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actually growing rather desperate to visit the garderobe, but she was also embarrassed to name that need to the stranger standing half-naked before her.
    Annabel’s eyes slipped to his chest again, but she forced them away. They did seem to like to look at his chest and just kept doing so without permission. Certainly, if asked, she wouldn’t have allowed them to wander all over that wide, naked expanse and follow the thickening hair down to where it disappeared under the plaid around his waist. Certainly not!
    “Drink,” he urged.
    Annabel heaved out a breath and took another gulp. Honestly, she was beginning to wish he’d just get the bedding done with. Not that she was all that sotted. True, she was slurring her words a bit, but she wasn’t feeling anything besides that . . . Well, other than the room’s tendency to want to wobble around them, she supposed. But that was an issue with the room, not her.
    A hiccup slipped from between her lips, and Annabel quickly covered her mouth, just in time to stifle an embarrassed giggle. Oh dear, she really had to pee. Would it be rude to simply announce that? Or should she just excuse herself and slip from the room? Certainly they didn’t mention anything as crass as bodily functions at the abbey, but perhaps it was allowed outside the abbey. And what if she excused herself and he asked where she was going?
    “Wife?”
    Annabel glanced around the room before turning back to him and saying with surprise, “Oh, you mean me.”
    For some reason that seemed funny to her and she found herself giggling again.
    “How do you feel?” he asked, eyeing her closely.
    “Like I have to pee,” she answered, and then slapped a hand over her mouth with dismay, only to tear it away and mutter, “Damn, I said it,” which was followed quickly by an alarmed, “Oh damn, I said damn.” Swearing was definitely not allowed at the abbey.
    For some reason her words seemed to amuse the man. She could tell by the way his lovely dark eyes crinkled and his terribly stern mouth turned up. He had lovely eyes.
    “Thank ye,” Ross rumbled. “So do you.”
    “So do I, what?” she asked with confusion.
    “Have lovely eyes,” he explained.
    “I didn’t tell you, you have lovely eyes. Did I?” she asked with a frown. Annabel was sure she’d only thought that.
    Still smiling, he shook his head slightly, but apparently decided not to trouble himself answering, because he didn’t and simply bent to tug the furs and linens away from her, saying, “Come, I’ll walk ye to the garderobe.”
    “Oh no,” she said at once, scrambling to get out of bed. “That is not necessary, my lord. I know where it is. I used to live—Oh,” Annabel gasped with surprise when she stood up and the room swung wildly.
    Ross immediately reached out to steady her, and she leaned against his chest and closed her eyes briefly in the hopes that the room would settle when she opened them again. After a moment, she cautiously eased them open and tipped her head back to peer up at the man holding her. He had a very nice face. She hadn’t seen enough men to decide whether he was handsome compared to others, and so far his face seemed a touch stern most of the time. But filled with concern as it presently was, it was nice, she decided . . . and then had to wonder why it was growing in size. His lips were nearly touching hers before she was able to sort out that it was growing larger because it was drawing nearer.
    The first touch of his lips on hers was petal soft and for some reason that surprised her. Annabel supposed that she had expected his kisses to be as rough and aggressive as his outward appearance suggested. When he applied more pressure, she smiled against his mouth, although she couldn’t have said why. And when she felt his tongue slip out to run across her lips, she opened her mouth in surprise, intending to ask if that was a normal part of kissing and if she should do it in return, only to gasp in