Chapter Twelve

A sudden rush of mirth bubbled up Ophelia's chest. She'd never seen a lofty lord so at a loss for what to do. But then, no one could guess what transpired in the intimacy of her home. And she felt very much at home in this house.

She stroked Midnight's soft fur on her lap. "Who would ever imagine that four lovely babies might put a lord on such tenterhooks?" She settled for a contained chuckle. It did not go to laugh at the father of her child with abandon, did it?

"Confinement lodge?" Ophelia exclaimed a few days later when Matilda came bearing the latest gossip doing the rounds. "But that is ridiculous."

"Yes." The Duchess of Rutherford's head moved in a disheartening nod. "The name caught on and you can hear it everywhere." Referring to the Countess's separate home.

"Doctor Archer must have made a careless comment to some lord or lady." Ophelia mused, an index on her chin. And she told the duchess of the doctor's visit the other day.

Matilda put a hand to her breast. "How thoughtless."

"But you know what?" She turned to her friend. "I do not care what anyone says." A slight shrug moved her shoulder. "I need to take care of myself and the babe on the way." She was done worrying about other people's hasty judgement.

Matilda's face lit with a bright smile. "I came to the very same conclusion not long ago."

"Wise of you, my beloved cousin." Both women moved on to more substantial subjects.

Leonard slapped his glass on the table, sloshing its untouched content. "But this is the biggest nonsense to ever roam the land!" He and his friends sat at a corner of their club, and commented on the hearsay about his and his Countess' living arrangements.

Hadrian took a swig of his brandy and produced a smirk. "You have to admit that whoever coined the epithet did it with a smart twist."

Leonard tilted his head with a hint of annoyance. "It is not at you they are laughing at."

"Come on!" Titus interjected. "Do not tell me this gibberish got to you." His amused tone did not endear him to Leonard.

The Earl raked his hair with more force than necessary. "Well, I am the one with an independent wife sending the message that I can't control her."

"In case you have not noticed, Ramsgate," Percy added. "We all have independent wives and learned to live with the exasperating hags." He and his brother by marriage exchanged a meaningful look full of meaning.

"You scoundrels must write a guide to them because I am finding it hard to cope," Leonard vented, not ashamed to disclose his feelings on the subject.

"No need to go to these lengths," Hadrian said. "You just love them the way they are."

Leonard looked at the agreeing faces and did not find a suitable retort. Now, there was the real gibberish. Love? He'd never even pronounced the word, let alone practice it.

Since his return, he'd been willing to put up with his wife's previous, say, life. He caught her trying to get married again, after all. He could not say he felt like a laughingstock with the ‘confinement lodge' thing. That was just the ton bored out of their minds looking to have fun at others' expense. But a certain bereft feeling seeped into him, unannounced and uninvited, in the face of her absence. While soused, he'd made a fool of himself by begging her not to leave. Based on their past, though, she chose to go. There would be no talking if he'd been the one to ensconce her in the country and get on with his life. The gossip mongers must have sniffed that not to be the case, hence the ridiculous epithet—a sure sign of the unfair treatment that society dished to ladies. Let them have a little fun for a while. It would die out soon enough. As for his state of mind, that might offer more challenges.

He lent a distracted ear to his friends' chat until he took his leave without having touched his drink. The last time he indulged built unpleasant memories, so he preferred to go slow with the imbibing.

"Mrs Sarah Crawley comes highly recommended, my lady." At Ophelia's request, Emily Slater had brought the midwife with her as a suggestion for their care team. "But she lives in the country and needs to travel back and forth to attend to you."

"That would not be a problem to me, Lady Ramsgate." The middle-aged woman with red cheeks had an air of competence about her. "Unless it is not convenient to you, my lady."

Lady Ramsgate received both women in her drawing room and called for tea. "Not at all," she answered. "Are you in the middle of any pressing duties right now?"

Mrs Crawley shrugged. "At the moment, everything is quite calm in my village."

Ophelia drew a small smile. "You could come and live here until the babe is due. I will pay for your trouble."

Sarah and Emily exchanged a glance, and the latter gave a brief nod. "That is kind of you." Sarah accepted the duty at hand.

"We are all set, then." The countess felt safer with a midwife in residence. "I will ask the housekeeper to prepare you a room close to mine."

"And how are you faring, my lady?" Emily asked.

"In excellent good health, thank you." Ophelia opened a frank smile. "Your advice to tackle morning sickness was spot on."

"Always glad to help." Emily smiled back.

As the women left, Ophelia released a sigh of satisfaction. Everything seemed to go as planned, and she felt overjoyed for her condition and the life she led these days. The doctor and Mrs Slater came to check on her often.

"Lord Ramsgate to see you, my lady," the butler's voice interrupted her needlework as she sat in her drawing room hours later. Here was another person who checked on her often. Too often for comfort.

Much as she preferred him not to be so … present, she could not deny him access to the progress of her pregnancy. So, stifling a sigh, she nodded her acceptance of his visit.

He strode into the room in all his dark blue magnificence to dazzle her to such a point that she did not notice the butler bowing and closing the door. But she did notice that enclosed here, he filled the air with the usual magnetism she found it hard to get used to.

"Wife," he rumbled as he gave a curt nod.

She confined the allure of him to a corner of her mind as she tilted her head. "You visited just yesterday, Lord Ramsgate. Nothing has changed in my condition since." The use of his title almost choked her. They had been naked in bed more times than she could count by now. And in those steamy nights—or afternoons, or mornings; any hour of the day, really—she'd screamed his given name more times than she could count—on each occasion.

Darn it all!

The memories flooded her mind just as heat flooded her cheeks, and other spots, to be honest. Which led her to make a show of resting her needlework on her lap. When she risked a glance at him, it was to detect a knowing glint in his dark eyes.

She would not admit even to her kittens that she'd been missing snuggling with him in the dark. However, she imagined that this feeling of bereavement did not deserve her time of day, given the greater good she was working to achieve.

His motionless body as he stood in the centre seemed to be thrumming with a restless energy. Several seconds elapsed before he spread his arms. "Are you not inviting me to sit?"

The will to say no and get this over with as soon as she could almost overwhelmed her. Yet they'd signed an agreement, and she had to stick to it. "Of course." And motioned to an armchair on the opposite side. "Please, take a seat." If she shielded herself with formality, she might succeed in enduring his presence.

Her gaze followed him as he sat, not opposite her, even if on the same settee. It proved too small for them, a conspiracy of her wide skirts and his broad frame. The piece of furniture all but glued them in close quarters. Her skin registered the heat emanating from him with the spice scent he favoured.

His body turned to her, causing his long lags to invade her personal space. They did not touch, but his mere proximity induced her body to respond to it. By accelerating her heart, for example.

"As for your welcoming comment," he eyed her with all his lineage of eight generations of earls. "I will be as close as I can to my family."

"Hm." She did not hide the drop of sarcasm from the sound she released. "You did not strike me as a family man until very recently."

His torso inclined towards her. "There are many things you might wish to learn about me."

She'd not planned for the little scoff to escape her. It did, though. Big deal. "You mean, know each other better?"

A shrug moved his broad right shoulder. "Something like that."

"And what happens when king and country call upon you?" The years she lived alone, just like a widow, compelled her to utter the question. Getting too close to him would endanger her hard-earned peace of mind, a state she preferred not to jeopardise.

"Let us cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?"

She eyed him with a healthy dose of suspicion. "I have crossed many bridges since you left." Her hands squeezed the knitting she'd been working on as he arrived. "It was quite enough." She forced herself to release the piece and relax her muscles. "If it is all the same for you, I choose to pass on this one."

A large hand raked his hair. "Fine," he said after a lengthy while. Without preamble, he unfurled from the settee to tower over her. "Since I found you in good health, I will take my leave."

"Your concern is touching." And she did not disguise the sarcasm in it.

He bowed and exited the drawing room as though he'd never even entered it.

As the days went by, she saw little of him. After his frequent visits, she felt his absence with a reluctant acuteness. The temptation to reconsider the state of her marriage popped into her mind more times than she felt comfortable to admit. She shunned the notion every time it arose. And she realised that he'd got under her skin with effortless speed.

But something else also occurred to her. That she'd chosen to pave a lone path. And she could not avoid feeling that she isolated herself for the sake of security. The inevitable sight of Leonard made her question whether she made a sound decision. When he left, she struggled to convince her stirred mind and body that she did the right thing. With each visit, his very nearness challenged it. And she found it more and more difficult to continue thinking that way.

She pressed her lips as one dainty hand lined her cheek. Time would prove her right; she harboured no doubt about it.

In the middle of the night, Ophelia awoke for no apparent reason. Her eyes darted to the drapes, where total darkness prevailed. The kittens slept scattered over the blankets in abandoned snugness. The silence of the night trickled into the chamber to condone repose.

And then she registered where the discomfort originated. A vague sensation of wetness came from between her legs. Alarmed, she sat up and threw the covers away as she lit a candle. Frantic hands bunched her nightgown, below which blood pooled.

"Ann!" She cared not that she almost hollered.

Dishevelled and startled, the lady's maid rushed into the bedchamber from the one she occupied by the dressing chamber. The woman had no chance of saying a word.

"Call Mrs Crawley and Mrs Slater." At Ann's wide-eyed hesitation, she added, "Now!"

Her heart raced in uneven gallops, beads of sweat sprouting all over her skin. In quick puffs of breath, she lowered her head again, wishing she'd made a mistake, but no, the blood still moistened her gown and the linen.

Autumn, Winter, Midnight, and Drizzle sensed the unrest and awoke. They must have smelled the blood because they mewled loudly.

Sarah entered the room with a shawl wrapped over her simple nightgown. "What is it, my lady."

"I am bleeding." Ophelia's contorted features reflected her apprehension.

"I already sent a footman to Mrs Slater's house." The lady's maid informed.

"Thank you," Ophelia said. The Countess needed to ascertain the facts before sending for her husband.

"Ann," Sarah called. "Could you, please, bring hot water and linens?" In a level voice, she acted with calm and focus.

"Of course." And disappeared again through the entrance.

The commotion caused the kittens to go into hiding.

Nearing the bed, the midwife rested a hand on Ophelia's shoulder. "The most important now, my lady, is to keep your wits about you. Are you in pain?"

Her touch and tone produced the intended effect, and Ophelia lay down with a deep exhale. "No." She sent a worried look at the other women. "Am I going to miscarry?"

"Some bleeding during pregnancy is not unheard of," Sarah replied as she handled the lady's clothes with care. "After I clean the blood, I can have a better look."

While Mrs Crawley went about her work, Mrs Slater entered the chamber. "My lady," she did not forget the curtsy. "Ann told me what happened."

Sarah turned to the door. "Oh, Emily, good that you are here." And made way for the apothecary. "Come and see. The bleeding stopped before I cleaned the spot."

"A positive sign," Emily commented. Then looked at Ophelia. "We will pad you with clean linens to prevent it from soiling your clothes and we can observe how it goes." Meanwhile, Ann brought a fresh nightgown for the lady to change.

She thanked them and allowed them to do their job.

"The best to do now is to take complete rest," Sarah advised.

"I can give you valerian to help you sleep. Would you like that?" Emily asked.

Ophelia did not have time to answer as her esteemed husband burst through the chamber as though the house belonged to him. She wished that these butlers stopped their gossipmongering.

The midwife's quick hands covered the lady in the man's presence.

"I came as soon as I got word," he informed. His falcon's eyes flew to her with what she interpreted as a distraught hue.

Why was she not surprised at his presence here? And she was even less so when Doctor Archer followed inside. Mrs Crowley and Mrs Slater hastened to relay the case to him.

"My lord," Archer began. "I would recommend bloodletting to prevent future complications."

My lord? She was the one with child and the one who should make decisions about her body!

Mrs Crowley's hand twisted at her front; brows pleated. "If you allow my opinion, Doctor," she started. "I do not think it beneficial to extract even more blood when she already lost some."

"It's stopped, and she is well now," Emily joined in.

"Doctor Archer." Ophelia employed her most commanding voice, the one she used when she took the earldom's assets under her management. The doctor's bland blue eyes snapped to her. "I am in very good hands here." She faced him head-on. "I feel restored, and I refuse bloodletting." This she delivered in a categoric tone.

Dismissing her, Darren turned to the Earl. "My lord…"

"The lady has spoken, Archer." Haughtiness shot through the Earl's speech. "We will leave it at that for now."

"As you wish," the doctor demurred. As he noticed that his presence became superfluous, Darren bowed to the noble couple and made his timely retreat.

This left Sarah, Emily, and Ann standing in a corner waiting for the lady's word.

"I understand that Mrs Crowley has taken up residence here," Leonard spoke as the silence stretched.

"I did, my lord."

"Right," he resumed. "You and Ann can go back to your deserved repose." His gaze shifted to the apothecary. "Mrs Slater, my carriage will return you to your house." The three women curtsied.

"I am lucky I have the three of you by my side," Ophelia said by way of goodnight, extracting loyal smiles from the other women.

The caretakers exited and closed the door behind them.

Stillness filled the room like smoke. And like smoke, it made Ophelia's mind hazy. She lost the same blood as she would in her menses, so she could not even use this as an excuse for her state of mind.

"So, you resorted to spying on me." Her grave accusation caused his head to swivel at her.

His hands hung on his hips, his jaw angling up. "It is not spying if you are my wife, who is carrying my heir."

"Oh, yes, the Pater Familias balderdash gives you a convenient cover." She laced her hands on her midriff as she faced him full-on. "I still call it spying."

"I have worked with the Foreign Office, so no news there." His brows arched, daring her to counter him.

Her lips pursed to one side. "It so happens that I am not one of your missions."

"Exactly." His lopsided grin looked rather triumphant. "And that is why you are coming back with me to Ramsgate House first thing."

The inevitability with which she'd walked into it spread vexation in her. "Do I have a choice?"

One large shoulder moved up and down. "Not at this point, no."

A deep intake of air preceded her words. "Fine. I need to go back to sleep." She fluffed her pillows and lay down. The rush of adrenalin must have worn out because deep tiredness fell upon her. "Please, close the door on your way out, will you?" And sank into instant slumber.

Because of that, she did not see him taking a chair and sitting by her bed.

Leonard watched as dawn lit his wife's face. Her honey-blonde hair escaped her braid and caught the faint light framing her delicate face. As the light increased, her flawless skin seemed less pale, her high cheekbones and aristocratic little nose acquired a fairy hue. He found it impossible to take his eyes off her.

The minute he received the note alerting him of this incident, his world had gone to rubble. A cynic would jeer him, saying that his only concern had been his heir. But that was not true. The image of Ophelia's life seeping out of her almost drove him to madness. He'd managed to keep his wits about him because he would need them to make the right decisions.

Upon hearing of it, he'd applauded her foresight of having a live-in midwife. It signalled to him that she cared for their child. Still, having her away from him had not sat well, and now he knew why. It became harder and harder to deny that losing her would carve a hole in his life. There could be other children, but not another Ophelia, ever. She was unique, and he concluded that he very much planned to keep her close for as long as possible, agreement or no agreement.

Yes, he would prove her right not to trust him. At that precise moment, he could not care less.

A faint mew announced Autumn as he leapt on his lap. The furry creature rubbed his whiskers on his arm, prompting him to pet its spine. At some point during the night, her four-legged guardians returned to inspect their benefactress by sniffing every inch of her. They only settled when they saw that everything appeared unchanged.

"She will be well, little boy," he rumbled as he scratched behind a velvety ear.

Sensing the change in light, the other three also awoke and stretched in varied ways. In soft steps, they neared Ophelia. Drizzle extended a front paw and caressed her hair. Midnight lowered himself close to her heart. And Winter kneaded her thigh. At the sight of the other three, Autumn jumped to the bed and joined the others in their morning ritual by nestling close to her spine.

Leonard watched as Ophelia yawned and moved her hand to stroke the nearest kitten.

"Already awake, my sweeties?" The sound of her voice caused them to direct their whole attention to her. "You will get your breakfast soon." Then she sighed in contentment.

It told him she had recovered, and it filled him with a beam brighter than the sun outside.

"And so will you," he said, to make his presence known.

Her head pivoted to him, her eyes darting to an obvious message of not welcoming him. "What in the blazes are you doing here?" With the motion, her hair fell to her front.

He made a show of tilting his head and arching his brow. "Caring for you; what else?"

An impatient hand wiped honey-blonde hair from her forehead. "You were supposed to leave after all your spying!"

He chose to ignore her quip in favour of more pressing matters. "How are you feeling this morning?"

Those luminous eyes blinked in quick succession. Leonard loathed himself for the surprise on her face. She did not expect him to be there for her.

The hazel gaze roamed around her as though to check her symptoms. It rose to him with a pinch of relief. "Quite healthy, if you must know."

"Glad to hear it," he pronounced the platitude with equal relief. He did not smile, but he felt sure his eyes did. "I will call for a tray for you."

Careful not to hurt her companions, she sat up. "If you do not mind, I need a bath first. Then I will go down for breakfast."

He gave a curt nod. "I will ring for Ann." And excused himself to leave her to it.

"Are your horses still learning how to walk?" Ophelia asked as they slugged their way from her townhouse to his, no more than three blocks away. On foot, she would already have arrived ages ago.

The Earl sat across from her while Sarah sat by her side, ready to offer any assistance if necessary.

"Both Mrs Crowley here and Mrs Slater advised the slowing of your activities." He plastered a pleasant grin on that sensuous mouth of his. "I am just following their instructions." The midwife dipped her chin to him in approval.

Which made her think that, with some luck, they might arrive for dinner.

Emotional and physical weariness had her falling fast asleep after the midnight scare. The moment Sarah and Emily declared her out of danger, all the tension fled from her body, leaving undiluted exhaustion the likes of which she'd never felt. Certain that her husband would give her some reprieve and return only the next morning, she yielded to her need for sleep.

Like every morning, her furry companions snuggled into her, gifting her with a cheerful start to the day. His deep rasp today, though, had coloured her morning with sharp and deep hues. Ones that she would not forget in haste, she feared.

The notion that he'd spent the night on that chair watching over her caused stupefaction and endearment in conflicting measures. She could not tell which won over the other, a worrisome bother if anyone asked her. More than that, his presence made her feel safe and in excellent hands, never mind her mistrust of him.

Drat!

And now she sat in his carriage doing his bidding to return to his townhouse.

Double drat!

And if she told a soul that she did not wish to do it, she would be lying. And let no soul on this earth learn of this.

Unwilling to give it more thought—or a triple drat at that—she turned to the slow-passing scenery outside the window; t he very opposite of what happened inside her frantic mind.

"My lady, allow me to carry your portmanteau," Sarah broke into her thoughts as she realised that they'd arrived at last.

She thanked the midwife and noticed that the Earl had already alit to wait for her. A little reluctantly, she accepted his help and took the arm he offered.

"Welcome back, my lady," a gladder than usual, Knott greeted as the Earl and Countess crossed the threshold. No mystery as to what the servants thought of her precious show of independence.

Before she could step on the stairs, Leonard swept her into his arms. At her vexed look, he drew a smirk. "Repose, remember?" And climbed up as though she weighed nothing more than feathers. That would change in a few short weeks. Embarrassment for her rather smug thought made not an appearance.

The feel of his unforgiving muscles revived her memories of their passionate exploits, however. Even in her condition, her body reacted to him and the memories. She schooled herself not to show how he affected her, though she could not be sure of the success of that.

But when he gained his bedchamber rather than hers, she refused to be quiet. "I have my chambers if memory serves."

He placed her feet on the carpet with the utmost care. "You did." A pause. "Once." Then spread an arm to encompass the vast expanse of his quarters. "This one is quite enough for the both of us." His other arm held her waist with undisguised possessiveness. "From now on, I will be a part of everything that happens to you."

Ophelia gave an inner scoff. As turned tables went, he'd done a spectacular job of it. The man was not about to take chances with his heir, not after last night.

He did not wait for any servant to come before he turned the covers. "All you have to do is take it easy." He motioned for her to take her place in the enormous bed.

With no other choice than to follow the sensible path, she sat on the mattress and took off the slippers she wore to arrive here. When he left her to her own devices, she would call Ann to help her with something more comfortable.

Early in the evening, Ophelia sat in the bed wrapped in a nightgown and a lacy robe, wondering if she should call for a tray with dinner, having just finished a letter to her cousin. She'd spent the day reading, chatting with Ann and Sarah, and writing to her friends.

She was about to ring for Knott when the chamber threshold burst open for a file of footmen to enter carrying several silver platters. Behind them came her husband with a lopsided grin plastered to his rugged face. His eyes met hers as the servants arranged the food on a nearby table, together with the silverware and china.

"Thank you," he addressed the footmen. "I will take it from here." They bowed and closed the door as they left.

"You are becoming a master in making grand entrances, husband," Ophelia commented to dispel the impact he always had on her. Even more, as he dressed in shirtsleeves, with only the waistcoat, no cravat, his neckline agape to hint at the dark whorls beneath. The vivid remembrance of how it felt to skim her fingers over them almost distracted her from the dinner.

His dark head swivelled to her. "And you, wife, have been giving me countless occasions to perfect such skills." She did not hide the amused chuckle that surfaced on her lips. It attracted his gaze to them with the predictable tingling effect. "Shall we?" he invited as he offered his hand.

Ophelia put aside the coverlet spread over her legs to take his hand. Self-consciousness did not bother her at not being in a dress. Her voluminous robe over the nightgown gave next to nothing away, though she felt much freer without a corset.

They sat facing each other at a table that did not boast big measurements. With the fire in the fireplace and the silver candle holders between them, the atmosphere turned intimate suddenly.

Ophelia busied herself with the food in the hopes of not allowing her surroundings to undermine her.

"I trust you returned to your good health." Leonard's deep tones had her head lifting to him.

She nodded in agreement. "I feel lucky that it was not a serious matter."

He rumbled an assent. "And taking it easy will make it less likely to repeat."

Ophelia took a sip of water. "I fear I will get bored out of my mind with so much sitting around."

A lopsided grin drew his mouth. "Were it me, I would go mad." He tilted his head. "But needs must." That he expressed a flaw with such naturalness bloomed a certain admiration in her. Few men in her acquaintance were prepared to show their imperfections.

"You will hear no complaints from me," she added, as both exchanged a smile of accord.

For long minutes, they concentrated on their plate. As the meal drew to its end, he filled his glass with wine and hers with water. The glasses sat on the table while he stretched his arm on the tablecloth and skewered her with a direct look.

"I do not blame you, I should say," he said at last.

Her brows pleated, her hands joining at the table's edge. "For what?"

"For seeking company in the years I was away." His shoulder moved up and down as though he felt a drop of awkwardness for bringing up the subject.

Embarrassment made her cheeks flush. Her eyes lowered to her hands, unsure of what to reply. "People are eager to gossip." Her chin tilted up, her gaze meeting his head on. "But none of it reflected reality."

One masculine brow flicked up. "Am I to understand that you took no paramours?"

That made her eyes burn on him. "I did not." She remembered he caught her trying to get married again even if she gave a damn whether he believed her. "But I wish I did." Ophelia pressed her lips, annoyed at letting out her most hidden thoughts.

His brows arched to the top of his forehead. "I can't say I am surprised."

"I would have felt less lonely," she answered his unuttered question.

He took a large swig of his wine. Good for him he could drink because that conversation made her crave a glassful of whisky. "I wonder what stopped you."

"At the end of the day, I'd said vows." A self-deriding smirk pulled her lips. "Convenient for men and their precious progeny, I know. But still…" With or without a choice, she'd accepted the rules, too young and inexperienced for anything else.

"And yet, you sought the solitude of your townhouse." He exposed the contradiction of her having felt lonely in the past.

"Life teaches us hard lessons." Her quip tore open her cynicism at the disappointments of the restricted life society forced ladies to swallow.

Late in the evening, Ophelia lay in the huge bed munching on the day's events. Strange as it might seem, she did not feel vexed about returning here. With her husband around, she had to admit that she felt rather safer. With some luck, the gossipmongers would spread something positive on the subject, though they could go hang for all she cared.

A sigh escaped her as she burrowed further into the fluffy pillows. But what crowded her mind at that moment was their conversation over dinner. Such candidness between husband and wife had been an unfamiliar idea for her. Of course, only now in her marriage were she and the Earl living in close quarters. Even more so now that she resided in his bedchamber, empty for now as he'd excused himself to see to business in his study. She did not begrudge this married couple's affair, new as it appeared. She saw with crystal clearness that their talk served to clean up the remaining clutter between them. Not that she felt prepared to open up to their marriage without reservations. Far from it. She understood, however, that their good relations would be much recommendable to a child. That alone afforded her some comfort.

Her eyes followed the blink in the side-table lamp, a little smile forming on her face. It did things to her that he evidenced worry about her and the baby, leaving no doubt that he cared. His concern eased her sense of loneliness, even if she did not wish to trust him. She would not be that foolish again, for sure.

A clicking noise came from the dressing room. Ophelia swivelled her head to see Leonard nearing the bed in his pajamas . Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him so magnificent in the Indian attire. It suited him all too well.

He'd been unceremonious about their new sleeping arrangements. Even so, goosebumps erupted over her skin at his impending proximity.

"Still awake?" he muttered as he pulled the covers.

"Did little to get tired now, did I?" She moved to lie on her back.

He covered himself. "And it will be so until the experts give you leave for more."

She canted her head with a winning grin. "Glad to see you accept all their notions."

"Hm, the more, the better, I suppose." He came close and wrapped a muscled arm around her.

Her nostrils flared with his scent of man and cumin. But when he buried his face in the curve of her neck, a sense of tranquillity befell her, the nerves letting go.

"Sleep now, wife," he drawled. "You need your rest."

As if he'd intoned a magical formula, her mind shut down together with her eyes and body.

Where did all this sleep come from, for pity's sake?

Unconscious in slumber, her frame rolled to him, an arm holding his taut muscles.