Page 43 of My Fae Lady

A lacy nightgown dropped onto the bed next to me. Look at that: House was feeling helpful all of a sudden. I picked the pale peach garment up and realized my mistake. It was a piece my mother had insisted I needed for my trousseau for my wedding night. It was not something I ever planned to wear in front of Sylvan. I flung it to the floor.

That was fine. I’d just sleep in my dress. I was tired enough that it could work.

“What do you mean you are going to sleep?” Sylvan stopped trying to climb the wall. “We’re stuck in here, remember?”

“And there is a lovely bed for me. If you stop gouging the walls, House might even make room for you on the floor.”

In a startling show of cooperation, the chest and wardrobe in the room sank into the floor, leaving a large open space.

Sylvan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at it, and then he shifted to glare at me. “I’m not sleeping on the floor in my own bedroom.”

“We have only one bed, and I am the lady, therefore I get it.”

“That argument only works if you are with a gentleman.” He flashed his fangs. “I am not one, remember?”

I crossed my arms. “I’m injured. You wouldn’t subject me to the floor after carrying me all the way back.”

“Your ankle will be no worse on the floor. But my back will be. You haven’t forgotten my injuries, have you? The scars of the wings your family ripped from my back and cursed so they couldn’t heal?”

“They can’t heal?” I asked in surprise before catching myself. I shook my head and hardened my heart. “You’ve been fine with those injuries while sleeping in a tree. You refused a cushion in the carriage. I should think you’ll be better off on the floor.”

Neither of us had noticed while we argued, but Rook Manor hadn’t stopped at clearing the room of all furniture but the bed. Sylvan opened his mouth to retort, only to realize he now stood directly against the bed, though he hadn’t taken a single step. A quick glance showed that all the walls had moved inward until there were only a few inches left between them and the bed on all sides.

And they weren’t done contracting.

With a curse, Sylvan dove onto the bed before his legs were crushed. Too tired to fight House any longer—at least tonight—I scooted over to the far side of the bed. It was large enough that we practically had to shout to talk from opposite sides. It would be fine.

“I suppose we will just have to share,” I said, pulling up the covers on my side.

“We’re getting to the bottom of the manor’s insubordination tomorrow,” Sylvan answered, which I took as agreement.

I dismissed my faelight, plunging us into darkness, and tried to get comfortable. The mattress was heavenly, the blankets perfect. And I was still in a corset with my gown tangled around my legs. Though the size of the mattress meant I couldn’t feel anything, I heard Sylvan shifting restlessly on his side of the bed too.

I could take off my dress and corset and sleep in my chemise. With the window so high up now, it was too dark in the room—bed—for even Unseelie eyes to see anything.

I sat up and tried to unbutton myself, but I didn’t have the special buttonhook I had designed to help me with fashionable clothes without a maid. Somehow I doubted House would bring it to me from my bedroom. I flopped back down, but it only took another minute before I gave in. “Sylvan, I need you to undo my buttons and laces. I can’t sleep in my gown and corset.”

I knew he wasn’t asleep yet, but he didn’t answer me at first. I crawled over to his side of the bed before he finally responded. “Why do you have clothes you can’t get out of on your own?”

I presented my back to him. “Because ladies are supposed to rely on maids. And I have plenty of clothes I can manage perfectly fine on my own—they just aren’t suitable for wearing outside the house.”

“I can’t see anything. If you don’t want me to just tear your clothes with my talons, I’ll need light.”

For a moment, I wanted to let him do it. It would be faster. More efficient. I shivered, and not from cold or fear. At which point I summoned a dim faelight over my back and reminded myself exactly how much of an ass Sylvan was.

An ass who struggled with the tiny buttons down my frock, taking far longer than a maid would have. The laces of my corset, at least, didn’t give him as much trouble. Once everything was loose enough that I’d be able to get the rest of the way out of it on my own, I held my neckline in place and looked over my shoulder. “Thank y— Are you naked?”

His chest was completely bare, the blanket covering his lower half, but enough was showing that I was certain he no longer had his trousers on. It was a tantalizing view, the merest hint of one flank, a trail of hair directly below his belly button.

And I should have been outraged, not thinking about tugging the blanket lower to follow where that hair led.

“I didn’t realize you were shy,” Sylvan taunted.

“I’m not shy.” That wasn’t the emotion I felt at all. “I simply don’t understand why you would strip when we are forced to share a bed.”

“Isn’t that what you are doing? You came over to make me help you undress!”

“But I am leaving my chemise on.”