Rosamund
I woke slowly, stretching lazily across the bed as my eyes fluttered open.
The room was warm. The curtains were drawn against the morning, but soft golden light leaked through the edges, painting narrow stripes across the bedsheets. Since the household discovered my pregnancy, Mrs Harlow let me sleep in as much as I wanted and only worried that I might be starving myself and the baby from having something to eat.
I blinked, letting my eyes adjust, and turned my head on the pillow.
Nevan was propped up beside me, his back against the headboard, his arms folded loosely across his chest. He was watching me with a soft smile on his face.
His bare face.
