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Taking a deep breath, Kathryn bade the men goodnight and walked toward the abandoned building.

When she entered the open doorway, it took her a moment to acclimate. It was just as she might have expected of a stone farmhouse. One room. More like a stable than anything, with a wooden ladder leading to a loft high above her head.

“We sleep up there.”

She spun, startled, only then realizing Neill had followed her.

“We?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Did you believe I’d have you sleep in there alone?”

She had thought that very thing and was relieved to learn it wasn’t so.

“Kathryn, have you been so mistreated . . .” He stopped. “Nay, do not answer that.”

“Why?”

“’Tis not my concern. But you’re under my protection now.” He nodded toward the ladder. “I will follow you in a moment.”

She blinked, realizing he was giving her time to prepare her pallet. Though they’d slept in close proximity before, it seemed more . . . intimate without the presence of his companions. But she supposed it did make sense. If they were attacked . . .

“Your companions do not mind the prospect of being attacked first?” she blurted, stepping off the ladder.

The wooden floor creaked beneath her feet.

Kathryn dropped her belongings and laid out the bedroll, wishing she had straw or grass to stuff it with. They may be sleeping indoors, but the hard floor would be no more forgiving than the dirt mattress on which they’d been sleeping.

“Nay,” he called up, laughter in his voice. “They rather enjoy it.”

Well, it had been a silly question deserving of a silly answer. She had just enough time to remove her tunic, kirtle, and boots before the sound of the creaking ladder reached her ears.

She quickly scrambled atop her bedroll and pulled the thin blanket to her shoulders. Though her shift still covered her arms, Kathryn felt bare, as if she wore nothing at all. Especially under his gaze.

When Neill carried his belongings toward her, laying his own bedroll down not far from hers, Kathryn turned and curled to the side . . . as if she could ever possibly fall asleep. She listened to the sound of his sword hitting the floor, the straps of his leather boots being undone.

“I can move further away,” he said, as if sensing her uncertainty.

“No, ’tis fine.” She did not have to turn to look to know where he was lying now. She could sense his warmth, his presence.

“I didn’t wish to be too close to the ladder.”

She shifted carefully toward him, the blanket still to her chin.

He was exactly where she’d sensed him to be, positioned directly between her and the entry point for any possible attack.

“I suppose you’ve learned to consider strategy?”

Despite herself, she found her eyes lowering to take him in. His loose shirt covered a pair of linen braies, neither covered by a blanket. The opening of his shirt exposed just enough for Kathryn to see a glimpse of his bare chest under it.

“I have.”

“No blanket?” she blurted.

“None.”

Neill turned onto his side, facing her, and propped his head in his hands.

“You’re preserving enough modesty for both of us.”