When Hubert awoke, he felt as luminous as the rays of sunshine that danced around the room, whose curtains there had certainly been no time to close. The glamorous bed was now a thousand shades of purple, the sheets a shimmering satin, the pillows a playground of patterns and polka dots.
Hubert was spent, but he was no longer sleepy. He wriggled to sit up, and Bartholomew adjusted his wing to keep Hubert covered and snug. Hubert had never slept in the altogether before. Come to that, he’d never been naked that he could remember that he wasn’t stepping into or out of the tub. Certainly never in bed, and with someone else! He waited for shame to shoot through him; tested his heart for revulsion, his conscience for recrimination. Finding none, he laughed. He peeked under Bartholomew’s protec
