His only answer was her soft breathing. Even in sleep her hand drifted across his skin, as if she couldn’t bear not knowing for sure if he was there. The emotional privation of the past three months was written clearly in lines on her face, lines that hadn’t been there before.
Watching her sleep for a long moment, he reached out and ever so gently pushed her fiery hair away from her face, scared of wakening her up so soon. He could watch her sleep forever, he mused with a smile on his face, and as her hand moved across his torso, his curled around her waist, holding each other as he finally drifted off into an exhausted sleep by her side.
The tower room had no windows, and the maidservant who came to poke up the fire for morning tiptoed in and out with extreme care, on the orders of the chamberlain. No one was to disturb the pair, on pain of … well, pain. The chamberlain’s threat was rather indeterminate — not that anyone in the household wished to disagree with his point.
It was quite late in the morning, then, when Summer woke, arms still clasped tight about Isaac. She spent a little time simply watching him sleep. It was just as she remembered, he softened in sleep, seeming almost childlike in his relaxation. Lightly, she stroked his face, fingertips tracing his mouth.