Yorkshire nights were cold, even in summer.
At least they always had been until last week, Tristan thought.
Siegfried, of course, would only chide him for such fancies; claiming that he certainly would not feel any cold if, for a change, he just worked, as the rest of the world did.
But surely that could have nothing to do with the fact that Tristan had felt cold in the night for all of his life, practically racing from the bath into his bedroom and jumping under his bedsheet; pulling the thick blanket up to his ears in a desperate attempt to keep away the chill.
If he had only known before there was a much better way to stay warm in the night, he probably would have found the courage to kiss James weeks ago.
Then again, good things come to those who wait, and that had proven to be true when James and Tristan had been tired, cold, and miserable after a late night calving; huddling together in the straw after the job was done.
After a while, no cold had been felt anymore.
Tristan grinned and snuggled up closer to his sleeping friend, feeling warmer than ever before.