After hours of trying to imagine making love to him, her eyes finally slid closed one too many times.

Near nightfall, she woke, still half asleep, remaining in position until she toppled to her side still in a ball. She could have sworn she heard him chuckle from across the room.

She cracked open her eyes and found him with his hair wet, drying off his very naked body beside a tub. He'd lit only one lamp, probably to let her sleep, but she could see his sculpted muscles tensing and flexing as he took the towel and ran it over his neck, chest, and privates. Continuing to feign sleep, she studied him through her eyelashes, until, to her great disappointment, he finally pulled on his trousers.

"I know you're awake," he said.

With an exasperated sigh, she sat up. "If you knew I was awake and watching, then why didn't you turn away instead of continuing directly in front of me?"

"I dinna hear any complaints."

The man didn't have a modest bone in his body! Yet she wouldn't argue with him because complaining had been the farthest thing from her mind. "So how long have you been up?"

"Not long."

She twined her hair, knotting it behind her.

"How many were there?"

"Three."

"You killed them?"

"Aye."

He didn't look proud of the fact. She'd learned after the second attack that MacCarrick wasn't bloodthirsty; he was blood weary. "Why didn't you even duck?"

"Would no' make a difference with them. But you would no' know I dinna duck unless you had no' been down as I told you."

"How could I not look? Please don't leave me like that again. I can help you." This amused him and she bristled. "I do believe I took out one of the two on the road to Toulouse. If you gave me a pistol—"

He froze. "I never want to see you with a gun in your hand, Anna."

"Why not?"

"You were no' meant to," he said simply.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

His gaze caught hers, and she saw his eyes were bleak. "It means people like me were put on the earth so people like you never have to do bad things and suffer from them."

After tense moments, she felt a confusing sadness seeping into her and turned away.

As he finished dressing, she asked, "How long will we stay here?"

"We have to wait till the morning tide to cross, then we'll take the train to London."

A train. She'd always dreamed of riding one, but they were rare in France, impossible in Andorra. Now she would, and she couldn't care less.

"I'll go downstairs and get food for you. And a fresh bath, if you'd like it."

She nodded absently, her mind on other things, such as how reluctant she was to see him go now, and how one might go about seducing a Scottish mercenary. Just like any other man, she supposed, which left her no better off.

"I thought you'd be ready by now," Court said as he began forcing himself out of the doorway. The room was darkened but for one flickering lamp, and she was sitting at the headboard of the bed, clad in only her thin shift and a new bandage.

He'd given her plenty of time to bathe and dress, fearing he might see any part of her unclothed, and a glimpse of an ankle at this point would pain him. When he'd been assured she was safe, the memories from the coach began clawing at him. Even as he'd slept, he'd dreamed of a different ending entirely and woke heavy and aching for it. He'd even dreamed she'd said she wanted to be with him, though he'd realized on the ride back to her that she'd never meant to make love to him in the carriage. He'd pushed and had heard and seen what he wanted because he wanted her so badly.

And now to see her in nothing but a sheer piece of material, with her hair loose…

"Wait, MacCarrick. I need to speak with you."

He swallowed hard. "We can once you're dressed."

"Will you please come in?"

Why had he ever wanted her to learn to ask? Probably because he hadn't known it about himself that he couldn't deny her. He shut the door, then sat at the foot of the bed. "What do you need?"

"I've had a lot of time to think," she said softly.

He stared, dumbfounded, as she began crawling toward him.

When her breasts moved with each movement closer, he rubbed a hand over his mouth. "Uh-huh." If he'd known this was what he'd be returning to, he'd have been quicker about his tasks.

"This is a dangerous time for us."

She'd always had that accent that drove him mad, but when she purred the words…Her voice made him hard as hell.

"Aye, it is." Though the urge to pull her to him and get his hands on that body was overwhelming, he remained still, breaths shallow, curious to see what she'd do next.

"And I don't want to wish I'd experienced something. Not when I can. Now. With you."

"With me," he agreed mindlessly. She was in bed with him. She wanted him, a rough Highlander. This was no longer a dream.

Perhaps it should stay that way….

"Anna, if you're doin' this because you were afraid when I was gone or because you feel beholden tae me…then…" Court, what the bloody hell are you saying? He shook his head hard. "As if I give a damn why. Come tae me."

She did. When she sat up on her knees before him and her lips were close to his, she whispered, "I'm asking you to make love to me."

He'd been shot. Undoubtedly, they'd gotten him.

Yet he wasted no time rolling her shift up her body and working it off her, fearing she'd change her mind. She followed his rapt gaze, then quickly glanced up. At first she was bold, but as he was unable to stop gaping at her wholly naked body, she brushed her hair forward to spill over her breasts and tugged the cover before her.

He simply shook his head at her, slowly, in warning.

"B-But you're staring."

He pulled the material from her, then drew her down flat on the bed, running his fingers through her hair to skim the soft curls to the side. "I'm starin' because you're more beautiful than I could ever imagine and it gives me pleasure tae look at you, all of you. I'm starin' because I never thought I would." His voice was unrecognizable. He sounded like a beast. With her golden skin and plump breasts and tiny waist, she looked like an offering.

"I've never been unclothed this long outside of a bath."

"You canna be shy with me."

"Why not?"

"Because it's me." He swept another greedy glance down the length of her body and hissed a curse. "Woman, I doona even know where to begin."

She bit her bottom lip. "It'd be easier for me to be unclothed if you were as well."

He didn't say a word, just drew off his boots, then snagged his shirt over his head without unbuttoning it. He stood at the foot of the bed and unfastened his trousers, easing them over his erection before they could drop.

"Oh, my…" she murmured, her eyes bright. She sat up, as she might at a picnic, her legs bent and tucked to her bottom. Still the lady.

He put his knee on the bed, preparing to go to her, nervous that he was about to take this woman.

"Wait."

Of course, wait. He closed his eyes in frustration. What was he doing imagining that he was about to make love to her? He should have known she'd come to her senses. Had to have known his luck had never run this high—

"Will you stay there?"

He opened his eyes to see her coming to him.

"You are completely unclothed, and I want to…" When she was on her knees in front of him, her face still close to his because of the high bed, she leaned in to whisper, "May I just learn you first?"

He tried to keep the disbelief from his face and pulled his knee back to stand fully. "You can do whatever you want tae."

Biting her lip, she put her hands to his face, brushing her thumbs over it, gently tracing the scar at his temple. She ran her soft palms down to his neck and shoulders, then along his arms. She tilted her head at his hands as if she didn't quite know what to do with them, then placed them on her shoulders as if she were putting them away. "Let's keep them there for now."