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lass. You make nae sense. None.”
    “You told them I’m the babe’s mother.”
    “True. You already argued it.”
    “You didn’t think it through!”
    “You’re a shrew. With a nagging bent. That’s it. Is na’ it?”
    Amalie’s response came through set teeth. It was soft and cursed but it was still loud enough to waken. Thayne stiffened completely. She matched his held-breath state as they waited for the movements about them to quiet. She didn’t move the entire time and he didn’t, either. All that happened was her heart rate increased until it owned her hearing.
    Thayne finally blinked, tipped his head to her ear again, releasing his breath as well as her gaze. “Perhaps we should save this . . . for another time.”
    Amalie managed a nod and that got her what felt like a lip touch on her neck. And that just got her another round of shivers to fight.

Chapter 4
    She’d rarely spent such a night. Amalie stayed still for several moments, willing sensation back into her limbs. Her mattress had never felt so hard. She felt weak, too, just like during the weeks of slow starvation Father ordered. And she was filled with ache. Massive ache. Everything was heavy: her legs, arms, neck . . . all leaden.
    Her sleep had been filled with an endless span of dreams, peopled with savage demons, steep cliffs with bottomless drop-offs, and cold deep water that pulled her under, making it nearly impossible to surface for a gasp at air. But throughout there’d been the form of a man. Tormenting her. Teasing her. Protecting her. And not just any man, but one conjured into being just for her. Formed with jaw-dropping features, shoulder-length chestnut-colored hair he wore pulled back, and clear aqua-shaded eyes. There was more. He’d been a huge muscled man, capable of wielding any weapon to her defense and easily assisting her when she needed it. It was a shame he was just a dream.
    Amalie stretched and connected her head with something solid and bulky. Alive. And grumbling. Then it was angered.
    “Watch the chin! I’m bruised and swelled already.”
    Amalie yanked her eyelids open, tried to sit at the same time, but was pitched back by an arm of unbreakable strength. She didn’t guess the unbreakable part. She found out. She tried. All that happened was the hold tightened to a punishing level, a leg went atop her hips, and a face came into view. Amalie spent several moments of huffed effort pushing against him before admitting defeat. Her fight hadn’t done much. The man who held her was just as massive and unbending as he’d been in her dream. He was as handsome, too. Even with a mass of lengthy, ungroomed hair falling across his forehead. She added to that. He also looked amused. He didn’t even look winded.
    “You’re an odd spit. Thinking to best me? And at wrestling?”
    Amalie bucked with her entire body. Nothing much happened, other than his limbs flexed to hold her in place.
    “You . . . are not real,” she informed him haughtily.
    One of his eyebrows lifted, showing a flash of blue-green. The man had stunning eyes. No wonder she’d dreamt him.
    “I dreamt you. That makes this unreal and therefore it’s not happening,” she continued.
    He was definitely entertained now as a smile split his face, revealing a full set of white teeth.
    “What . . . is so amusing?” Amalie asked.
    “You called me a dream. Me.”
    “My mistake. I meant nightmare,” she replied.
    “Lass, you more than dreamt me. You up and claimed me. Afore all.”
    He said each word distinctly and solidly. That gave them more weight and that just seemed to add to the entirety of his bulk.
    “I did not. Nor would I. Ever.”
    “Oh, aye. You did. Proclaimed aloud and with perfect words. Binding words.”
    “Let. Me. Up.” Each word was punctuated with another heave of her entire frame, or what she hoped was her entire frame.
    “Na’ yet.”
    She had to cease fighting him. Her strength wasn’t up to it and her face was probably red