She straightened and crossed her arms. “I can’t sleep with you,” she blurted.
… “As you please.”
“As you please?” She stepped back, the rough wood of the bench bumping her upper calf. She’d braced herself for a battle and now felt oddly deflated. “You aren’t going to try to talk me into it?”
“I need not talk women into lying with me.

She led them to their pallets, again encircled by other pallets. She sat down, sighing at her aching muscles, and caught his gaze. “You may, er, wrap your arms around me if that will make you feel I am safer.”
He chuckled--a hoarse chuckle, rusty, but a chuckle nonetheless. She’d take it.
“May I indeed?” He lay beside her and pulled her back against him, settling her head on his arm, bunching the other hide up to use as a pillow. “If I must.” His warm sigh tickled across her neck. “After all, I must ensure that pinkie does not wander.”
Would Robert never let her forget that?

He leaned his head against the rock. Christ, when was the last time he’d seen the humor in life? And now, of all places, in an enemy camp, with a strange woman who made him burn. Burn with desire. Burn with need. A desire and need not only for her and her body, but for something he couldn’t quite name.

She flapped her hands, anxious energy coursing through her. “How can you be so calm?”
He got to his feet, unfolding with an easy grace. He held out a hand, his dark eyes focused solemnly on hers. “Come with me.”
“For what?”
“That’s part of the lesson.” Was it her imagination, or did a twinkle of humor stir in those eyes? “Center yourself, and grab onto the here and now.”
That made no sense—what was he now, Sir Medieval Zen Master? But she slipped her hand into his strong, calloused one. He hauled her up until she bumped into his chest. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face until she looked in his eyes.
“Listen to the world around you. Hear the birds? Hear the small animals scurrying? You are in this moment, this moment only, and sometimes that’s all you can do, all you can be.” His finger pulled away, brushing against her skin, and he tapped her nose, stepping away.

Her pinkie took matters into its own, er, pinkie, and moved oh-so-slightly, grazing his skin. His pinkie, judging by the shape and texture.
Blood rushed and pounded through her veins, flushing her skin. This could not, in any way, be explained as an accidental touch. But he could feign sleep if he wasn’t interested. Did she want him to do that?
What was she doing?
She commanded her pinkie to drop, and thankfully, it obeyed.
A jolt shot through her as his finger made a query, and the need clarified. The need represented her desire for some measure of control. Control over her general situation. Control over her attraction. She answered with a gentle finger stroke along his calloused, warm skin.
A sharp breath pierced the dark air.

Here, sleep with your back against me. I shall protect you better this way.”
She nodded, shuffled closer, and leaned back against him. Her unique womanly scent washed over him, and he fortified his resolve, though having her so close on a bed of furs fired his blood. She dragged her fur up, and he draped his extra across, tucking it in around her shoulders and arms.
“I do not fancy having one of them lying next to you. Besides, I wish not for your pinkie to wander.