Page 68

At the white of his shirt pulled tight across his shoulders, clinging now that it’s wet, outlining more than I need to be noticing. At the easy strength in his frame. At the obscene unfairness of him having no notion whatsoever of the effect he’s having on me.

I turn away quickly and cross to the hearth.

“Fire,” I say briskly, crouching down and reaching for the poker.

I busy myself with the embers, feeding them into flame, giving my hands something to do and my eyes somewhere safe to land. The cabin warms slowly, smoke curling up the chimney, and I tell myself I’m focused on that.

I’m not thinking about the way he looked a moment ago.

Not even a little.

The cabin smells of damp wood and old smoke, the kind that settles into your clothes whether you invite it or not.

I stand, shrug out of my outer layer, and hang it on a peg by the door. I hesitate, glancing down at the linen beneath—soaked through and clinging in ways I’d rather not examine too closely.

“Turn for a moment,” I say, tugging at the ties. “I need to dry this properly.”

He turns at once, much too quickly. “Of course.”

I fumble at the fastenings behind my neck, fingers stiff with cold. “Actually—” I stop, then sigh. “Could you…? The ties. I can’t quite manage them with numb hands.”

There’s a pause.

I feel him step closer before I hear him, the warmth of him at my back, raising gooseflesh along my arms.

“Hold the front,” he says carefully.

His fingers are gentle, all business, not lingering, though the lightest brush of his knuckles against my spine sends an unwelcome shiver through me. The knot loosens. I slip free of the damp dress, left only in the cream-coloured shift I’m suddenly grateful I chose instead of my usual white one. Gathering the soaked fabric in my hands, I move nearer the hearth and drape it carefully beside the fire to dry, already feeling the heat beginning to bloom against my chilled skin.

“Thank you,” I say.

He clears his throat. “Any time I can be useful without ending up unclothed in a creek.”

When I turn back, he’s shirtless again.

I register it—the breadth of his shoulders, the water still clinging to him—and then purposely don’t dwell. Instead, with careful movements, I drag the soaked shoulders of my shift down beneath my arms, baring my shoulders to the fire in hopes the heat might chase away the chill faster. I lower myself by the fire before he can notice my rose coloured nipples I’m all too aware of. I tug my arms in close, grateful for the shadows and the heat alike.

Behind me, I hear the faint creak of the floorboards before the warmth of him nears at my back. He leans down slightly, close enough that his voice brushes the shell of my ear when he speaks.

“Lift your arms a moment,” he says quietly.

I do, and he pulls a long, dark strip of linen around me that he must have found somewhere in the cottage. Carefully, he winds it beneath my arms and across my chest before securing it tightly at my back. The touch should feel practical. Innocent. Yet every restrained brush of his fingers against my skin sends warmth skittering through me hotter than the very real fire crackling in front of me.

And then, all too suddenly, he steps away once he’s certain it will hold.

A moment later, he comes to sit beside me with a fresh shirt on, close enough that I feel the shift of air as he settles. He holds his hands out toward the flames, palms open, shoulders angled politely away, as if he’s trying not to crowd me even in the small space.

The quiet settles easily enough—companionable, unforced—and the question slips out before I’ve weighed it properly.

“Tell me more about your parents,” I say.

He answers with a fond smile on his face. “They were Scottish. Immigrants. Left everything behind for what my father liked to call a better life.”

“In America?” I ask, letting the word carry its own opinion.

He huffs a laugh. “Aye. He fought for independence there. Believed in it fiercely. Said a man ought to choose his own future, even if it frightened him.” His smile tugs at one corner. “He used to say he liked being on the winning side for once.”

I glance at him. “It must have frightened him.”