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“You’re hopeless,” she said.

He shifted closer, and she raised a forefinger at him. “I saw that.”

“Saw what? I didn’t do anything.”

She looked at his arm that had now clearly crossed the imaginary line she’d made in the middle of the pillow.

“See?” She pointed to his arm. “You moved.”

He raised his chin. “I did not. The ruddy feather pillow sank.”

She laughed again.

She knew they couldn’t kiss that night. No way. No chance. But surely just a touch would be enough to satisfy the flame in her heart, the longing in her soul to be near him.

Just…one touch.

She focused her gaze on the horses running across the screen, but after another moment, Matthew’s arm drew closer to where hers rested only inches away.

“Just shifting,” he said again.

She smiled, shaking her head, though the magnetism Matthew exuded from his sheer presence was undeniable. She didn’t know how much longer she could keep away from him.

A few moments later, his eyes fell on her. She fought meeting his gaze for as long as she could before chancing a glance at him, only to have him look away before direct eye contact could be made.

She eyed him curiously, then focused again on the screen, only to have him immediately return to staring at her.

With a smile, she glanced at him again, but his eyes darted away once more. By the third time of her attempting to catch his stares, he leaned closer to her.

“Hey,” he whispered. “Why do you keep staring at me?”

She turned to him with an open mouth, ready to defend herself and accuse him of the same thing, but the sheer delight in his blue eyes made her spirits fly.

“Fine,” she said, pulling her arm away from the pillow altogether and folding it across her lap. “I was considering holding your hand until you did that, but now I don’t think you deserve it.”

He grinned. “That would’ve been very forward of you if you had, my lady.”

“As if you weren’t hinting and wanting to do the same the entire time.”

“Not at all.” He raised his chin, then shifted his arm on the pillow so his palm was face-up. “This would’ve been a hint.”

She looked at his hand, his fingers wiggling discreetly as he kept his arm in place.

Her heart stuttered. Now he wasn’t hinting. He was outright, blatantly requesting.

Excitement raced through her blood, her breath catching in her throat. Could she? Should she?

His fingers were callused and strong, long and masculine. Exactly as a knight’s should be. She could only imagine how her smaller hand would feel, held securely in his own.

If she did hold his hand, that would be admitting outright that she felt something for him—an attachment, an attraction, a desire to be near him. Would that be so bad now, though, what with him basically admitting the same right now?

She waited a moment longer, focusing hard on the movie as Jim Craig continued his work with the horse, wondering if Matthew might just give in and take her hand instead of her having to do anything, but she knew deep down, he was giving her the option to choose for herself.

After another moment, her heart pounding against her chest, she couldn’t take it any longer. With a sigh—if only to make it seem like she didn’t want to be near him so badly—she unfolded her arms and laced her fingers through his.

An explosion of heat blasted through her skin, tingling sensations in every nerve up and down her arm sailing swiftly like a windsurfer across the sea.

And when he responded, his fingers wrapping around the back of her hand, holding securely and gently, she couldn’t draw in a steady breath.