Snowed Under Read Free Page B

without making any noise at all. He wasn’t mistaken though, it definitely smelt like sex.
    Dean suddenly felt a lot better, with something else to occupy his mind other than his complete exhaustion. The sex theory would explain the bare legs underneath a coat, the dress with buttons undone. Dean had been in a few of the finer whore houses in his travels, and he knew that women could pleasure each other, but it hadn’t occurred to him that it was something they’d do for their own benefit, and not simply for the entertainment of a man.
    The girl in the blue dress appeared in his view, and Dean was embarrassed about his thoughts, but not quite enough to stop thinking them.
    “Hi, I’m Nell—no, don’t get up,” she said as he tried to get to his feet. “You don’t need to be a gentleman when you’re frozen half to death, Mr Rook.” She smiled, and Dean admired her dark eyes and full lips.
    Dean held out his hand. “Please,” he said, “call me Dean.”
    Her hand disappeared in his, and she rubbed his in both of hers. “You’re hands are freezing, Dean.” She dropped his hand and reached for his heavy buffalo robe. “I’m sure this coat of yours saved you, but it’s soaked, let’s get it off and let the heat of the fire get to you.” She tugged at his sleeve and between the two of them they got the heavy, waterlogged fur off his shoulders. Nell spread it out on the hearth then added a couple of logs to the fire.
    Dean watched her work, the thin material of her dress outlining her slender form and narrow hips. She wasn’t as curvy as the one with the Sharps, but she was lovely, and the view warmed him as quickly as the fire did.
    Pots clattered on the woodstove behind him, and Dean jumped, wondering if he’d been caught staring or if it was his own guilt that made him nervous. He held his hands out to the flames again. They were starting to thaw, his fingertips tingling painfully.
    “Here.” A large mug of soup was thrust into his hands, and Dean took it carefully in his stiff fingers. Both women hovered over him while he took his first sip. It was too hot and burnt his tongue, but it heated him right to his belly as well.
    The first woman was older than Nell, but not a lot. She was still bare foot and bare legged and, Dean strongly suspected, bare underneath her heavy coat. He wished he’d had the presence of mind to look in the window before he’d started banging on the door, because he suspected he’d have got a show that would’ve warmed him up better than the hot soup. He lifted his mug in her direction. “Thank you…” He let his voice trail off, waiting for her to fill in the blank.
    “I’m Ivy,” she said curtly. “Come along, Nell, we might as well eat too.”
    Dean heard the chairs pull out from the table, their legs scraping against the floor, but he didn’t turn around to join them, too comfortable next to the fire and full of soup. He was nearly feeling human again. All he needed now was to sleep.
     
    * * * *
     
    “Dean.” A hand was on his shoulder, shaking him gently. “Dean, here, I made you a bed by the fire, you need to get out of the chair.”
    “I fell asleep?” Dean said, then felt stupid. Obviously he’d fallen asleep, sitting up in the chair. He eyed the blankets on the floor, outlined with flickering firelight.
    “Yes, and Ivy was going to let you sleep there in that chair all night, at least till you fell out, but I’m much nicer than her.” Nell winked.
    “Thanks.” Dean tipped forward off the chair and crawled onto the makeshift bed, settling into the pillow.
    “You’re welcome,” Nell said, “sweet dreams.” Her hands fluttered across his shoulder and hip as she spread a blanket over him, and it was probably Dean’s imagination that they lingered just a second longer than they needed to.
    Dean watched the flames, enjoying the warmth on his face, the comfort of the pillow. He could hear the rustling as the women got ready for bed, and he wondered