“Oh, very well.” She dragged her blankets beside his. “There. Satisfied?”
He answered her sarcasm in kind. “How gracious you are.” Nathan set some stones around the small fire to keep it from spreading and saw to their horses before he went over to their blankets. He looked down at Lydia, all bundled up in her bedding, and shook his head again.
“What is it now?” she asked wearily.
“The idea is to share the blankets and share our heat under them.” He hunkered down, yanked hard on one corner of Lydia’s blankets, and rolled her out of it.
“Nathan! What do you think you’re—”
“Don’t press me, Lydia,” he said tersely, a rough edge to his tone. “I’m still not happy that you’re here, but since you are, you’ll do things my way. Is that clear?”
“Perfectly.”
“Good. Now get off the ground before you catch your death. I’ll fix our bed the way I want it.” He snapped open two blankets, laid them out smoothly, and told Lydia to lie down. Stripping off his jacket, he gave it to her. “Cover yourself with this.”
“I have a coat, Nathan. What will you—”
“Do it,” he fairly growled. “That’s better.” Getting their saddles, Nathan put them down to rest their heads on. He lay down beside her, fitting his body to the stiff contours of hers, spoon-fashion, and pulled two heavier blankets over them. He tucked them around Lydia and himself as best he could. “I can still feel you shivering,” he said.
Lydia felt him move closer, something she didn’t think was possible. The trembling she knew he felt was not entirely due to the cold. His arm was heavy across her waist and his breath was warm against her hair. She tried to stay as still as possible until she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Nathan?”
His sigh was long on suffering. His voice was short on patience. “What is it?”
“There’s a stone digging into my hip.”
“Move it.”
Lydia shifted, and her buttocks pressed directly against Nathan’s groin. Even through her skirt and his jeans she felt his arousal.
“I meant, move the stone,” he said, gritting his teeth. “Not move your backside.”
“Oh.” She shifted again, heard him groan and swear softly. “Sorry. I’ll get it in just a moment. Almost. There.” She pulled it out, a little disappointed to feel how small it was in the palm of her hand. She would have sworn she was lying on Gibraltar. Lydia pitched it away and it rattled the scrub brush.
“What was that?” Nathan reached for his gun.
“I tossed the stone.”
He relaxed slowly. “God, I may have to beat you before the night’s over.”
“Please don’t be angry.”
“Angry? Angry hardly describes what I’m feeling right now.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know it was going to be like this. So…so frustrating.”
“You didn’t know? Lydia, how can you say that? I’ve been sleeping on the floor of our bedroom for the better part of two weeks because we know what happens when we’re this close.”
Lydia turned over and faced him. “Show me what happens.”
Nathan sucked in his breath. “Don’t tease me.”
“I’m not. Please, Nathan, if you don’t kiss me, I’ll...”
“What?”
“I’ll kiss you.” She closed the distance between their lips. Her mouth was warm and hard and hungry. Lydia’s hands touched his lean cheeks, keeping him still while her lips tasted his. Her tongue flicked at his upper lip, traced the line of it. She moved over him, kissing his jaw, his cheeks, his brow. Her breath was moist and sweet. She kissed his neck, nipping his flesh with her teeth. The soft, excited groan she heard was encouragement enough. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, spread the material, and delved beneath it. Lowering her head, she placed tiny, tempting kisses on his chest. His heart was racing and his breathing was harsh and uneven, catching as he anticipated the touch of her mouth and the caress of her fingers.
“Lydia?” Nathan stilled the restless and eager exploration of her hands. “Are you certain? Do you know what—”
