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“I can work with that.”

“Work with that, how?” She paused at the bottom of the stairs.

“That’s a surprise for later.” He caught her elbow. “One more thing.”

She turned to him. “I’m not offering to sleep on the floor.”

“We have to talk.”

“We will.” Bea caught his free hand, a way to settle her nerves. “I want to know what you think of the soft furnishings. A professional view, then we might try the bed.” She led him to the second floor. “Purely in the interests of assessing mattress quality, fabric and thread count of sheets. I wonder if they have a pillow menu? I imagine you have certain standards where resting your naked body is concerned.”

“Right now, all I can think of is your naked body,” he growled.

She leaned toward him and ran a hand down his chest to hover above his abdomen. “You’re about to get a chance to test imagination against reality, and you might be disappointed—” She was babbling to disguise her growing nervousness.

“I could never be disappointed.”

“I haven’t finished.” Bea stopped at the top of the stairs, checking room numbers. “Looks like we’re down that way. We might be duds in bed together. You know, no chemistry.”

“You’re determined I’ll find out.” He walked the length of the hall, keyed in his card, pushed the door wide and gestured for her to precede him.

She sashayed past him, patting his cheek on the way. “Only if you’re willing, Casildo. I’ll need to be very clear that you want this as much as I do. I don’t take unwilling lovers to my bed.”

In seconds, Bea registered a double tester bed—who still had them?—patterned wallpaper, scatter rugs on a polished wood floor, and heavy drapes tied to one side of the bay window hosting a cushioned seat. Stifling another giggle, part jitters and part sheer delight, she set her bag down before heading for the window. The bed occupied a third of the room—hard to avoid—but she focused on the window. Once there, she stared out at the park.

I want this. With Casildo. Only Casildo.

“What a lovely outlook.”

“Cute,” Casildo muttered.

She turned, her expression schooled to innocence.

“Pretending not to see the elephant in the room.” He was staring at the huge old-fashioned bed, of a type she’d thought had disappeared with central heating.

She peered more closely at the pattern on the bed drapes. “Oh, that!” She waved an airy hand. “Aren’t they gumnuts, not elephants?”

He snorted.

She toed off her boots and clambered onto the bed, patting the spot beside her. “Come tell Aunty Bea what’s troubling you.”

“You’re not an aunt yet.” He ditched his shoes and positioned himself beside her, thumping the pillows so he could get comfortable. “It’s medieval.”

“Sharing a bed probably started long before medieval times.”

“Ha ha.”

“Give me your professional assessment,” she said, snuggling under his arm and resting her head on his chest. They hadn’t got as far as snuggling in a bed before now. Chairs, sofas, but her honourable hero had resisted all invitations to strip down.

“Renovated maybe a decade ago. Wallpaper is an old William Morris design, based on Acanthus leaves and their colours as they age and change. It’s a classic and I like it, but we’re in small country town Australia, and I’d go for Aussie colours and designs. She’s overdone it as well, picking it up in the rugs, doona cover and cushions. At least the curtains and lampshades are block colours.”

“Is she trying to create a particular mood?” Bea walked her fingers down his ribcage.

“Wealth, old-fashioned comfort, designs that have stood the test of time,” he mused.

“She might see comfort and durability as good emblems for marriage?” Reaching his midriff, Bea let her fingers drift toward his belt buckle.

“Except it’s a mishmash.” He caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. “William Morris was nineteenth century, an outstanding designer for his times. The tester bed started centuries earlier and was redesigned multiple times. When people stopped sleeping on the floor around the fire, the curtains were designed to keep heat in.”