Very wrong. Places lit by faintly smoldering tallow lanterns meant lying shivering under a blanket Kara could spit through. They didn’t mean lying flat on her back. Naked, yes. But under a wonderfully, luxuriant covering of heavy, thick animal fur, and something—something hard-angled but warm. Something she felt the urge to press her lips to. Something she just did—him, oh Jesus God. His arm fastened around her as if she was his and woe-betide anyone taking her away again.She closed her eyes, edged a breath. What had been in that whiskey she’d finally 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 fell into the category of blessed.What was she thinking about? No, really. And not just that. How could she possibly stay here now?She edged a foot out. The shingle floor was here somewhere if she just felt for it.
