beside the bed so he could lean back against it. ‘At least it took your mind off the storm.’
‘Yes. And I did tell you my life story, so I suppose I was expecting something in return. We also saved each other’s lives.’
There was silence, apart from the crackle of the stove and the now faraway thunder.
‘She threw me over for my older brother,’ he said. ‘You’re right. She’s not worth it. But she—’ He broke off. ‘My brother is another matter, and one day he’ll get his come-uppance.’ He took a sip of coffee. ‘Just a matter of finding the right lever.’
Bridget stared at his profile, her eyes wide and horrified—it looked as if it was carved in stone. She swallowed and said the only thing she could think of. ‘You’re hot on levers, aren’t you?’ Then, ‘I don’t think that’s a very good idea. Much better for you to move on and—’
‘Leave it, Bridget,’ he warned, and flicked her a moody blue glance. ‘Finish your coffee.’
‘OK, I’m sorry,’ she said contritely, and drank her coffee in silence.
He took the cup from her and placed it along with his on a ledge beside the bed. Then he climbed back in and took her in his arms again. ‘Go to sleep,’ he said, not unkindly.
Bridget relaxed and thought how good it felt. How reassuring, how warm and comfortable and natural, and she started to doze off.
Adam, on the other hand, found himself watching her in the firelight and wondering what it was about this girl that had prompted him to tell her things he’d never told anyone else.
Because she was entirely unthreatening? Because she had no idea who he was? Yes, but there was more to it than that. Rather, there was more to his feelings on the subject of Bridget Smith, spinster, he thought wryly.
He felt protective of her, and he had to admire the way she’d slogged through everything nature had thrown at them, but, again, there was more.
As he watched her, he found himself wondering what it would be like to make love to her. To part those pretty pink lips that were twitching a little as she dozed—what was she dreaming of?—and kiss her. What expressions would chase through her green eyes if he, very slowly and gently, initiated her into the pleasures of sex and wiped out the memories some oaf had left her with?
It would be no penance, he realised, and he felt his body stir. It would be the opposite. She felt as if she’d been made to fit into his arms, as if that tender little body should be his property…
Then her eyelashes lifted, taking him by surprise, and for a long frozen moment they stared into each other’s eyes. He held his breath as the expression in those green eyes became an incredulous query, as if she’d divined his thoughts.
But it was gone almost immediately, that expression, dismissed with the faintest shake of her head, as if she’d banished it to the realm of the impossible or as if it was a dream, and she fell asleep again.
He released his breath slowly and smiled dryly.
No, it would not be impossible, Bridget Smith, he thought, and nor was it a dream. But it was not going to happen. For a whole host of reasons.
He lay for a while, listening to the rain on the roof, deliberately concentrating on it, and on the fact that it seemed to be getting lighter. But in fact the night hadn’t finished with them…
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