“Your feet, however, are still icicles.”
Victoria grimaced. “They do radiate the cold, don't they?”
“One cannot radiate cold,” he said, suddenly sounding very academic. “Cold objects suck in heat from the surrounding air, which makes it feel as if they are radiating cold, but in actuality one can only radiate heat.”
“Oh,” Victoria said, mostly just so that he would think she was listening.
“It's a common misconception.”
That appeared to be the end of the conversation, which left Victoria right where she had started—lying in bed next to a man who was not wearing any clothing. And she in her scandalously low-cut nightgown—it was quite beyond anything. Victoria tried to pull herself at least a few inches away from him, but his arm, while cold, seemed admirably strong. Robert clearly had no intention of letting her scoot to the other side of the bed.
Victoria ground her teeth together so hard she thought her jaw might snap. “I am going to sleep,” she declared firmly, then shut her eyes.
“Really?” Robert drawled, and it was clear from the tone of his voice that he didn't think she would be able to.
“Really,” she said, eyes still closed. She doubted she'd fall asleep anytime soon, but she'd always been really good at faking it. “Good night.”
Twenty minutes later Robert looked down at her in surprise. Her eyelashes rested lightly on her cheeks, and her chest rose and fell in an even, gentle rhythm. “I can't believe she nodded off,” he muttered. He didn't want to relinquish his hold on her, but his arm was falling asleep, so he rolled over with a loud sigh and shut his eyes. A few inches away, Victoria finally opened her eyes and allowed herself a small smile.
Chapter 18
W hen Victoria awakened the next morning, there was a naked arm thrown over her shoulder and an equally naked leg draped across her hip. The fact that both limbs were attached to a naked man immediately set her heart racing.
She carefully disentangled herself and climbed out of bed, pulling along a blanket to cover some of the skin the blue nightgown left bare. She'd just made it to the door when she heard Robert stir. Victoria grasped the knob, hoping that she could slip out before he opened his eyes, but before she could even twist her hand, she heard a groggy “Good morning” from behind her. There was nothing for it but to turn around. “Good morning, Robert.”
“I trust you slept well.”
“Like a baby,” she lied. “If you'll excuse me, I am going to change my clothing.”
He yawned, stretched, and said, “I can't imagine that your dress wasn't ruined yesterday.”
She swallowed, having forgotten the beating her one and only garment had taken the day before. The wind, rain, rocks, and saltwater had rendered it unmendable. Still, it was certainly more appropriate and respectable than what she was wearing now, and she told him so.
“Pity,” he said. “The blue gown looks so fetching on you.”
She snorted and wrapped the blanket more tightly around her. “It is indecent, and I'm sure that is exactly what you intended when you bought it.”
“Actually,” he said thoughtfully, “you fill it out even more delightfully than I'd dreamed.”
Victoria took “delightful” to be a euphemism for something else altogether, and quickly left the room. She didn't want to be subject to Robert's double-entendres. Even worse, she was terrified that he was beginning to wear her down. She hated to think what she might do if he tried to kiss her again.
She'd probably kiss him back. What a nightmare.
She scooted into her room, where her ruined dress was laying on her bed. The saltwater had left it stiff, and she had to beat and stretch the material until it was pliable enough for her to put it on. She left the blue nightgown on as a chemise; her own itched like the devil and had a piece of seaweed tangled up in the strap.
When she finally stepped in front of the mirror, she couldn't suppress a loud groan. She looked a fright. Her hair was beyond hope. There was no way she would be able to style it properly without washing the salt away, and her cursory inspection of the cottage hadn't unearthed any soap. Her dress was unbearably wrinkled, torn in four places that she could see—no, make that five, she realized as she inspected her hem. Still, it covered her up better than what she'd been wearing before.
And if she wasn't precisely looking her best for Robert—well, the man had up and abducted her. It served him right.
Robert, plain-spoken man that he was, made no attempt to gloss over the fact that her appearance was not up to her usual standards. “You look as if you've been attacked by dogs,” he said when they crossed paths in the hall. He had also gotten dressed, but unlike Victoria he looked immaculate. She supposed that he kept a change of clothing here at the cottage so he wouldn't have to pack for trips like these.