The thought of her on Zach’s arm at a London ball or in Zach’s bed disturbed him in a way he didn’t yet want to examine.
Her fingers curled over his where he was still stroking her palm.
He looked at her face, to find sleepy brown eyes gazing back at him.
He cleared his throat and set her hand on the bed. “Just checking to see if you used the salve.”
She sat up and swung her legs over the side, her bare shins and feet visible because her long duck trousers were hanging up, still damp, and she was wearing the shorter, striped dungarees.
She opened her mouth to speak but shut it without uttering a sound when there was a tap on the door and Flynn entered with a tray.
“Thought you might need summat warm,” he said, addressing neither of them directly, and set the tray on the table. He tug
