Page 15 of An Ill-Made Match

He gave a sigh, and to her alarm, the bed lurched. As she tensed, she realized Roland was climbing out.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable,” he said irritably.

The moon drifted again, and she saw he was still fully clothed too. Something he was swiftly remedying by stripping down to his own under garments.

Eden screwed her eyes shut in alarm, turning her head sharply.

“We were both naked as babes this morn,” he reminded her, obviously aware of her discomfort.

“Do not speak of it! Do not think of it, even!” she implored him.

He huffed out a breath, and she felt the blankets lift. Now he was climbing under the covers, she realized with horror. Eden lay rigid.

“Relax,” he told her. “You’re wholly resistible. I’m not about to force myself onto you.”

She took a deep breath. Of course. She fell far short of his standards regarding women. She expelled a relieved breath. “Are you going back to sleep?” she asked after a moment or two of tense silence.

“Why? What are you offering?”

“I just thought we should have some discussion,” said Eden, turning her face on the pillow to face him. The moon had appeared again, shining bright. Roland was alarmingly close. And his chest was bare. Eden tried not to stare at the smattering of dark hair on that muscular expanse of tanned skin. Even so, she was sure her eyes were wide.

“I’m listening,” his voice sounded a little thick. Maybe he was tired, she thought distractedly, though when her gaze darted to his, he looked alert enough. He propped himself up on one elbow.

She wished he wouldn’t do that. In an effort to be on the same level, she struggled into a seated position facing him. Noticing the direction of his gaze, she hurriedly pulled the blankets up and over her chest. Her shift was made of the very finest linen and was quite thin. Though why Roland Vawdrey should have any interest in her bosom was beyond her. She was quite sure it was nothing special. Still, it was practically in his face, she conceded. And everyone knew men were base creatures when it came to the flesh.

He looked away a little guiltily and cleared his throat. “Let’s hear it then,” he said huskily.

Eden eyed him suspiciously. It dawned on her that he was probably remembering that very morning when she had woken sprawled on top of him. His hands had been in such shameful places that she felt herself turn scarlet. “I want you to stop thinking about that, Roland Vawdrey!” she whispered primly.

“I told you, I can’t even remember it,” he retorted, sounding indignant.

“You remember where your hands were, I suppose,” she snapped. “When we awoke!”

His gaze darkened. “Aye,” he said hoarsely.

“Well…” said Eden lamely. She had thought he’d have the decency to deny it! “I want you to forget all about it!”

He snorted. “I’ll forget it alright. When you give me something better to remember, wife.”

Eden gasped. “Don’t call me that. Why are you making everything so hard?”

A strange look passed over his face. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said shifting about under the sheet. “Though I doubt very much you’d know the answer!” Eden regarded him suspiciously. He groaned. “Just say what you need to say, Eden.”

“Very well, I will,” she said with dignity. “What I have to say is this. We have, one way or another, ended up in this predicament.” She gulped and plucked at the bedsheet. When she looked back up, he was watching her closely, though he uttered not a word. “The only sensible thing we can do now is find a way to make this situation bearable, with as little disruption to our daily lives as possible.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “Would you agree?”

He tipped his head to one side. “That doesn’t sound very realistic. There’s bound to be disruption.”

“Why? Think about it,” she urged him. “We both have so much to occupy our time already at court. Why need we let this… this fleeting lapse of judgement, ruin the lives we have so carefully carved out for ourselves?” He frowned. Before he could give voice to his disagreement, she placed a palm on his chest. “Think about it first, Sir Roland,” she said imploringly, though in truth, she wished she sounded slightly less breathless. His chest felt warm and naked. She pulled her hand back, but he had caught hold of it by the wrist before she could withdraw altogether.

“Just call me Roland,” he said in a rough voice. He closed his eyes briefly and cursed. When they fluttered open again, she was startled by the expression they held. Turning his face away with a muttered oath, he released her hand and she quickly placed it on the mattress beside her, out of harm’s way.

Truly, men were slaves to their physical impulses, she marveled. Her proximity alone was enough for him to let his precious standards slip! “The fact remains,” said Eden a little squeakily. “That we need a strategy to tackle this…”

“Marriage?” supplied Roland gruffly.

“Peculiar set of circumstances,” Eden carried on painstakingly. “You must agree?”