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Anne stretched her legs and found them weighted down. Opening her eyes, she saw a bedside table with a cup perched on top. Allowing her gaze to roam the room, she took in details, like the closed wooden door, the table and chairs across the room, the carafe of wine she’d grabbed the night before. Her eyes tracked down her body, where she found herself partially covered with a linen sheet and quilt, and the dark arm belonging to the man sleeping behind her. It draped across her waist and it was his legs, she realized, that held down her own.
She thought back to her conversation with Duncan last night. He wanted her to stay in these rooms with him, and she had agreed, quietly and quickly, like a child afraid the offer of sweets would be taken back. She swallowed, and realizing her throa
