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money before he’d turned aside.
    It was a problem he stood no chance of solving tonight, he decided, catching a yawn with his open palm. And leaving the warm cabin now for another night in the cold shed was less than appealing. He cast another glance at her, there beneath the covers, her hair tangled around her face, her eyes deeply circled with weariness.
    She would never know if he stayed inside. He could be back out in the shed before she woke. He lifted a quilt from atop her, replacing it with her heavy cloak. Another yawn made him shake his head in weariness.
    He’d leave early to bring the deer back. He’d rise before dawn and be gone before she stirred.

Chapter Three
    “ M r Yarborough!” Her words bore more than a trace of shock.
    He rolled over, tangling the quilt around him, and struggled to his feet. “I thought we’d decided on ‘Quinn,’“ he growled. The quilt fell to the floor and he turned to look at her.
    The image was one of early-morning sensuality. One cheek creased by her pillow, hair as black as a raven’s wing and eyes blinking away the residue of sleep, she stood by the bed, wrapped in the second quilt.
    “’Quinn’ was when I thought you were a gentleman.”
    “Hell, sleepin’ on your floor didn’t turn me into an outlaw, Erin,” he muttered, bending to pick up the quilt that threatened to trip him. He folded it, aware that her look scorned his attempt.
    She held out a hand, baring her arm to the elbow, and his eyes narrowed as he handed her the bundled-up quilt. What she was wearing beneath her own bulky coverlet was anyone’s guess. She must have discovered his presence while she was getting dressed or undressed.
    “I planned on being out of here before you woke up,Erin.” Although he’d have hated missing the sight of her, all sleepy eyed, with that halo of dark hair shimmering around her face.
    “I’d planned on you using the shed.” She dropped the quilt on the bed and wrapped her own covering around her a little tighter, her arm disappearing beneath the protection of patchwork.
    “I beg your pardon, ma’am.” It was the best he could do, being all primed with his usual early-morning problem, and the sight of her adding to it by leaps and bounds.
    “Well?” She watched him impatiently, her nostrils flaring, her chin high as she waited.
    “I’m goin’…I’m goin’.” Quinn snatched at his boots and struggled into them, hopping on one foot at a time as he slid his stockinged feet into place. At the sink he pumped once and caught the water as it ran from the spout, splashing it over his face and neck, running his fingers through his hair.
    He’d hung his coat over the back of a chair in front of the stove last night and it was warm when he slid his arms into it. At the door he shot another glance in her direction. She hadn’t moved, just stood there like a statue, all full of indignation.
    Made a man want to give her something to be mad about, Quinn thought with a twinge of exasperation. About one more day with this woman and he’d be more than halfway to forgetting what he’d come here to accomplish.
    Damn! What a way to start the day.
    Erin drew in a deep breath. She’d stripped almost to the skin in front of the man. Down to her drawers and chemise anyway, ready to dig into her carpetbag for aclean dress. And then she’d heard him grunt as he shifted about on the wood-planked floor.
    That it didn’t frighten her was a miracle. Heaven knew she wasn’t used to finding a man sleeping in front of her stove, but some inner awareness identified the culprit even before she peered around the table to where he lay.
    The coverlet had been handy and she’d hidden quickly behind its concealing folds, then called his name with the proper amount of indignation. She’d almost smiled when he’d staggered to his feet, his hair every which way and his eyes blinking at her.
    She sank onto the edge of the bed. That look he’d given her…that knowing light in his