Willow remained in the crook of Slatter’s arm, having grown accustomed to being attached to him, though it could be because she felt protected in his arms.
Geary opened the door to the small hut. “Don’t try and escape. We have men posted.”
“Why would I be so foolish to do that when I’m to be ransomed tomorrow?” Slatter asked, shaking his head and hurried into the hut, his arm still firm around Willow.
Slatter went straight to the fire pit in the middle of the small room and stood there with Willow to let the flames’ heat wash over them.
Never had heat felt so welcoming to Willow. She let herself sink against Slatter’s side, her arms going around his waist, her head on his chest, as they both stood there getting warm.
After a few minutes, Slatter peered around the room, spotting what served as a mattress, a straw-stuffed mat and a blanket. He reluctantly moved his arms off Willow. “Wait here a moment.”
She didn’t let go of him. She didn’t want to. She felt safe at his side.
Slatter slipped his fingers underneath her chin and raised her head so he could look in her eyes. He didn’t like that he saw worry there.
“You’re safe. I’m just going to get that stuffed mat and blanket over there,” he said with a nod toward it. “We’ll finally be able to lie down.”
Willow nodded, eager to get off her feet, her legs aching from standing so long.
Slatter felt a pang of emptiness when her arms fell away from him and he turned away from her and scowled. He had never felt that way leaving a woman’s side, but then he had never been so protective of a woman as he was toward Willow.
He hurried and got the mat and blanket close to the fire and when he spied a crock and two tankards near the fire pit, he silently thanked Maddie. He filled both quickly and handed one to Willow.
She sighed after taking a sip. “Hot cider. How wonderful.”
Slatter felt the same way, sipping the hot liquid slowly.
“We must get you beneath the blanket,” Willow said, giving him a little push.
“That eager to cuddle with me?” he teased, his wicked grin surfacing.
“Aye, I am,” she said seriously. “We need warming down to our bones if we are to survive and more so for you since you are naked.”
Slatter leaned down, bringing his face close to hers and whispered, “Your beauty keeps me warm.”
Willow stared at him a moment, then said, “Does that smooth tongue of yours ever stop sweet-talking?”
“Shall we find out, leannan?” he murmured and brought his lips to hers.
Willow felt a spark about to ignite and stepped away from him.
Slatter chuckled. “Afraid of what you feel when I kiss you?”
“It’s not proper for you to do so and I don’t feel anything when you kiss me,” she chastised. “And I’ll have your word that you will not take any more liberties with me.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want, leannan?”
“I’m sure, and you will stop calling me sweetheart,” she ordered and was surprised when she felt a tinge of regret.
“I give you my word that I will take no liberties with you this night.” He held his hand out to her. “But I will not stop calling you leannan, since you truly have a sweet heart.”
Willow shook her head. “You never stop trying to charm.”
“And you forever refuse compliments,” he said and his hand shot out to snatch hers. “Now let’s do something that has been denied us… sleeping on what serves as a mattress.”
Willow couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She slipped her hand out of Slatter’s, placed her tankard near the fire pit, and hurried off her cloak and placed it on top of the blanket that was folded partial down along the mat.
Slatter placed his tankard beside Willow’s and helped her to sink down on the mat, then he joined her. They slipped under the blanket together and Slatter turned on his side and eased Willow on her side so he could wrap himself around her.
She didn’t protest when his arm fell across her chest just beneath her breasts and he tucked her back against him tightly. Or when he draped his leg over hers, locking it firmly around her. She wanted him there wrapped snug against her, sharing his warmth, feeling his strength, feeling safe.
Neither spoke as the heat settled around and through them and as Willow drifted off, Slatter whispered near her ear, “Liar. My kiss stirred your passion and you enjoyed it.”
Willow woke wrapped comfortably and toasty warm in Slatter’s arms the next morning. She didn’t want to move; she was far too comfortable.
“You slept well?”
Willow turned her head up to look at him. He was a feast for the eyes. A woman would never grow tired of looking at him. And those dark eyes of his, Lord, could they seduce with just one glance, pulling a woman in, stroking her, stirring her to passion-filled madness. She inwardly shook her head at her crazy thoughts.