Kissing a woman the way he’d kissed this one…
His intruder.
His beautiful intruder.
His terrified intruder.
And she was that. Terrified. Not of having been caught stealing. She wasn’t a thief. He knew that now. She was scared of something else, something more….
But not of him.
When he’d kissed her she’d kissed him back. Melted in his arms, her mouth hot on his. He could have taken her then….
The storm was still raging, the power was off, the roads were undoubtedly blocked and here he was, pacing like a caged tiger, getting himself as worked up as a schoolboy and over what?
A kiss.
He had more important things to worry about. The horses, for instance. He hadn’t given them a thought in hours.
Lightning flashed outside the window as he headed for the kitchen, shoved his feet into dry boots, grabbed a rain slicker and a flashlight, then went out the back door at a trot. There were only a few animals in the barn and most had calm dispositions, but the intensity of the storm might have spooked them. He’d talk to them, feed them. That was lots better than wasting time thinking about a woman he’d never see after tomorrow.
Keeping busy was, as always, the ticket to success.
The horses were fine.
They whinnied their greetings, butted velvet noses against his shoulder as he went from stall to stall. He gave them buckets of oats, dug a handful of mints from a box near the door, gave each animal the much-coveted treat, refilled water buckets, spoke softly and reassuringly. A barn cat meowed for attention and wound sinuously around his ankles; he bent down, stroked it, smiled at its thousand-decibel purr.
Eventually, despite his best efforts, there was nothing left to do but return to the house.
He dripped water over the mudroom floor, hung up the slicker, toed off his boots and headed for the living room. The house was cold and getting colder by the minute. Even the warm spot before the fireplace seemed narrower than before.
What about the bedroom? It had to be like Siberia.
So what? Sienna had his robe. His bed. She was warm enough. Besides, that wasn’t his problem. He’d given her food, shelter, something dry to wear….
“Hell,” he muttered, and headed down the dark hall, candle in hand.
He’d knock. Wait for her response. Better to wake her than run the risk of letting her freeze off that cute little ass.
He reached the bedroom door. Took a couple of breaths. Knocked. Nothing. He knocked again. “Sienna?” No reply. He tried again, louder this time. “Sienna? Are you okay?”
Still nothing.
Jesse started to turn away. A muscle jumped in his jaw. He tried the doorknob but she’d followed orders and thrown the bolt.
What he hadn’t bothered mentioning was that the bolt didn’t always work.
He blew out the candle and entered the room quietly. He didn’t want to scare her, he only wanted to make sure she was all right.
The room was dark as pitch—she’d closed the verticals. A protective instinct; he understood it even if he’d never have followed it. Being able to see the enemy coming was vital to survival.
It took a few minutes until his vision adjusted. Still, the soft sound of her breathing, the delicate scent of woman and wild-flowers told him where she was before he saw her.
Jesse narrowed his eyes. Not that he gave a damn about any of that. The point was, she hadn’t done as he’d told her, after all. Instead of getting into bed and piling on the blankets, she’d fallen asleep in a chair. She looked uncomfortable, her head tilted at an awkward angle, her long legs tucked under her. And she had to be cold. The room was cold enough for him to see the exhalations of his breath.
“Sienna,” he said sharply. She sighed, shifted in her sleep. Grinding his teeth, he put the back of his hand to her cheek and swore under his breath. Her skin was almost painfully cool.
“Idiot,” he muttered, but the word lacked conviction. She wasn’t stupid. She was proud. Independent. Determined to do things on her own terms. God knew, he could relate to that.
Well, he’d run out of choices. He had to do what was logical. What necessity demanded. Take her out of this refrigerator and keep her warm.
Scooping her into his arms, duvet and all, was easy. She was light, boneless, and though she made a little sound of protest, she didn’t awaken as he carried her from the room. Her head fell against his shoulder. Her hair tickled his nose, and he gave in to the urge to inhale its fragrance as he made his way to the living room.
He put her on the sofa, grabbed a couple of the blankets he’d left her earlier and arranged three of them on the floor before the hearth, spread the remaining two over the improvised mattress and folded them back. Then he gathered Sienna in his arms and lay down with her against him, both of them wrapped in the duvet and now covered, too, by the soft wool blankets.