Was this a dream? Tessa did not know as his arms folded her to his chest. She felt the strength of him and the powerful beat of his heart. Thrilling pleasure spun through every inch of her. A pleasure that made her feel alive and whole and so miraculously wanted. Even as desire filled her veins, it did not distort her reasoning. Jonah Hunter didn't want her, she knew that. She ought to step away and move out of his embrace.

And yet as his kiss grew more demanding and his mouth harder and faster over hers, she surrendered, melting like frost before sun. Nothing in her quiet sensible life had ever felt like this. And considering she was the most feared spinster in the village, she knew without a doubt she would never be kissed like this again. So she was secretly glad when he did not move away. Just for this once she wanted to know the way a man touched a woman. Feel a passion she'd heard about in shy whispers from her few married friends.

"Tessa."

She felt his big body tense. Her entire body cooled when she met his gaze.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, releasing her, stepping away as if he'd touched something distasteful.

The old pain wrapped itself around her heart. No man was going to love her. She'd waited for love, believed in it for so long. All those years tending poor sick Mother, she dreamed it might be possible. One of the handsome men from town, one she saw at meeting. Sometimes a man would smile at or stop to exchange pleasantries on the common and her silly old heart would start hoping…

Aye, simple foolishness. She'd turned twenty-six this winter. Far too old to dream of romance and passion.

"I suppose now you think-" He sighed, raking his hair with one hand, long dark strands falling through his frustrated fingers.

"You cannot know what I think," she argued, far too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Want for him still sparked her blood.

"You think I would consider you-"

"I hate you, I truly do." She cut him off before he could say the hateful words. Nay, he would never consider marrying her. The hurt clutched her heart, such an old pain of being unwanted. "I would never want such a pompous ass for my husband."

"Believe me, I am no donkey, Tessa."

"Nay, you are worse." There was no such thing as love from a man with danger in his eyes. With her pulse thundering in her ears, she turned her back on him and steeled her heart. "I will need some fresh water."

"Tell me about your lover. He can't be Horace Walling. No woman would sneak through the night woods to meet with such a clod pate."

"You think that I-" She could not say it. Shock lodged in her throat.

"I know it," he corrected, eyes flashing. "No virgin kisses the way you do."

"But I-"

"Tell me," he demanded, towering over her powerful and bold, handsome enough to take her breath away and every last bit of her sense.

The memory of his kiss burned along her mouth. Dreams felt like that, fiery and heart stopping. Reality was different, disappointing and grim. The two could not mix. Hadn't she learned that by now?

"Tell you what?" Tears blurred her vision. His dark face swam, and she blinked. Two drops spilled down her cheeks, betraying her feelings. She would not let him see her vulnerable.

"Tell me where you learned to kiss like that," A grin whispered across his mouth, still glistening from their kiss.

It took all her willpower not to strike him. How dare he tease her? "You know damn well I have never kissed a man."

"Not even me, I suppose?" His dark brows drew taut. Muscles bunched along his whisker-rough jaw. "Do not tempt me, Tessa, else the entire village will know of your midnight adventures."

"Don't you dare." Her warning thrummed through her like hatred, hard and hot and terrifying.

"You start a rumor such as that, and you'll do more than ruin me."

"Mistress, you've done that on your own." His eyes narrowed, a devil's light glowing within.

"I despise you." She fetched a towel and tossed it at him. "You're not so fine a man as you think."

A wry grin twisted his mouth. "So, I was only good enough to save your life last night and convenient for you to tease with your experienced kisses?"

"You are nothing but a man of falsehoods, Hunter. You cannot hide that from me."

A thud ricocheted through the room. Tessa jumped. Jonah whirled. The youngest Hunter son stood in the threshold, surprise lighting his innocent brown eyes, a fallen chunk of wood at his feet.

"Thought you might need more wood for the fire," he croaked. "To keep Father warm."

When would she learn to keep her tongue? Andy Hunter now gazed at her as if she'd sprouted two heads. There was little wonder how she'd earned her reputation for being sharp-tongued. Jonah stood with an apology shimmering in his night-dark eyes.

"Yes, Andy, please bring in the wood." Wearily, Tessa eased down on the stool.

The youngest Hunter brother kept a wide distance from her as he stacked the sticks inside the fine brass container, then slipped from the room as if he expected her to cast a spell on him.

The old man lay breathing unevenly, but stable. He was holding his own. For now. Well, the poultice had cooled enough. She would clean off his chest and apply more. She could do little else until the surgeon came.

Aye, it would be best to keep her hands busy. Then she would not have to think about what she'd said, how she'd behaved. Shameful tears beat behind her eyelids. A lump thickened in her throat.

Jonah Hunter could tease her about her inexperience. It mattered little. He would find a pliable, pretty bride to make babies with. And she would be stuck in the marriage her grandfather had bought for her. Trapped in a nightmare she feared she might never wake from.


"She fell asleep about twenty minutes ago," Andy whispered, as if he were afraid to wake the notoriously sharp-tongued Tessa Bradford.

"I know." Jonah laid his hand over Father's. Heat buzzed at his fingers. The old man was much too hot.

Tessa had stacked cool, herb-scented compresses in a small washbasin, and he laid one across Father's brow before answering his brother. "Aside from a short trip home to fix her grandfather's family their supper, Tessa has been working here since midday without a single complaint. Look, 'tis nearly midnight now."

Where the hell is Thomas with the doctor? Fear drummed inside him. Father was desperately ill. Jonah sensed it might already be too late.

Tessa stirred, slumped in the chair by the fireplace. Well, he had to admire how hard she worked. He alone knew she'd not slept two nights in a row, and had no leisure to nap in the day between. She worked beyond exhaustion tending Father, worrying over his fever, easing the old man's struggle for air.

Light shimmered in her black-as-silk hair and washed her face, softening the fatigue written around her mouth. He studied those lips, generous cut and sweeter than wine. Who knew spinster Tessa Bradford could turn a man inside out with her kiss? The blood in his groin thickened.

"How's Father?" Andy approached the bed, dread and grief dark in his boyish eyes.

"Burning up." Jonah laid his hand against the old man's jaw. His skin felt too hot. His sleep was growing restless. "Damn it, Thomas should have returned by now. Where is that doctor?"

"Thomas is doing his best. I have no doubt about it."

"I should have gone." Anger smoldered in his chest like a long burning ember, flickering when exposed to air.

"That is right, big brother. You do everything bigger and better and faster than the rest of us." No accusation, but hard-edged truth sharpened Andy's voice. "Thomas is as capable as you. And he knows the night roads better. Does it pain you so much not to be the hero?"

A hero? Andy may speak truth, but he knew little of what was heroic. Nothing he'd done in the last ten years had been so, not facing death, not killing enemies of the Crown, not being responsible as men died beneath his command. Would his father die now?

"Let me spell you, Jonah." Tessa's voice came soft, sympathetic.

Perhaps she was tired. Or perhaps she'd overheard Andy's words. Jonah's chest tightened. Did this woman have to know so many of his secrets? That ember of anger flickered more brightly inside.

Yet one look at Tessa as she wove around the bedstead, her plain homespun skirts rustling with her graceful gait, drained away all his anger, all his shame. For one moment he saw compassion in her dark eyes so bright and tender.

The heat of her remembered kiss fanned across his mouth, firing his blood.

"Lie down." Her hand, small and warm, rested on his.

Then he thought about what it would be like to lie down with her. "I am not tired."

"There is no telling how long Thomas will take, and I can hear the danger in your father's breathing. Rest while you can. Surely, I will need your help later."

"How can I sleep?" The question tore through him, the guilt and concern and fear beating within his heart.

Swirls of black curls brushed her face. "I don't know. But try. Your father may soon need your strength."

Gratitude broke apart the lump in his throat. Tears, hot and painful, collected behind his eyes. How did this woman, so stubborn and difficult, understand? Perhaps for the same reason she tasted like heaven and fired want through his blood.

"I left a quilt on the chair." Tessa lifted her hand, stepped away, waiting to take his place on the low bedside stool. "Don't worry, Jonah. I will wake you if there are any changes."

He trusted her. This woman so hard-willed, so different from his notion of what a female should be. Desire licked down his spine at her nearness. Why hadn't he noticed it before? Such firm breasts, soft and full, drew his gaze, filling him with a heady want. If Father weren't so ill, he would reach out and touch them.