Christine, his mistress, who was tucked away in London. An uncomfortable feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. "And then what happened?"
"Well, you grabbed my neck, and I fell on the bed."
"And?"
"And that's all," Henry said quickly, suddenly realizing she could avoid telling the entire truth. "I shoved against you and woke you up, and in the process I fell on the floor."
His eyes narrowed. Was she leaving something out? He had always been very active in his sleep. He couldn't count the number of times he had woken up in the middle of making love to Christine. He didn't even want to think about what he might have initiated with Henry. "I see," he said in clipped tones. "I apologize for any untoward behavior committed against your person while I was asleep."
"Oh, it was nothing, I assure you," Henry said gratefully.
He looked down at her expectantly.
She looked back, an innocent smile on her face.
"Henry," he finally said. "What time is it?"
"What time is it?" she echoed. "Why, I think it must be almost six by now."
"Precisely."
"Excuse me?"
"Get out of my room."
"Oh." She scrambled to her feet. "You'll be wanting to get dressed, of course."
"I'll be wanting to go back to sleep."
"Hmm, yes, of course you will, but if you don't mind my saying so, it's highly unlikely you'll be able to fall asleep again. You might as well just get dressed."
"Henry?"
"Yes?"
"Get out."
She flew from the room.
Twenty minutes later Dunford joined Henry at the breakfast table. He was dressed casually, but Henry could tell with one glance that his clothes were far too fine for building a pigpen. She thought briefly about telling him this, then thought better of it. If he ruined his clothing, all the more reason for him to want to leave.
Besides, she rather doubted he owned anything suitable for building a pigpen.
He sat down across from her and grabbed a piece of toast with a movement so vicious she knew he was fuming.
"Couldn't get back to sleep?" Henry murmured.
He glared at her.
Henry pretended not to notice. "Would you like to look at the Times? I'm nearly done with it." Without waiting for him to reply, she pushed the paper across the table.
Dunford glanced down and scowled. "I read that two days ago."
"Oh. So sorry," she replied, unable to keep a trace of mischief out of her voice. "It takes a few days for the paper to get all the way out here. We're the end of the world, you know."
"So I'm coming to realize."
She suppressed a smile, pleased with how well her plans were progressing. After the bizarre scene earlier that morning, her determination to see him back in London had quadrupled. She was horribly aware of what one of his smiles did to her insides—she didn't particularly want to know what one of his kisses would do if she let it go to completion.
Well, that was not entirely true. She was dying to know what one of his kisses would do—she was just painfully certain he would never care to let her find out. The only way he was going to kiss her again was if he mistook her for another woman, and the chances of that happening twice were small indeed. Besides, Henry did have a measure of pride, even if she had conveniently forgotten about it that morning. Much as she'd enjoyed his kiss, she didn't particularly relish knowing he really wanted someone else.
Men like him didn't want women like her, and the sooner he left, the sooner she could go back to feeling good about herself.
"Oh, look!" she exclaimed, her face a miracle of cheerfulness. "The sun is coming up."
"I can hardly contain my excitement."
Henry choked on her toast. At least getting rid of him was going to be interesting. She decided not to provoke him further until he finished his breakfast. Men could be nasty on empty stomachs. At least that's what Viola had always told her. Downing a forkful of eggs, she turned her attention to the brilliant sunrise unfolding through the window. First the sky tinted lavender, then striped itself in
"Well, you grabbed my neck, and I fell on the bed."
"And?"
"And that's all," Henry said quickly, suddenly realizing she could avoid telling the entire truth. "I shoved against you and woke you up, and in the process I fell on the floor."
His eyes narrowed. Was she leaving something out? He had always been very active in his sleep. He couldn't count the number of times he had woken up in the middle of making love to Christine. He didn't even want to think about what he might have initiated with Henry. "I see," he said in clipped tones. "I apologize for any untoward behavior committed against your person while I was asleep."
"Oh, it was nothing, I assure you," Henry said gratefully.
He looked down at her expectantly.
She looked back, an innocent smile on her face.
"Henry," he finally said. "What time is it?"
"What time is it?" she echoed. "Why, I think it must be almost six by now."
"Precisely."
"Excuse me?"
"Get out of my room."
"Oh." She scrambled to her feet. "You'll be wanting to get dressed, of course."
"I'll be wanting to go back to sleep."
"Hmm, yes, of course you will, but if you don't mind my saying so, it's highly unlikely you'll be able to fall asleep again. You might as well just get dressed."
"Henry?"
"Yes?"
"Get out."
She flew from the room.
Twenty minutes later Dunford joined Henry at the breakfast table. He was dressed casually, but Henry could tell with one glance that his clothes were far too fine for building a pigpen. She thought briefly about telling him this, then thought better of it. If he ruined his clothing, all the more reason for him to want to leave.
Besides, she rather doubted he owned anything suitable for building a pigpen.
He sat down across from her and grabbed a piece of toast with a movement so vicious she knew he was fuming.
"Couldn't get back to sleep?" Henry murmured.
He glared at her.
Henry pretended not to notice. "Would you like to look at the Times? I'm nearly done with it." Without waiting for him to reply, she pushed the paper across the table.
Dunford glanced down and scowled. "I read that two days ago."
"Oh. So sorry," she replied, unable to keep a trace of mischief out of her voice. "It takes a few days for the paper to get all the way out here. We're the end of the world, you know."
"So I'm coming to realize."
She suppressed a smile, pleased with how well her plans were progressing. After the bizarre scene earlier that morning, her determination to see him back in London had quadrupled. She was horribly aware of what one of his smiles did to her insides—she didn't particularly want to know what one of his kisses would do if she let it go to completion.
Well, that was not entirely true. She was dying to know what one of his kisses would do—she was just painfully certain he would never care to let her find out. The only way he was going to kiss her again was if he mistook her for another woman, and the chances of that happening twice were small indeed. Besides, Henry did have a measure of pride, even if she had conveniently forgotten about it that morning. Much as she'd enjoyed his kiss, she didn't particularly relish knowing he really wanted someone else.
Men like him didn't want women like her, and the sooner he left, the sooner she could go back to feeling good about herself.
"Oh, look!" she exclaimed, her face a miracle of cheerfulness. "The sun is coming up."
"I can hardly contain my excitement."
Henry choked on her toast. At least getting rid of him was going to be interesting. She decided not to provoke him further until he finished his breakfast. Men could be nasty on empty stomachs. At least that's what Viola had always told her. Downing a forkful of eggs, she turned her attention to the brilliant sunrise unfolding through the window. First the sky tinted lavender, then striped itself in
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