He woke already damp with perspiration, eyes gritty from lack of sleep. Rubbing them, he groaned as heavy snoring echoed through the wall and threatened to shake the candelabras from the roof. Rolling off the sleeping pallet, James forced himself up and tugged on his chausses before slipping his feet into leather boots.He glanced into the guard’s quarters to see that only the night watchmen remained. All others were at their station. Aside from him. Ack, but this was the second morn this sennight he’d slept late. And the damned soldiers let him, likely fearing their captain’s wrath.The rough texture of too much stubble greeted him as he rubbed a hand over his jawline. Aye, he needed a shave. And a bath. His father would be heartily ashamed of him; he hardly fitted the image of a captain. Late, unkempt, tired. He needed to get a grip. Determined to no longer contemplate the fate of a certain woman, he shoved aside the lingering memory of obscure dreams and stepped out of the shadows of the quarters into the bright morning light.
