Keelan tossed in her bed like a dingy on a stormy sea. Even the quiet that followed after the tavern closed didn’t invite sleep. She’d shed her breeches, choosing to sleep in the shirt Landon had given her the last time she’d stayed at The Whistling Pig. The air was still hot and humid. Even the open window didn’t lure the slightest breath of a breeze. It wasn’t the heat, however, keeping sleep at bay.
There was one single moment in time that would not rest in her mind. Before he left, Landon had paused with his hand on the knob and studied her. She’d stood in the center of the small room, her hands clenching the linen shirt over her heart. His eyes fastened on her face and his brows drew a tiny bit closer in consternation, as if the truth was written on her skin.
Remember me.
Remember
