James stirred in his slumping repose in the chair. His long hard body was stretched quite unselfconsciously before Philippa, and she realized that for once she could look her fill.
She leaned toward him to stare into his face, close enough to detect the brandy on his breath and the sandalwood on his skin. She shut her eyes for a moment and breathed deeply. Brandy and sandalwood and James.
Opening her eyes, she gazed at the structure of his face. The firelight bronzed the strong cheekbone and jaw, and shadowed that dent just below his full bottom lip. Stubble darkened his cheeks, giving him a dangerous air even in sleep. Her fingertips itched to feel that manly roughness. Then, with great serenity, she noticed her hand reaching toward him.
"Why, thank you, I do believe I will," she whispered to herself.