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— whether he deserved it or not. He blew out a large gust of air. Disgusted by the rabbit trails his mind continued to wander, he stared down at the top of Elisande’s head. This was all her doing. She unsettled him, and he could not account for the why of it, especially since she subjected him to the sharp edge of her tongue from the very first moments of their meeting.
    A glossy lock of sun-tipped hair slipped over her slender shoulder and teased the bare skin of his chest. Without a thought, he trapped the errant strand betwixt his thumb and forefinger. The strand was thick, silky, very unlike the women he had known whose courser hair bespoke of harder times. He frowned, then flung the lock away from him, but the wind plastered the long ribbon across his chest once again. He grit his teeth, as an internal struggle between reason and lust commenced. From the start, the woman exuded an overabundance of femininity. Since that moment, he wanted nothing more than to succumb to the enchantment she cast over his senses, and sink into her softness until he drowned in it.
    His desire won out and he leaned forward, closed his eyes at the exact instant Honeybush side-stepped a rut in the trail. His awkward stagger rammed Aeden’s nose into the back of Elisande’s head. Her hand shot out.
    “Ooh — what was that?”
    Before he could pull away, she reached back and her fingers brushed against his whiskered cheek. The innocent caress raised the hair on his arms and he knew his harsh intake of breath alerted her to his disquiet. She maneuvered around and eyed him, but he learned at a young age to mask his state of mind. Although he had no time to mask his wince, he managed to resist an urge to massage his battered nose.
    “Goodness, did I injure you?”
    Her puzzled eyes studied his face. His stared down at her, his mind blank and hoped to let the incident pass without further comment. He should have known better. The woman never allowed the most trivial event to go unnoticed without some sort of lengthy discussion.
    “Chief Maxwell, did you, or, did you not bite your tongue?”
    “And why would I want to bite my tongue, lass?” He willfully chose to misunderstand.
    She frowned, opened her mouth to speak, though it was several seconds before any sound came out, as she considered his remark.
    “Well, I expect no one desires to bite one’s tongue.”
    “Then why ask such an odd question?”
    He kept his smile in check and his hand loose on the reins, although he longed to smooth the wrinkle in her brow with a finger.
    “Well, what else would you have bitten?” she answered with a shrug of her shoulders.
    “I have not the slightest idea. What would you have me bite?” he deadpanned, navigating the conversation to murkier waters.
    “Are you trying to provoke me, or, are you usually this dull-witted.”
    “What did you say, lass?” He grinned.
    She pursed her lips. “I am quite certain you heard me.”
    He had taken in every word uttered, but she was accurate when she accused him of baiting her. He had no idea why, yet, her reactions and the manner in which her mind worked intrigued him. The lack of reverence for his title, an aberration in his world, also appealed to him.
    She swiveled forward in exasperation just as Honeybush hit a deep rut on the trail. She lurched sideways and before she flew headlong over the side, Aeden pulled her roughly to him.
    “Take care, lass.” His speech was thick and unsteady. Conditioned to keep his emotions concealed, he was certain she had no idea of the effect her womanly curves had on him. Yet, it hardly mattered since she would never belong to him. Addis would have that privilege. He loosed his grip.
    “I’m beginning to wonder if this is a test of my fortitude, or possibly retribution,” she muttered.
    He smirked at the notion. “You need not worry I shall retaliate.”
    The delicate wings of her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement. “Retaliate for … ?”
    “Your