Her gaze landed on him and Everett watched her face, scrutinizing her for any little change, trying to read the thoughts in her mind. Or an instant it seemed she'd say something about their circumstances, the unspoken words hung there as she stopped. Still unavailable to him. He finished in his mind. Instead of saying anything in response he nodded.
The next few minutes were quiet as he helped her with her layers. He didn't want to say anything that would spook her. He would never have guessed when he had first met her that she'd spook easily. But then again so much had changed since then. Finally he had her down to her chemise. He tried not to focus on it, but she was beautiful, the loose flow of the garment only adding a more intimate layer to it. Clearing his throat Everett stepped away. She'd said she still wasn't available, wasn't ready, so he certainly wouldn't allow his thoughts to go down that particular path.
Verity tried desperately not to think too much of it as her layers were slowly removed. He remained a perfect gentleman about the situation, as she only felt his hands brush against her clothes more heavily (or clumsily) a few times. Everett was helping her, that was all. He wasn't planning to pursue anything further, or so he had led her to believe.
She reached for her night dress and held it to her chest once everything but her chemise and underthings had been removed. "I appreciate your help. Thank you, again." She said quietly. There was nowhere to look but up at him, for anywhere else reminded her of how exposed they both were.
Hardly a moment had passed before Verity had pulled her nightgown to her, holding it between them like a shield. Definitely still unavailable. They were husband and wife in name only. He knew that. Then why did his mind keep wishing for something other than that?
The night Everett had rescued Verity, the night they had come up with this plan, he had known what he was giving up. He had known what she was giving up too. And he had made his peace with that. Or at least he thought he had.
"You're welcome." Everett's voice was low as he turned from her and walked back to his side of the bed. When he had gotten back under the covers he reluctantly turned his back to her and inspected the wallpaper by the window, listening intently to any sounds from Verity, feeling for the shift in the bed that meant she too had gotten into bed. He still found himself disbelieving that she would share a bed with him, but he'd be damned if she slept on the floor instead of him.
There was something in his eyes and the way he almost solemnly returned to the bed that left Verity stunned for a minute. Everett was the picture of a gentleman. He'd rescued her in a blaze of glory like a prince slaying a dragon. He married her despite all the complications and reasons to do otherwise. Even now, when only a few layers separated them, Everett was accepting of her boundaries.
So why couldn't she move the boundaries and allow something more between them?
Tonight wasn't the night to try.
Changing as quickly as she could without stumbling or otherwise making a fool of herself, Verity yanked her nightgown over her head and climbed into bed besides him. She laid on her back, her arm nearly hanging off the bed with the amount of distance left between them, and stared at the ceiling. "Good night, Everett."
The rustle of fabric from her side of the bed seemed loud to Everett's ears. But finally there was the reassuring movement of the mattress and the covers shifting. The bed wasn't terribly large but Verity seemed to make it larger. How close to the edge was she? He hated that it was this way. But at least she wasn't on the floor.
He tried to hold himself still, to not think of her only feet away. His mind focused on tracing the pattern of the wallpaper until he heard her words. "Good night Verity." At least it was a start. It was something beyond going their separate ways. But he doubted it would ever be anything more. And with that thought Everett drifted off into sleep.