"Don't…what?"
When he made no move to comply, her first impulse was to grab his hand and put it back where she wanted it. But though her body still reminded her just how wonderful he'd made her feel, her head cleared a bit. Thank heavens he had more sense than she did and had saved her from her folly.
She could scarcely believe she'd become that lost in temptation.
"Where am I?" he asked, and she felt foggy, confused. He struggled to rise to an elbow, his gray gaze swiftly scanning the room. "How the devil did I come to be here in—"
He broke off as he focused on her beside him, then gasped at her naked shoulders and half-exposed breasts. Slipping a hand beneath the covers, he skimmed her bare side briefly, as though needing confirmation before he jerked away and dropped his head to the pillows.
"Oh, bloody hell," he ground out through a groan.
TWENTY-SIX
HIS THOUGHTS still murky, Tristan watched Alexandra snatch the counterpane higher to cover her bare breasts. In the pale, flickering light, her eyes were pools of brandy mist. Her cheeks were rosily flushed. Her breath sounded heavy and uneven. She looked passionate, sensuous, beautiful.
The mere sight of her was horrifying.
Because beneath those same covers, he was as shockingly naked as she. His breath was as ragged as hers. His body trembled with the aftereffects of recent arousal.
He'd never been more appalled in his life. He'd done the unthinkable—made love to his best friend's sister. And having done the unthinkable, now he could barely think.
"Bloody hell," he repeated more vehemently. His heart was pounding from much more than lingering lust. He would have to make amends. Damn his traitorous body, or brain, or whatever it was that compelled him to commit unforgivable acts in his sleep. In his waking hours, like now, he still had his honor. Perhaps it was hanging by a thread, but he was determined to maintain it.
"We shall have to marry," he declared stiffly.
She stared at him, her breathing slowing to something approaching normal while her eyes cleared. "I'd love nothing more," she finally said in her considered, calm way. No temper tantrums for Alexandra, no matter how much she deserved to throw one. "But we cannot. Nothing has changed. My sisters—"
"Everything has changed," he snapped.
Her brow crinkled in confusion. "I thought you were dead set against marriage."
"I cannot believe you're arguing." As romantic proposals went, he knew his had fallen far short of ideal. But her reaction was incomprehensible. "You could even now be carrying my child."
"Carrying your child?" If anything, she seemed even more confused. "Have you changed your mind and now think to trick me?"
"No, I haven't changed my mind." To the contrary, after tonight's doings, he was more fearful of marriage than ever. If he could make love to Alexandra while sleepwalking, what else might he be capable of while unaware? Would he be a danger to his own wife? "But unfortunately, under the circumstances, I don't see where we have a choice."
She shook her head. "I might be a bit hazy on the details, but I've known the facts of life since the age of twelve. My mother was not remiss in my education. What just happened in this bed—nice as it was—couldn't possibly result in a child."
Could she mean…had he not followed all the way through?
The possibility hadn't occurred to him. He'd assumed, since he wasn't aroused, he'd completed the act. Before he'd fully awakened, could the shock have stolen his desire?
"Are you certain?" he asked.
Her brow crinkled again. "Are you not?"
"No," he said simply.
The single word hung in the air. She waited, just looking at him, expecting an explanation. Holy Christ. Humiliating though it might be, there was nothing for it—he had to confess the truth.
"I have no memory of our encounter," he said at last. "I don't even know how I got to this room."
"How can that be?"
"I was sleeping. Or rather, sleepwalking." He braced for her reaction. "The last thing I remember before waking here in your bed was going to sleep in my own. I realize that's difficult to believe—"
"Were you really sleepwalking?" she interrupted, the confusion in her voice replaced by curiosity. He'd been certain she'd think him addled, but that didn't seem to be the case. "I thought that only happened in books."
"It's happened to me all my life, on and off. I'm sorry. I know that's a pathetic excuse for stealing your virginity—"
"You didn't," she said in her usual, straightforward way. "Perhaps you stole some of my innocence, but my virginity is intact."
Most women, Tristan imagined, would be furious regardless. "Are you certain?" he asked again.
She laughed. At a time like this, she laughed. "I'm positive. You only…touched me, Tris. In…very nice ways. With your hands and your mouth—but not in any fashion that would compromise my virginity, let alone leave me with child."
He couldn't remember ever being more relieved, both by that news and her reaction to his confession. She really was a very special woman.
It was almost too bad he couldn't marry.
"Thank you," he said, "for your honesty. This won't happen again. As far as I know, I've never sleepwalked twice in a night." He began to rise, the covers falling to his waist.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Please, stay for a while." Her eyes wide, she stared at his bare chest. "I know it's frightfully improper, but what's a few more minutes? I want to hear more about the sleepwalking. And you're leaving tomorrow."
He hadn't ever seriously talked to anyone about this. The thought was alarming, but also strangely appealing. He drew a steadying breath and gestured to his dressing gown at the foot of the bed, vaguely wondering when he'd donned it, let alone taken it off. "Shall we…put something on?"
Her gaze flicked to her nightgown, a crumpled white ball beside her. She clutched the covers tighter beneath her chin, clearly unwilling to let go
