“Oh, what a fine kettle of fish,” he muttered, the language of early nineteenth century Britain with him still. “I’ve been reduced from human being to teddy bear in the space of a night, forsooth.”
He lifted his head, careful not to strike his chin on Chastity’s head, and inspected what little of the scene he could see beyond blanketed form. He let it drop back to his pillow after a few moments, took in a deep breath and exhaled. Chastity apparently saw fit to do the same, but there came a pleasant sound from her, a sigh of contentment. Jack was moved, and smiled in spite of himself. He let his right arm rest on her back, and unless his eyes were deceiving him he could have sworn he saw her smile ever so slightly as she slept.
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