“Good morning,” he said with a grin.
What the f**k did he have to be so happy about? Oh, right. He wasn’t chained to a bed by a whistling lunatic.
The lunatic dumped the load of kindling in a basket by the pot-belly stove, turned and brushed off his hands. “Such a pretty face to be so grumpy.”
“I’m not a morning person.”
“Then you have no excuse. You’ve missed the morning. It’s almost one in the afternoon.”
“It is?” Roslyn sat up, rubbed her eyes and scowled at him some more.
“You must have needed the rest.”
“Hmm.”
“Coffee?”
She hedged, pushing back her blankets. At some stage he’d obviously piled them high to keep her warm. Accepting anything from him felt wrong, even after dinner last night, the heat of the fire and the comfort of the bed. She did not want to owe this man a single damn thing if she could help it.
“It’s just coffee, Roslyn.” He appeared highly amused, lips raised on one side, brown eyes bright. Bushy-tailed bastard. The war wound she’d given him was impressive. A black egg sat above his brow with a pink line neatly bisecting it. “Coffee comes free.”
“Comforting to know you’ll inform me when I’m trading for favors.”
“Oh, you’ll definitely know when we’re trading for favors. Rest assured,” said the smirky jerk. “Milk and sugar?”
“Yes. Please.” She swung her legs down, bracing for the chill of the hardwood floor. There were socks on her feet: thick, woolen, distinctly foreign ones. “I didn’t go to sleep with socks on.”
“I didn’t want you to get cold.” Nick had his back to her as he lit the gas kitchen stove and put on the kettle. However, the stupid know it all look was clear when he turned to face her. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Of course she f**king minded. “You promised not to touch me.”
“That was only with regard to sex,” he said. “This was to keep your toes warm.”
She stood up, wide awake now. Anger did that to a woman. “No, there was no such caveat in place. You promised not to touch me and you broke your word.”
His brows reached high. “Caveat? What a big word before breakfast. Are you going to explain what it means to me?”
“It means you’re an ass**le.”
“Ah.” He nodded. “Would you like eggs? Only powdered, sorry. Porridge, perhaps? Or I have some fresh apples I found in an orchard not far from here. Chemical free, I promise. You look like the type to buy organic.”
“Funny.” And true. But he didn’t need to know that. How childish would it be to tear off the socks and throw them at him? They were nice. Thick, brown hiking ones. Her toes were toasty warm. It quite possibly made the situation worse. The thought of his hands on her when she was unaware had sensation creeping down her spine, spider-style. “Don’t touch me again without permission. At all. For any reason.”
He didn’t answer.
“Nick?”
He crossed his arms over his hard chest, muscles moving enticingly beneath his skin. “You know I’m not going to agree. Why upset yourself?”
“How mad were you at me last night when you thought I’d broken my word?”
“I promise I will never touch you with the intention of hurting you.” He held his fist in the palm of his hand. “Unless you’re a naughty girl. Then there will be repercussions. Guaranteed.”
“You’re threatening to hit me?”
“What?” His eyes flared wide with surprise and his hands dropped back to his sides. “No. Of course not.”
“Fuck.”
***
“Is that really necessary?” he asked.
“What?”
“Pacing back and forth.” Nick sat at the table. His long fingers dealt ably with the various parts of a gun, then got busy cleaning and oiling. So far he’d sharpened three wicked-looking blades before moving onto things that went bang! He was an industrious thing, his hands constantly busy. “It’s annoying.”