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He caught her hand, tucked it between them and

held her in place with one arm while he tugged up the sheet and the duvet.

She was still shaking.

Nerves, rage, fear… Whatever it was, he had to stop it.

Matthew drew her flush against his body. She fought hard, wriggling in his embrace, but he held her tight, stroked his hand down her back, then brushed her tangled curls from her forehead.

Little by little, she stopped fighting him.

He felt the chill seep from her body.

Felt her tremors slow.

And felt, sweet Jesus, felt the wonder of having her in his arms again.

He shut his eyes. Dipped his nose into her hair and inhaled its scent. The aroma shot through his blood. A magnum of Dom Perignon couldn’t have had a more powerful effect.

Her heart was beating hard against his.

Once, years ago, when he was eight or nine, still innocent of the world’s evils, he’d been riding the ranch with Cam and Alex. They were playing a game they loved, pretending to be Comanche warriors, proud descendents of the mother they hardly remembered.

Matthew’s horse had snorted and reared.

Even then, he was a good rider. He’d steadied the animal, checked around—rattlesnakes were always a threat and horses were terrified of them—and saw, in the grass just ahead, not a snake but a nest.

It was a small, commonplace thing made of twigs and dead grass, but it held a miracle. A tiny, defenseless, unfledged bird.

He’d dismounted, taken the baby carefully in his hand and felt its tiny heart racing with terror.

None of them knew what to do. Finally he’d put the nest into a tree, dug up a couple of worms and put them in beside the bird.

When he went back, two days later, the tiny creature lay motionless, its heart forever stilled.

Now, all these years later, Mia’s heart raced with fear, just like that baby bird’s.

Maybe she was all the things Hamilton had said. Or maybe there were reasons to explain whatever she’d done. Maybe all he had to do was ask her…

Matthew swallowed hard.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

He wasn’t a saint. He’d done things he wouldn’t even admit to himself.

“Mia,” he said huskily, “baby, I’m sorry I frightened you.”

She looked up at him, eyes wet and glittering with tears.

“Douglas lied to you,” she said in a thready whisper.

“Never mind. I don’t have the right to sit in judgment on you.”

“You’d have every right, if I’d tried to smuggle cocaine.” Her voice broke. “I didn’t. I never smuggled drugs. Never!”

“Hush.”

Matthew cupped her face and kissed the tears from her eyes. He brushed his lips over hers. Then he drew her close and rocked her in his arms.