she glanced at his thighs—taut and muscle-bound, and again sprinkled with silky hair. At the sight of his bare feet, her stomach somersaulted. She swallowed around a tight throat and raised her eyes to find his on her, a banked fire in their depths sending an undeniable pang through her body.
“Thanks for the water. Don’t let me keep you.” She put the glass down, hoping the dismissive move would send him on his way.
He merely shook his head, but his movements were jerky, a tension hovering over him as he frowned. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave you alone. I’ll stay. Try and go back to sleep.”
From somewhere she managed to summon a laugh. “Not a chance.”
One brow shot up. “Am I a distraction?”
“Not by half! You’re sitting there like some overprotective bear, and whatever was bothering you earlier has obviously still got you fired up…” When he didn’t take up the veiled invitation to share, she sighed. “Fine, let’s both choose the strong-and-silent route.”
“We could be very English and banal and talk about the weather? Or art?”
“It’s half past two in the morning. I don’t have much need for the weather. Or art for that matter.” She sank back into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. “But I do need my sleep, I guess. You don’t have to, but if you want to stay, it’s up to you. Goodnight.”