Something was wrong. Very wrong. Places lit by faintly smoldering tallow lanterns meant lying shivering under a blanket Kara could spit through. They didn't mean lying nicely curled. Naked, yes. But under a wonderfully, luxuriant covering of heavy, thick animal fur, and something—something hard-angled but warm curled around her. Something she'd such an urge to turn and press her lips to. Something she just did—him. His arm fastened around her as if she was his and woe-betide anyone taking her away again.
She closed her eyes. What had been in that whiskey they'd drunk last night, that even now, she couldn't think, couldn't move, couldn't remember a blessed thing.
No. Actually she could. She could remember several things. In fact she could remember everything. Not a single one of them was
