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remembered far too well the pouting press of breastsagainst his chest, the way his hand had fit the nip of her waist just so.
    His staff stirred to almost painful life. Exhaling slowly, he pushed his thoughts away from the potent swelling between his thighs. A voice within reminded him of the chain in his pouch. He stared hard at the frailty of the wrist that even now lay between the tempting valley of her breasts. Yet in the end he discarded the need to see her fettered. She was already asleep, and there was no need to wake her.
    His expression taut, he stretched out, near her but not touching her.
    She rolled, burrowing into his side. Cameron went rigid, as if he’d been paralyzed. His lungs seemed to shut down. His body turned to stone, his insides to porridge. The entire length of her lay pliantly yielding against him. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder. He could feel the moist wisp of her breath trickling over the skin of his collarbone.
    A shiver shook her anew.
    His mood suddenly dark as the night, he lurched to a sitting position. In one swift move he’d dragged his plaid from his shoulders and dropped it over her form.
    His mouth curled in scathing self-derision. Fiercely he berated himself, scorning both himself and this innocent temptress. Desire. Tenderness. What foolishness had seized hold of him?
    This time, when he lay back down, he doubled the distance between them.
    Sleep did not come easily for Cameron MacKay that night.
     
    Meredith awoke with his plaid draped about her body.
    Directly above, the sky was a perfect, brilliant blue.Birds trilled a melodious tune, flitting through the treetops and rustling the branches. Yet the beauty of the day was lost upon her. One thought burned through her mind, as if it had been branded there.
    He’d covered her with his plaid.
    She lay very quiet, her fingers curling into the soft, warm wool. The scent of him still clung to the fabric—not unpleasant, just woodsy and musky and undeniably male.
    Why? she wondered wildly. She didn’t understand his concern—nor had she expected it. His face had been so hard as he’d examined her feet last eve. Why, the very sight of him reaching for her had made her recoil and long to make the sign of the cross. Yet the touch of his hands had been a direct contrast. Why did he even care? He was right. She could not blame him. She’d brought such injury upon herself solely because of her own obstinacy.
    And he could have let her drown. Merciful heaven, he could have let her die !
    Yet he had not. He had not .
    She owed him her thanks…she owed him her very life.
    What was it she’d said to him? You are a wretch. The slimiest vermin of the earth . In her heart Meredith was appalled at her behavior. Such slander against another was hardly benevolent! Of a certainty it was not behavior indicative of a servant of the Lord! She cringed inside. To think that she had dared to speak such things to another! Oh, but she was sinful and wicked and she must seek forgiveness here and now.
    Clasping her hands together, she ducked her head to pray.
    Her prayers never made it to fruition…oh, yet another sin! She stared at her hands. It dawned on herslowly…she was unfettered. There was no chain that bound them together. “She was stunned that he trusted her not to attempt escape, particularly after the way he’d queried her last evening; but then she recalled his warning and a sizzle of resentment went through her. More likely he simply believed she would not do it. Mayhap because he was convinced she was too much a coward!
    She moved her head ever so slightly. He lay on his back, one lean hand resting in the middle of his chest. Swallowing, she allowed her gaze to slide upward.
    Her stomach clenched oddly. He was older than she, but still young…and aye, there was no help for it, quite handsome despite the fact that he was a thieving MacKay. His face and neck were dark with several days’ growth of beard, but there was a slight cleft