Read Online Elves and Escapades (Scholars and Sorcery Book 2) by Eleanor Beresford - Free Book Online Page B

light. She pads carefully across the room in the darkness. I feel her weight next to me, and dimly discern her outline against the curtained window.
    "I couldn't sleep either." I peer more carefully at her. She’s shining pale from head to foot, like a will o’wisp, when I know perfectly well that her dressing gown is nile green and would make a darker outline. "Rosalind Hastings, if you didn't bother to put on your dressing gown!" I reach out to grasp her arm, thin in my grip, feeling the trembling through the linen nightgown. She must be frozen. "Don't tell me you didn't wear your slippers either. You precious little nincompoop, you're not fit to look after yourself. Get into bed."
    "Oh, but—"
    "You’re supposed to be delicate, old girl. I'm not having you catch your death of cold while you’re in my home.” I push her gently off the bed and hold up the bed covers. She remains motionless for quite an awkward space of time, and for a moment I’m afraid that, sensitive as she is, Rosalind resents the scolding, however fond the intent. I’m relieved when she finally slips into bed beside me.
    I’m right about the slippers; one of my own pyjama legs has become hiked up in my restlessness, and Rosalind's foot is icy against my skin, sending the tiny hairs on my leg bristling. I squeak, and hear a heartless giggle in response as Rosalind takes advantage of the difference in our height by pushing her feet between my calves to warm them.
    “Your feet are like ice cubes!”
    “Sorry.” She doesn’t sound particularly repentant.
    I hesitate. I shouldn’t, I know, have her here at all. At first I had been so worried about her exposing herself to the cold that I had lost all sense. Now, her skin already against mine, I know it’s dangerous. But some things seem easier in the dark, somehow, and the poor girl is shivering half to death. There’s nothing I can really do but wrap my arms around her and try and warm her with my own body heat.
    For a moment I think I’ve dared too much, as Rosalind holds stiffly away from me. Then she sighs and snuggles into my embrace.
    Longing rises thick in my throat at her closeness; then, hopeless longing is something I have become used to. I settle her head against my shoulder and close my eyes, letting myself fall into a state of bliss. I tell myself it’s allowable, just for tonight. I will dream that she sleeps here every night, that I have every right to hold her close. Just for a little while. It will be a memory to get me through the lonely next fortnight.  
    “Cosy now?” I ask at last, when she stops shivering. “You'd better take my things when you go back. I won't have you wandering around in the night half-dressed.”
    "You're terribly sweet, but you needn't fuss—it hardly took me two minutes to get here. I'm nice and toasty now." Her words are muffled against the side of my neck, and I shiver myself at the ticklish warmth. It feels awfully nice and I’m almost sure it shouldn't feel quite as nice as it does. It sends reverberations of shock all through me, almost unbearably delicious. “I want to stay, if you don’t mind. I’m so lonely, for some reason, tonight. If you don't mind me sleeping with you, I won't deprive you of your dressing gown."
    “I don't mind,” I say, minding terribly in my own secret way. It’s so hard, lying so close, not to let my hands trace her form through her nightgown, steal a kiss from her mouth. Disastrous. I need to relax and innocently enjoy the closeness, as if she was one of my younger siblings snuggling up for comfort. “There’s plenty of space, and it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.”
    “I know. That was when we were first truly friends, wasn’t it? I don’t see how we could not have become friends, after that horrible evening.”
    “I’m glad it happened. Sweet dreams, Rosalind.”
    Neither of us mention that we didn’t sleep in each other’s arms, that night. I don’t mention, either, that on