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The warmth of her cottage was like an embrace as she hurried inside and managed to close the door without dropping the cloth.

Camden brought a blanket, put it over her shoulders, and gently guided her to stand in front of the fireplace. The cheery fire emanated heat, warming her quickly. He’d added a log to the fire, and she slid a glance from it to Camden. “I usually dinnae add such a large log in the morning. I have errands and—”

“Why do ye go out and swim in the creek?” he interrupted. “It is nae safe. Anyone could come up on ye and catch ye unawares.” His handsome face showed concern, the expression earnest.

Despite the humiliation of what had occurred, Anne couldn’t stop the mirth bubbling in her throat.

“Aye, true as I have just found out. But in my defense, in all the years that I have bathed in the creek, ’tis the first time a wayward person has happened upon me.”

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Aye, well, that’s true.”

“Why are ye here about?” she asked softly, genuine curiosity in her voice. She had never seen him near the woods behind her cottage before. There were only a handful of herbs that dared grow in that patch of ground. The rest were nipped away by thirsty creatures that came to drink from the clear stream and devoured anything green and tender.

His cheeks darkened with color. “I hoped to see ye.”

He scratched the back of his neck, the movement making his bicep flex beneath the fabric of the tunic, solid and powerful. How had she not noticed before how well-built this man was? She had always known he was handsome, with a chiseled jaw, broad shoulders, and thick lashes framing his bright green eyes.

Perhaps it was the vulnerability due to her lack of clothing, but something inside of her shifted. She stood holding the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “About?”

“I have nae stopped thinking about our walk and wished to ask if ye would like to do it again sometime?”

She’d heard all the rumors and knew that he courted Moyra. “’Tis nae a good idea.” Unsure why, Anne took a step closer. “It was a lovely walk, I will admit.”

His gaze moved to her lips. “Lovely?”

If asked, Anne wouldn’t be able to say who initiated the kiss. One instant they were apart, and the next she was in his arms, her fingers curling into his hair as his mouth claimed hers. She didn’t notice the blanket slipping from her shoulders to pool around their feet. The kiss deepened, slow and searching, and his hands slid down her back, rough palms skimming over bare skin. The contrast sent shivers racing through her, her body arching toward him of its own will.

His chest was hard and warm beneath her, her breasts pressed against him, and his arms tightened as though he feared she might vanish if he let go. The world narrowed until there was only breath and heat and the low, needy sound he made against her lips.

Time unraveled.

His mouth trailed from her kiss-swollen lips to her jaw, then lower, lingering just beneath her ear. The soft brush of his breath there made her knees weaken.

She wanted to beg him to stay. To touch. To never stop.

Reality crashed back in all at once.

They were alone. In her home. And she was bare beneath the open air and his hands.

“Oh!” Anne uttered, pushing Camden back at the same time lowering to the floor to grab the blanket that had fallen from her shoulders.

“Go. Please,” she whispered, not daring to look up at him because if she did, there was the possibility she’d ask him to stay.

Chapter Seven

Camden staggered a few feet from Anne’s cottage, his erection straining against the fabric of his breeches. He tried rubbing it down, hoping to coax it to go away. But his body was not ready to comply. He was still panting more than breathing at this point. After several useless attempts to regulate his breathing, he finally blew out a long-determined breath and leaned against a thick tree.

Closing his eyes was a mistake. Because the image of Anne’s flushed face, the feel of her body against his, and the softness of her skin under his palms slammed into him, sending his entire being into violent shivers.

If he didn’t do something about it, he’d be unable to walk properly. Looking around to ensure he’d not be seen, he untied the belt of his breeches, and whilst holding them up with one hand, he slid his other one in and took hold of himself.

He was hard as a rock. His erection seemed to throb as he wrapped his finger around it and commenced to slide his hand up and down the shaft. It didn’t take long, as all he had to do was imagine with each stroke he was delving into Anne’s willing body.

Afterward, Camden straightened his clothing with steady hands, his body eased of its ache, yet his mind no quieter for it. The release had offered only a fleeting balm, like pouring water over embers that still glowed stubbornly beneath the ash.

He could not recall the last time he had taken comfort in a woman’s arms. When Eara walked away, she had not only broken his heart, but she had also shuttered it. In the hollow that followed, he’d turned from women altogether, convincing himself he had no need of them. Days became months, and months quietly gathered into two full years of deliberate solitude.

And yet, Anne lingered in his thoughts as stubbornly as the scent of wild thyme on his skin. Was it possible she was meant for him? The notion unsettled him more than any temptation. If she was, then he could not remain so guarded. Courting her would require courage and change.