Her face immediately became shuttered, those bright eyes dimmed, and as she hugged herself for warmth, she avoided looking at him, and that was the last thing he wanted. She was the strangest, most intriguing woman he'd ever met, and he wanted more of her, not less. And as he watched her more closely than he had before, he noticed that she was shaking. Without another word, he stalked over to the bed where she was sitting, grabbed a hold of the edge of it and dragged it over to sit in front of the fire, then reached into the saddle bag that had yet to be opened and pulled out a blanket, forcibly wrapping her up in it and hauling her down on the bed, molding her to him spoon fashion, with her closest to the fire. She shot back up as if she was on a spring, and he put her back in her place each time, but on the third instance, his patience—for which he had never really been known—had reached its end. "Cimmy stop.
