"What in blazes is this?!" a British male voice demands loudly, dragging me out of an unusually restful slumber. Do I want to know who that is? Doesn t matter. I m awake now, and I ll have to fact him eventually.
Wesley stands in the doorway to my chamber, irate and glaring at me.
"Whatever do you mean?" I inquire sleepily as I try to stretch, only to be prevented by a warm, restraining weight around my middle. Something behind me stirs--Dmitri. That s what.
"What the…OH. Father, I swear, this isn t…what it looks like," Dmitri adds, startled awake. Don t bother, Dmitri. It s too late.
"Not what it looks like?!" Wesley storms over to the bed and yanks Dmitri out of it by one arm, causing his son to yelp. I wish I could melt away into the mattress. "Fie, boy, you d best have a better explanation than that for turning up in your fiancée s bed the morning after the ball celebrating your engagement. Couldn t wait until the actual wedding, could you, eh lad?"