Lyssa stopped. “You keep your eyes to yourself.”
“Yes, Miss Harrell,” he responded dutifully, and she knew he was implying that she hadn’t. She hurried down to the lake before he could see the heated glow on her cheeks.
However, close to an hour later, after a leisurely washing, she did feel better. Her breath was freshened and the soap had been a luxury after the past two days. She was a bit embarrassed she had little to return to him. Of course, she’d not jumped in the lake naked the way he had. No, she’d maintained some decorum…although as a child, she used to swim with her father. Even cold, the water had been inviting.
The space of time by the lake gave her back her poise. After all, other than a glimpse of bare buttocks and his naked chest, she’d seen nothing, well,damaging.
No, what held in her memory was waking up beside him, of having her body cradled in his warmth…and of feeling his obvious arousal.
She had been confused when she woke. She hadn’t realized what had happened. But after having tracked him to the lake, she instinctively understood exactly what had been poking into her backside—and she was not displeased.
Mr. Campion was the most handsome man she’d ever met. If he were in Society he’d be handsome enough to turn more than a few feminine heads amongst theton, but nothing must happen between them. He was what she’d overheard one matron describe as a “guilty pleasure,” a man one could dally with after she’d given her husband an heir.
Of course, Lyssa had no doubt her father would murder her himself if she were to lie with, of all things, a penniless Irishman. Whether she was married or not.
In the way of those who hungered for social status, he’d become more of a stickler than the stick-lers.
However, such closeness as she and Mr. Campion had shared waking this morning was to be expected, she rationalized, and she was too honest to think he’d been taking liberties with her person. After all, she’d been the one determined to keep watch and he’d been right where she’d placed him the night before. If anything, she had been the one to move in her sleep toward him.
Mr. Campion had taken time in her absence to continue his toilet, and his clean-shaven jaw only served to make him more striking. He’d built a small fire to boil water for tea. Pulling a pouch with tea leaves from his magic knapsack, he brewed the tea in a tin cup.
“Would you like a cup?” he asked.
“It would be nice. What is for breakfast? Dried beef?”
“Funny you should be hungry for some,” he teased back, offering her a strip of it.
They shared the tin cup of tea, an act more intimate than waking in his arms. Lyssa watched the way his fingers curved around the cup handle. A man’s hands said a lot about him. His moved with grace and efficiency, whether he was putting out the fire or cleaning the tin cup. And his nails were clean.
They started walking. Her feet felt fine. The salve had done its trick and her shoes were breaking in.
The road did not make for easy walking. After last night’s rain, there was deep mud in many places but they managed to find ground high enough to travel.
She noticed he had slowed his pace a bit, a kindness she was truly thankful for. However, he didn’t seem in the mood for conversation. His earlier lightheartedness had vanished, replaced by his relentless determination to travel fast.
All right. She didn’t have to talk either.
However, after about a half hour of silence, she could bite her tongue no longer, and talking would make the time pass faster.
“Do you think we’ll make Amleth Hall by tomorrow?”
“It’s doubtful.”
More silence.
She fished her mind for something to draw him out. “I’m sorry I fell asleep last night. I meant to stand watch.”
A muscle hardened in his jaw. “I was the one keeping guard.”
“You can’t go days on end without sleep and expect your body not to rebel.”
“Making excuses for me, Miss Harrell?”
His cynical tone could have been a warning, but she sensed the anger wasn’t directed toward her. “No, I’m being factual, Mr. Campion. And no harm came of our lapse.”
“Do you always rationalize, Miss Harrell?”
Lyssa stumbled. “I beg your pardon?”
