He leaned against the other tiled wall and sighed. Boxers. That was all he usually wore. Maybe he should just stick to that because the room outside was so cold that any part of him that didn’t behave might just drop off in the icy temperature. But he wouldn’t be comfortable like that around Grace. He had a terrible feeling that in the weird space between almost sleeping and not quite he wouldn’t have any control of his thoughts or body reactions. A suit of armour would probably help. Pity the castle didn’t have any.
He rummaged through his bag and found a black T-shirt, clean boxers and then, stuck in a zip pocket, a pair of gym shorts. Baggy and mid-thigh-length. He’d obviously planned on visiting the hotel gym on his last trip and not quite managed it. He sent a silent prayer upwards. Thank goodness for being lazy.
He wiped down the mirror with the towel and brushed his teeth as his brain started whirring. What kind of pre-sleep conversation would he have with Grace? What if he snored? What if she snored? He couldn’t remember ever feeling this nervous around a woman. It was like being fourteen years old again.
He ran his fingers through his damp hair as he refused to meet his own gaze. He was being ridiculous. He was tired. That was all. That, and being back in the house again, was reviving a whole host of natural memories.
It wasn’t quite as hard as he’d thought it would be. Having Grace here certainly helped. Seeing the house so desolate and neglected-looking had been a shock. He’d left it too long. He knew that now.
But now he was here. A thought flicked through his brain. It must be after midnight by now. It must be Christmas Day. At the very least he’d have to wish Grace Merry Christmas and thank her for accompanying him. It was time to stop delaying. Time to realise his duties as a host.
He pulled open the door and was surprised by the warm air that met him. The fire had certainly taken hold. He held his breath.
All he could hear was the comfortable crackle of the fire. And something else.
The noise of deep, soft breaths. Grace was sleeping. Her hair had escaped the knot on top of her head and her dark curls were spread across the white pillowcase. Her pink flannel pyjamas were fastened unevenly, leaving a gap at the base of her pale throat.
She looked exhausted. She looked peaceful. Turned out he didn’t need to worry about pre-sleep conversation at all.
He walked over next to her and picked up his cup of now lukewarm tea. She shifted a little as his shadow fell over her and he froze. His fingers itched to reach out and brush a strand of hair away from her face. But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to do anything to disturb her. Anything to make her feel uncomfortable.
He walked back around to the other side of the bed, sitting down carefully, cringing as the bed creaked. One quick slug of the tea was enough. He shouldn’t have spent quite so long in the shower. He slid his legs under the cool duvet, his skin bristling a little. The pillows were soft, the mattress comfortable under his tired muscles. He pulled the duvet a little higher as he turned on his side to face Grace.
The bed was huge. There was plenty of space between them. There would be no reason to end up on the wrong side of the bed, or touch arms or legs accidentally. He leaned his head on his hand and watched the steady rise and fall of her chest for a few minutes.
Even fast asleep Grace was beautiful. Her lips plump and pink, her pale skin flawless. In the space of a few days she’d woken him up. Woken him up to the world he’d been sleepwalking through these past five years.
Part of him was grateful. Part of him was scared. He didn’t know what any of this meant. ‘Merry Christmas, Grace,’ he whispered as he laid his head on the pillow and went to sleep.
CHAPTER EIGHT
GRACE’S EYES FLICKERED OPEN. It took a few seconds for her to remember where she was. The bed was so comfortable. Her fingers and nose were a little chilled but everything else that was under the covers was cosy.
Her body stiffened. She’d fallen asleep last night while Finlay had been in the shower. She’d tried to stay awake, but as soon as she’d finished her tea and the heat from the fire had started permeating across the room her eyelids had grown so heavy that she couldn’t keep them open a second longer.
Her eyes flitted around the room. She’d taken the curtains down last night. She’d need to hang them back up and let them dry. Now the pale light of day was filtering through the windows she could see the pale creams and blue of the room. It was much bigger than a normal bedroom, but the size didn’t hide the most important aspect.
It was exquisite. Exactly the type of room you’d expect in a castle. The bed, tables and furniture were traditional and elegant. Cornicing on the ceiling and a dado rail around the middle of the room, with a glass chandelier hanging in the middle of the room. The two chairs next to the bed were French-style, Louis XVI, ornate with the thick padded seats covered in pale blue patterned fabric. Was it possible the rest of the castle was this beautiful? Between the dim light last night and the clouds of dust she couldn’t remember the details of the sitting room.