When Matthias finally roused, the lone candle in the room had gone out, and he was unable to see his bedmate. He could hear the deep breathing, however, and feel the warm body sprawled next to him. It was easy enough to picture the sleep-mussed golden curls on his pillow and the well-formed limbs, heavy with satisfaction. It was certainly preferable to think of that than of Nick’s actions that evening. Matthias still didn’t know whether he was furious or deeply touched by Nick’s efforts to help him—save him?—from Sir Randolph Lamotte.
That Nick’s only fear was what his death would have meant for his sisters, that he’d been compelled to return to Matthias’ side despite this, raised questions that Matthias wasn’t sure he wanted answered. Part of his mind insisted that Nick had only meant to
