“Idealist,” she accused softly, snuggling still closer. “Handsome, sheltered, wonderful, foolish knight-idealist … ” Her eyes slipped closed.
“I can’t possibly be all of those things; I’d explode,” he murmured to deaf ears, his arms encircling her waist as he watched her sleep. Too afraid to move in case he woke her, he lay there with a smile.
She slept deeply and dreamlessly, exhausted from the excitement and hard work of the last two days. For her, the warmth and softness of the bed was sheerest luxury, and despite her desire not to sleep alone the fact that but one other shared the blankets with her was also sweet. She woke slowly, vaguely wondering if she were dreaming. The realisation that she was not was blissful. To wake without fear for what the day might bring — she stretched luxuriously and laughed.