Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [77]
His frame of mind soured after they had finished dessert and were getting ready to go to bed.
“Jago and I can bunk together in the master bedroom. That way, Netta and you each have a room.” Liam announced, as if that decided the matter.
Jago couldn’t help it; his eyebrows lifted at the suggestion. Obviously, brother dearest was a chess player, with plans on capturing Queen Netta, while protecting Queen Asha. Over my dead body, Jago swore to himself. “While I like you, Montgomerie, you’re not whom I had in mind to cuddle with tonight.”
Liam shrugged. “Beggars cannot be choosers.”
“I was invited. That puts you in the beggars category, eh?”
Asha made a sour face at her brother. “This is my home. I’d appreciate you letting me decide where guests sleep.”
Liam tossed up his hands. “Fine. You decide.”
“Thank you,” she replied, getting clean sheets from the linen closet. “Netta and I shall sleep together in the loft, and you two get the rooms on the landing.”
Liam looked disgruntled. “The beds in those rooms aren’t full-size, just old-fashioned three-quarter beds. The loft one is king-size.”
Asha grinned impishly. “Yeah, I know.” She shoved the sheets to his chest, and then pinched his cheek. “’Night, ’night, William Francis.”
“Francis?” Jago almost snorted. “As in The Talking Mule?”
“Up yours Jayyyyyyy-go. No one is named Jago.” Liam sneered good-naturedly and pushed the sheets back to Asha. “Seriously, the king-size bed would give us males more room. Three-quarter beds were not designed for men’s bodies.”
Jago said, “I’m almost afraid to ask what a three-quarter bed is?”
“Instruments of torture. Two inches shorter in length than a regular bed and about five inches narrower. Mickey Rooney would never complain, but I have to scrunch up or my feet hang over. I’ll have a pinched nerve in the morning,” he warned his sister.
“You should’ve thought of that before you invited yourself to a sleepover.” Asha shoved the sheets at him again and then walked off, leaving the two men standing in the hall of the landing, staring at each other.
Liam glanced at his sister going up the stairs, and then down at the sheets and pillowcases he held. “Well, bugger.”
“Not working out as you assumed, Mr. Chess Master?” Jago’s snigger slipped out when he saw Liam’s flummoxed expression.
Liam exhaled his disgust. “Enjoy wiggling your toes all night, Jayyyyygo.”
“Sure, Francis.” The cat shot past Jago’s legs, heading straight for the bed. “Yeah, well, I won’t be the one sleeping alone tonight.”
“This has to be the longest night of my life,” Jago grumbled to the fat feline a little while later. He paused from his pacing back and forth like a caged panther in the landing bedroom. His skin on fire, there was no sleeping. When he’d lay down, he’d half drifted, images of his morning with Asha flooding his mind, haunting, tormenting him. Opening a jalousie window to let in the cool air, he leaned on the frame, permitting the night’s dampness to flow over his bare chest. He’d love to go jump in the river, let the water bring down the temperature within his body, however they’d arrived at the river house too late to explore the bank and discover if swimming was safe here.
Just as his muscles relaxed and his groin stopped its insistent throbbing, he heard steps on the stairs, coming down. His head snapped up, and he knew without doubt that it was Asha. He was not sure how, since he’d never before heard her steps when she was trying to be silent. Maybe it was the animalistic mating instinct she aroused in him.
“Looks like I might get lucky after all, Puss,” Jago nearly purred, heading to the door. The beast yawned and stretched, then settled back down on the bed.
Asha had reached the landing and was coming down the hall as he opened the door. Wearing a black silk wrapper, she gave him a sleepy, sexy half-smile—which died as Liam’s body filled the opposite doorway. He glared at her in brotherly fashion