Cole muttered something and hauled her closer, his face pressed to her shoulder, his breathing falling right back into a regular rhythm. His brawny arm was like an iron band she decided an hour later, but the sun was coming up and he seemed exhausted, so she gently eased free and took care of the necessities. She washed her face in the basin, dressing swiftly with a small smile at the difference in her routine from when she required a maid to do all the tiny buttons and help her with the endless petticoats. She ran a comb quickly through her hair and tied it back with a small piece of pretty pink ribbon—the only real concession to femininity—and then followed the smell of coffee from the kitchen. Robert was there, in his shirt sleeves, flour on his hands, a smile curving his lips as he glanced up when she entered the room. “He still sleeping?” “Yes. I can’t believe it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Cole asleep before.” “Can’t say as I have often either. Usually he has one eye open all the time.
