She tried, knowing that it was important to regain her strength, but she couldn't relax. A fever burned inside as she watched him repairing one of the snares. It wasn't a fever caused by infection, unless love was infectious. If it was, she hoped Reilly caught the disease, too. No matter how often she closed her eyes, they opened, her gaze strayed to Reilly. Her senses would tingle with the awareness of him. The ache to be in his arms would start again and all thought of rest immediately vanished. It wasn't any use. She stopped trying to force inactivity upon herself. She recognized the inherent temptation of their present situation, the two of them alone in a miniature paradise, the succulent apple waiting for the bite that would lead her into true womanhood. Pushing herself up from the cool carpet of grass, Leah briskly rubbed her hands over her hipbones. Reilly's questioning look flickered curiously over her determined expression. "I'm going to wash my clothes down at the stream," she announced.
