the door behind him, Matilda spun around and faced Sullivan.
He held up a hand to stave off her concern. “It was the only room. We have no other choice.”
Her face paled even more. Still, rain dripped from her hair into her eyes. “You expect me to sleep in the same bed as you?”
He suppressed a sigh. Naturally, she assumed the worst—that he was a cad who would take advantage of the circumstance. Naturally, she was horrified by the idea of spending even a moment longer in his company than necessary.
He knew she despised him. He’d made peace with that fact years ago, but frankly sometimes her ire brought out the worst in him.
“Of course not, Freckles,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll make you a nice pallet on the floor by the fire.”
“Of all the boorish men, I would have to be stranded with you!”
“I think I’ve been fairly hospitable.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I could have left you in that carriage to endure the storm. Alone.”
She tilted her chin up, reclaiming some of her usual aloofness. “Yet you intend to make me sleep on the floor?”
“I didn’t think you’d be interested in cuddling in the bed with me. But perhaps I’m wrong…”
“I most certainly am not!” Her hand went to her throat.
He laughed, wishing it didn’t sound quite so bitter. Wishing she didn’t sound quite so horrified by the idea of his touch.
“Freckles, relax, I’m jesting with you. I’ll sleep on the floor. You have the bed.”
She opened and closed her mouth several times.
“Why don’t you get out of your wet clothes? You can drape them over that chair by the fire. They should dry by morning.” He pulled the chair so it sat closer to the heat of the fire. “I’ll go downstairs and see if I can find us some food.”
“Before you go…” She paused and he eyed her. She visibly swallowed. “I’ll need your assistance with something.”
He nodded.
She walked over to him, then turned and gave him her back. “Can you undo these buttons? I won’t be able to reach them all.”
Damnation. His eyes trailed the length of the tiny buttons down the length of her back. The bared skin of her neck tantalized him, tempting him to lean forward and press his lips to her pale skin. His mouth went dry, though that was foolish. He’d seen plenty of women without their clothes, had undressed several himself. This was nothing. Nothing except chaste Matilda with her paler than pale skin scattered with multitudes of freckles, like constellations across her body begging to be mapped out. He’d often wondered if they covered the entirety of her. They covered her face, her neck and throat, and what little he’d seen of her shoulders, arms, and chest when she’d worn fashionable low-cut gowns to balls.
He’d always been mesmerized by those freckles, and despite the fact that she so clearly hated him, he had fantasized more than once about tracing those sweet spots with his finger…or his tongue. His trousers grew too tight as a certain part of him swelled with his imaginings. He steeled himself with a fortifying breath and narrowed his gaze. He would not look at her skin, instead he’d keep his eyes locked on the material of her soaked dress.
What was wrong with him that he found her so physically attractive when she despised him so?
He quickly unfastened the buttons, resisting the urge to spread the fabric of her gown, or lean forward and place a kiss against the base of her neck where a few brown curls had escaped her chignon. He ignored the sweet smell coming from her skin and stepped away from her.
“All done. I’ll be back.”
She frowned but said nothing else as he turned and left her alone in the room. Tonight wasn’t going to be comfortable by any standards. He’d have to sleep on the cold floor with an erection he couldn’t do anything about.
…
Matilda quickly peeled off her wet clothes. It was a trickier task because of the added bulk of the heavily drenched fabric.
Thankfully, Sullivan had proved a gentleman when she’d needed his assistance with the buttons. She’d held her breath the entire time he’d stood behind her, waiting for him to make some comment about her overly long neck or ridiculously freckle-covered skin.
He’d said nothing and left her alone in the room.
That they’d have to share.
With only one bed. Alone.
Even with him sleeping on the floor, the very notion of them being in the