Page 84 of Valour

“Not really.”

“It’s been a long day. Let’s get some sleep.” He unrolled his sleeping bag next to hers, and she stared down at it, swallowing hard. She had never slept next to a man before. She and Ernie had always kept separate bedrooms. Her stomach hollowed out at the thought of him. But she could do this. It was fine. It meant nothing.

“Come, Marjorie,” she said, dragging the dog by the collar into the space between her and Arnold, then slipping inside her fur-lined bag. The cold bit into her bones, lodging itself there. She wrapped an arm around Marjorie. The dirty cream fabric of the tent shook in the wind, and Charlotte shook in the wrappings of matted, stinking fur.

Arnold got inside his bag and propped himself up on an elbow. “I’m sorry if sharing the tent makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine.” She avoided his eyes, pulling the bag up to her nose and shivering. Had Hester done this on purpose? What possible reason could she have to inflict this on her? She risked a glance at Arnold.

He looked crestfallen, a longing in his eyes.

“Why do you look that way?” she asked, her voice muffled through the fur. He was probably wishing Hester had put him in a tent with her.

“What way?” he asked.

“You’re sad.”

“I’m not sad.”

“You are! You always have that little crease between your brows when you’re sad.” She knew him so well after spending each and every day with him. Knew when he was content, when he was worried, when he was miserable.

“I’m sad you’re uncomfortable. I’ll go and get Hester to swap with me,” he said, starting to climb out of the sleeping bag.

“No! Don’t. She snores. I’m fine here with you,” Charlotte said, her teeth starting to chatter. The cold leeched up through the ice and into the fur.

“If you’re sure,” he said, lying down and curling up. “It’s really cold, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Goodnight, Arnold.” She was being short with him, she knew. But she was so cross with Hester. Hester didn’t know about that night, couldn’t possibly understand. Charlotte curled up into Marjorie, tucking her hands under her armpits and letting the warmth of her breath heat the space inside the bag. She closed her eyes, wrinkled her nose against the smell of the fur and hoped her shivering wouldn’t keep Arnold awake.

“You’re shivering,” Arnold said. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to put Marjorie on your other side, and me on this side?”

Charlotte’s eyes shot open. It was almost as if she were in one of the romance novels she loved, when there was only one bed left in the whole inn and the reluctant couple were forced to share it. But there was no way anything would happen, unlike in those books. Arnold was pining for Hester, and she was still in mourning and couldn’t let a man touch her like that, even if she was attracted to him. No, she could hardly act on these feelings. But it couldn’t hurt to use the warmth he offered.

“Alright.” She dragged Marjorie to her other side, turning her back to Arnold, who shuffled over and tucked his legs up under hers, his chest pressing against her back. She settled into him, his warm breath hitting the back of her neck.

A different kind of warmth flooded her. She lay stock still, hardly daring to breathe as the heat that rose in her cheeks swept down and coiled between her thighs. She shifted her hips away from him slightly, in case he’d feel the heat somehow.

“Is this alright?” he asked, propped on an elbow over her.

“Yes,” she squeaked, cheeks blazing hotter. “Yes, better. Thank you.”

She turned to look up at him, and when their eyes met, she stilled. His whole face seemed lit from within. His cheeks were rosy, his lips parted. But his eyes. Full of love and longing and hope. And she knew. It hit her so hard she the breath left her lungs, and she struggled to inhale the next.

All this time? Could it be? When he’d said he was in love with someone who did not love him back. Had he meant her? Not Hester at all?

She gasped in her next breath, and his smile faltered.

“What is it?” he asked.

And did that mean that Hester knew, too? Had she tried to force them together in this tent?

“Nothing. Nothing,” she muttered, turning to look at Marjorie, her heart beating a fast rhythm against her ribs. She daren’t look back at him. Oh, she would be having words with Hester in the⁠—

Panicked shouts arose from outside the tent.

Hester flew out of her tent, taking in the chaos of people and dogs in the dark.

“Captain—a crack in the floe, right in the middle of the camp,” Frank shouted.