he felt compelled to do so, but he did.
Sleep had escaped him. That in itself was not unusual. Of late he slept little, his mind unable to rest. His work drove him, and he cared for little else. Did little else. He suspected he worked so long now because it was something that merely kept him busy.
Weak as the feeling was, there was still a thrill he could eke from closing a deal. The profit meant little to him anymore, except that money did give one power. He had enough of a fortune to be omnipotent.
But he took this small moment for himself, watching the peacefulness in her—for some reason that probably bordered on sheer nonsense. He shoved away from the door and crossed the room, standing at the bedside.
Moonlight spilled through the windows by the bedstead and shone upon the pillow where her silver-blond hair fanned outward like an angel's halo. He wondered how long it had been since he'd even noticed moonlight, and if he had ever paid one single bit of attention to a woman's hair.
He reached out and touched a strand of it, and ran a finger along it, slowly. He didn't know what he had expected to feel: coolness from the icy color or smoothness from the silk of it. What he felt was the insane urge to bury his hands in it.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
She was watching him. He hid his surprise, something that was natural and instinctive. Just as feeling any emotion had, over time, become a foreign thing to him.
It wasn't often that someone could surprise him. She had.
He looked directly into her green eyes, where frank curiosity stared back at him. "You’re supposed to be asleep."
"I've never done what I was supposed to."
He leaned over a night table and picked up a glass still almost filled with a pinkish liquid. "You didn't drink the medicine."
She shook her head. "It tastes to strong. Have you tasted that?"
"Laudanum? No."
"Lucky you."
The physician left orders.
"Let him drink it."
"I see." He set the glass down. "A rebel."
"More of a disaster, I think. That's why I'm in this fix."
He searched her face, trying to decide why she would admit something like that to him, a stranger. She didn't look like a fallen woman.
"Doing what is expected is so, so...I don't know." Her expression told him she had trouble finding the right word. Finally she gave a small sigh and looked up.
"Boring?"
"Yes! That's it exactly! It would have been extremely boring, for example, if I had slept through your visit." She sat up slowly. " Then we wouldn't be having this little chat."
"You would have never known I was here."
"True. But you would have known."
He didn't know what else to say, so he just watched her—this woman who would be bored by convention. He had been bored until he came into the room. Not that he cared to admit it.
"So, Mr. Stewart. What does the 'D.L.' stand for?" She reached out and grabbed another pillow, then placed it behind her and settled back for what appeared to be a long little chat.
'"Daniel Lincoln.’"
"A famous lawyer and a president."
"I hate to burst your bubble, but I was named after my two grandfathers."
"Oh. That's not nearly as romantic, is it?"
"I suppose 'Romeo' would be more to your liking."
"No," she said very quietly, looking up at him from the most sincere face he'd ever seen. "I didn't mean to make you feel badly about your name. Daniel is a perfectly wonderful name."
She actually thought she had hurt his feelings? How strange, to worry about hurting someone over something as silly as a name. He made no comment, but she didn't seem to notice. Not more than an instant later, she lifted the covers in one hand and looked under them. "What am I wearing?"
He could see her wiggle her toes beneath the covers. "A shirt."
"Yours?"
"Yes."
"It feels lovely. So soft."
"It's silk."
"Yes. Nice."
She dropped the covers and folded her hands on top of them, then looked up at him with a small smile. "Very nice."
"I need to contact your family."
"That would be impossible."
"Nothing is impossible."
"Contacting my family would be nothing short of a miracle."
He crossed his arms and watched her. "Not for me.
"Oh." A soft smile hovered around her mouth. "I see you haven't a problem with confidence.
"No, I haven't."
She gave a huge sigh and stared at her folded hands. "I don't have much confidence."
"It has been my experience that having enough money can make one confident about any