Your Darkest Dream (Blackwood & Friends #2)

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Nate woke to something cold and wet snuffling his ear.

He groaned incoherently as he flicked Penelope away from his face and that realisation alone startled him fully alert.

He'd fallen asleep.

He'd fallen asleep on a pastel pink coverlet in a distinctly feminine room awash with scents of vanilla and honeycomb while Blanche dosed on in his arms, her face pressed against his chest. A sigh escaped him while he adjusted to the dimness in her chambers, a quick glance at the glass doors on the other side of the room indicating the grey light of dawn beginning to fill the sky. It was already later than he had intended to stay asleep for, let alone in her bed.

Nate made a quick summation, estimated that at least four hours had passed since they had fallen asleep, possibly five. It was the most undisturbed sleep he had been allotted in several months. He rubbed his eyes while the lingering traces of bleariness still clung to them before he tilted back slightly to study the woman in his arms.

Blanche was curled into a tight ball, her knees almost tucked into her chest. One hand she had slid under her cheek that was pressed against the bulge of muscle in his upper arm, the other pressed against the centre of his chest. Her hair was sprayed out on the pillow behind and beside her, some of it had latched onto his arm and hand as he curled his fingers around her waist. Her lashes were dark and shadowed her softly rounded cheeks while she slept, her breathing deep and even. A sheen developed on her skin which was slightly flushed and he realised that it was rather hot, the places were their bodies were touching clammy and slick with their combined heat. He held, it seemed, a small furnace.

Surprisingly, he found himself averse to leaving her. He was enjoying simply holding her, the familiarity of their embrace, the closeness they had shared in the past few hours. Somehow, his need of Blanche had transcended from the mere physicality of her to something more. He wanted to hold her like this for hours while she slept, nuzzle the silken hair atop her head, stroke and touch her endlessly. It had been years since he had woken up beside a woman and he could not remember finding the experience as pleasant as this.

He did, however, have to prepare for the day ahead and so did she, especially before the household began to stir. Or worse, his body to her nearness... as if he hadn't been hard from the moment he had awoken.

Nate shifted against her, bringing his hand to settle over the side of her face to brush wayward dark curls from her cheek, before wandering over the top of her bare shoulder to cover the bruises at the top of her arm. Anger surged through him once more at the sight of them, a wave of protectiveness so fierce he almost trembled with it. Rawdon would be a dead man if it weren't for Blanche- the earl probably owed her his life, though little did he know it. Nate had not felt the sort of rage that had overtook him at the sight of Blanche yesterday since the day his father died, her eyes huge and terrified, with those red welts blooming against her skin like an ugly blemish of the action that had caused it. Christ, she was so unbelievably courageous- the secrets she had held close for over a month, enduring her pains alone, her clever little machinations that she had put in place. Alone. His arms tightened instinctively around her.

He brushed his lips against her forehead, flexing his finger gently into her waist. He wanted to murmur her name, to ease her awake, and he opened his lips against her damp skin-

"Blanche!" Nicola's voice was followed by three resounding knocks on the other side of the door, then the handle jiggled. "Open up, sleepyhead!"

The woman in his arms jerked awake suddenly with a gasp, her legs uncurling and coming dangerously close to unmanning him in the process. Wide, silver eyes met his briefly and then she lurched upright. "Go, go!" Blanche hissed, pushing his shoulders violently until he rolled onto his back.