Chapter 23: Morning After

I woke in my own bed with the sun on the quilt and a man's arm across my waist.

For a moment I lay still, in case I was dreaming it.

His breath moved the hair on the back of my neck.

His knees were folded behind mine, and his hand lay open on my belly.

He had stayed.

The window was pale gold, and downstairs a cupboard banged, and I heard the cook humming.

I turned over carefully.

Ward's eyes were open.

He was watching me, with the grey in his hair bright in the morning light and the crease between his brows smoothed out.

"You've been awake," I said.

"A while."

"Why didn't you wake me?"

"I was looking."

I put my hand against his jaw and felt the rough stubble.

"What's it like?"

"What?"

"Staying."

He thought about it, as he thought about everything.

"Quiet," he said. "I keep waiting to hear my boots going out the door."

"And?"

"They're not."

I moved closer, and he gathered me against him.

He was warm all down his length.

I tucked my face under his chin, and we lay there, my leg over his, his hand moving slowly in my hair, with nothing to do and nothing to hurry for.

After a while I felt him smile against the top of my head.

"The hands will be at the table," he said. "They'll see me come down."

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