Chapter 4
James’s first muzzy thought, on waking, was that it was alarmingly late in the morning. He was not accustomed to playing the slugabed; even as a boy he had never enjoyed idleness, and as a grown man and viscount he always had a hundred things that needed doing. The mid-morning sunlight glaring in his eyes was a sign that his obligations were going unmet.
His second thought was the disorienting realization that this was not his bedchamber. And he was not alone in the uncomfortably narrow bed.
“Nicholas,” he whispered, remembering, and felt a smile light his face as he leaned up on his elbow, gazing down at the sleeping form beside him. A face so familiar, and yet somehow new to him. Had he ever seen Nicholas sleeping before? Certainly he had never seen him like this, boneless a
