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at the end of it that his body was about to explode. He raised his head, like a drowning man going down for the last time, and said softly, “Three is my limit, Mrs. Carmichael.”
    She blinked at him, her eyes wide and dazed looking, her lips slightly swollen from his kisses. She gazed into his eyes, as if reading his soul. He wondered what she saw in him but was distracted when her eyes dropped.
    “Three?” she whispered vaguely. Staring hungrily at his mouth, she licked her lips.
    He groaned. She didn’t understand. He was poised on the brink. If she didn’t get out of bed now, he would be lost. “Three kisses. If I kiss you again, I fear I will forget my promise to you.” She frowned, so he remined her. “My promise that your virtue would be safe with me,” and added ironically, “ on my honour as a gentleman . If you are not out of this bed in one minute, I will not be answerable for the consequences.”
    It took a moment for her to comprehend what he was saying and he had to smile. She was even more befuddled by passion than he was. But once his meaning percolated to her brain, she gasped and scrambled hurriedly out of the bed. She stood there on the bare floor, staring, her chest heaving as if she had run a race. His own breathing was just as ragged.
    “I…I am sorry,” she said in a low voice and, snatching her clothes from the hook behind the door, left the room.
    A moment later she was back, in the doorway, clutching her clothes against her chest, looking uncomfortable. “I…I wish…we could have…you know.” She blushed rosily. “I’m sorry.” She turned to go then paused and turned back, resolutely. “It was the loveliest awakening I have ever had, thank you,” she said in a gruff little voice and hurried down the stairs.
    He lay back in the bed, his body throbbing with unsatisfied need, a wry smile on his face. “ It was the loveliest awakening I have ever had, thank you .” It took courage for Mrs. “I-am-a-Virtuous-Widow” to admit that; courage and a kind of shy, sensual honesty that made him want to leap down the stairs after her and drag her back to bed. It would be an awakening in more ways than one, he suspected.
    It would be wise to spend the day in making a straw pallet for him to sleep on during the coming night…but he had no intention of being wise. Tonight he would retract his gentlemanly promise. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know who he was. Whoever he was, he would make it right for her.
    Tonight she would be his.

Chapter Three

    E llie swept out the ash and charcoal from last night’s fire and began to set a new one, her hands moving mechanically, her mind reliving the wondrously delicious sensations she had experienced at his hands a few moments earlier. His hands… She felt herself blush, again, thinking of where his hands had been, so big and capable… touching her with such tenderness…and creating such sensations. She had never felt anything so…so…
    It made her want to weep again, at the beauty of it…and the frustration.
    The wood shavings which remained from his whittling smouldered, then smoked. She blew on them gently and flames licked at the wood. He’d built a fire inside her, a fire which still smouldered within her. She watched curl after curl of wood smoulder, then burst into brilliant flame. A moment of splendour, then each one crumbled into grey ash. Was that what it would be like to be possessed by him? One moment of glory, followed by a lifetime of regret? Or would it build into a more permanent fire, one with deep hot coals?

    She filled the big black kettle with water and swung it on to the lowest hook. Hastily, because he might come dowat any minute, she washed herself with soap and cold water and dressed before the fire. The kettle soon began to steam and she set the porridge to cook, stirring it rhythmically, her mind dreamily recalling the sensation of waking up in his arms.
    Rat-tat-tat!
    Ellie jumped. Someone at the door at