Chapter Seventeen
"Wh-what?? Tawnyetta stuttered, partly from being cold, but mostly from shock.
Michael gestured to his soaking wet pants. "We have to get out of these wet clothes."
"I'm not–I'm not–,"she tried to speak, but was overcome with another wave of shivers.
"This is not the time to be modest, lass," Michael said.
She couldn't speak. Instead, she shook her head meekly.
"Here," Michael said as he produced a blanket out of nowhere and held it out to her. "You can cover up with this." His brow wrinkled as he watched her body trembling. "I'll not have you catch your death." He crouched down in front of her, placing the blanket over her knees. He reached up to the top button of her shirt and paused, a silent request for permission. "I promise not to look," he said.
She tried to
