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easily and take over the minds of those less powerful than herself, Regan’s ability was quite limited.
    His accusations had cut deep for so many reasons. How could he have known her all the months they’d been lovers, yet not really known who she was, her integrity, her innocence?
    She wiped at her tears some more.
    She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep. She threw back her covers, and though Ian had given her one of his freshly laundered t-shirts to sleep in, she needed something else.
    Roaming the house, she went into the living room and found exactly what she was looking for. A small leather pillow with a crinkled texture sat against the gray wool sofa back.
    She picked it up and pressed it to her nose.
    There it was, the rich, deep forest and fern scent that she’d smelled earlier.
    She returned to her bedroom and closed the door tight.
    Crawling back into bed, she dragged her nose across the leather once more, then held the pillow to her chest.
    Within a few minutes, she was sound asleep.
    ~ ~ ~
    That night, as Ian sat in the kitchen, he heard Regan’s footsteps in the hall, then heard her call out, “What’s this?”
    He lifted his head from the Camberlaune Chronicle, shifting his gaze to her as she drew close to the marble island. She held up the new soft black leather jacket, the one he’d asked Ben to hunt down for him. For a last minute’s notice, Ben had done well. Of course, he had several trolls on his staff who’d probably done the leg work during the day given that trolls had no aversion to sunlight.
    “You mean the jacket?”
    “Well, yeah. Where did it come from? It looks almost identical to the one Margetta took from me.”
    Regan looked amazing in her snug jeans and leather ankle boots. Her braided belt had cinched in her waist to a perfect hand-measuring size and he wanted his hands on her.
    He’d awakened with an arousal so hard, he’d stayed in one position for a long time just trying to breathe. The urgency he’d experienced to cross to the guest room and take the woman in bed then and there still had his thighs in a restless state.
    Even now, just looking at her and catching her sweet jasmine and lime scent, had him shifting in his seat and trying to get more comfortable. The needs of his cock fused with his mind, and he knew words of any kind wouldn’t come easily. Despite the handicap, he struggled on, forcing his mind to put a few sentences together. “Uh, the jacket. Yeah. I told Ben what happened and he found this for you.” He waved at the coat. “Hope it’s the right size. Olivia sent over the rest of your clothes and make-up. Everything okay?”
    She frowned. “Everything’s fine.” She lowered her hand and stared at the jacket. “Great, really. And I do appreciate this.”
    “Uh, good.” He repressed an eye-roll at his inability to properly express himself. But he couldn’t get over how pretty she looked with her smoky lavender eye-shadow swept to a point on each lid and her brows arched and dark with whatever women did to their eyebrows. He could tell she’d worked on her hair. It was poufy, the way she liked to wear it and had a sort of wave in back, in fact a few waves.
    His gaze fell to her lips. She’d always had beautiful, full lips, and they gleamed with gloss, or at least he was pretty sure that’s what she called it. He wanted to spend some time getting it off her, taking some onto his own lips.
    “Thanks for the compliment and the jacket,” she added, though her frown had deepened. She lay the jacket over the back of the nearest bar stool. “You’re acting kind of weird.”
    He shook his head. “I feel weird. I don’t have any pain and my eyes don’t hurt anymore.”
    Her arched brows rose. “They don’t?”
    “Not even a little. Another side benefit of your recent donation, I guess. Want some coffee?” He rose as he spoke, and picked up a white ceramic mug, waving it in her direction, waiting for her decision.
    “Uh, sure. Yes.