Her Assassin's Heart - Book 2

Chapter 50

    Cassandra awoke aware of two things: her head ached phenomenally, and there was a draft. Groaning, she half opened her eyes, found the effort too much, shifted to her side, and attempted to go back to sleep. Weight shifted the mattress beneath her, and comforting warmth wrapped around her. Satisfied that the chill was gone, she snuggled into the heat as it pulled her close, and she drifted off to sleep.

•>>><><<<•

    She turned over, and Nickolas groaned, pulling her closer. Cassandra blinked blearily at the blinding light coming from somewhere. Nickolas burrowed his face into the curve of her neck and—

    Nickolas. He was in her bed. He was holding her in his arms. Bloody hell!

    She wriggled until his grip loosened enough for her to turn around. When had he gotten here? She wracked her brain for what had happened. The last she remembered, they'd been riding to a farm. . .

    No, that wasn't true. She remembered someone carrying her. She remembered a man's voice saying she was fine and to let her rest. She remembered reaching out for someone but finding nothing and no one.

    Now, here she was, lying in Nickolas's arms. A quick glance around the room told her they were alone, but she couldn't figure out where they actually were. The room was clean and spacious, but it was unfamiliar all the same.

    Their location raised a question as her sleepy brain began to wade through the fog: who was their host? That, in turn, raised the question: who in their right mind would allow an unmarried couple to share a room—let alone a bed? Was she, perhaps, dreaming? She pinched herself, but nothing changed.

    Nickolas would know what was going on. She turned her attention to the sleeping man beside her. All she had to do was wake him up and ask him what was going on, but he looked so peaceful and rested that she couldn't bring herself to do it.

    If he was sleeping so soundly, though, it could only mean that they were safe for the moment. She had no need to be worried. No matter how tired he was, if she was in danger, he wouldn't sleep. The thought reassured her, and she felt some semblance of peace restored to her worrisome mind.

    Shifting slightly closer, she studied his face. His firm jawline was peppered with thick stubble, a testament to the fact that he hadn't shaved in several days. The looked suited him unfairly well.

    In his sleep, he was so relaxed, from the smooth lines of his lips to his long eyelashes, lightly brushing his cheeks. Cassandra had never fully noticed how perfectly structured his face was. It gave him such a regal look.

    His hair was carelessly flopped over his forehead, brushing his prominent cheekbones. Gently, she moved it aside, resisting the urge to run her fingers through it. This was her person. That was the face she loved so well. It didn't matter where they were as long as they were together.

    "You're staring." His voice startled her, and with a gasp, she tried to push away from him, but his arms trapped her.

    "You're awake!" She said as he opened his sleep-glazed eyes.

    He only responded with a grin, and she was acutely aware of the feeling of his hands through her nightgown. Feeling a blush creep up her cheeks, she tried to move away again, but he held her firm, and that grin, that horrible, beautiful grin turned almost feline.

    "Where are you trying to rush off to?" He drawled, his voice still heavy from sleep. That alone would have been enough to set her heart to thumping wildly in her chest, but the way he was looking at her only added to the fire in her veins, growing in the pit of her stomach.