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    “You must have needed the rest.”
    “Hmm.”
    “Coffee?”
    She hedged, pushing back her blankets. At some stage he’d obviously piled them high to keep her warm. Accepting anything from him felt wrong, even after dinner last night, the heat of the fire and the comfort of the bed. She did not want to owe this man a single damn thing if she could help it.
    “It’s just coffee, Roslyn.” He appeared highly amused, lips raised on one side, brown eyes bright. Bushy-tailed bastard. The war wound she’d given him was impressive. A black egg sat above his brow with a pink line neatly bisecting it. “Coffee comes free.”
    “Comforting to know you’ll inform me when I’m trading for favors.”
    “Oh, you’ll definitely know when we’re trading for favors. Rest assured,” said the smirky jerk. “Milk and sugar?”
    “Yes. Please.” She swung her legs down, bracing for the chill of the hardwood floor. There were socks on her feet: thick, woolen, distinctly foreign ones. “I didn’t go to sleep with socks on.”
    “I didn’t want you to get cold.” Nick had his back to her as he lit the gas kitchen stove and put on the kettle. However, the stupid know it all look was clear when he turned to face her. “I hope you don’t mind.”
    Of course she fucking minded. “You promised not to touch me.”
    “That was only with regard to sex,” he said. “This was to keep your toes warm.”
    She stood up, wide awake now. Anger did that to a woman. “No, there was no such caveat in place. You promised not to touch me and you broke your word.”
    His brows reached high. “Caveat? What a big word before breakfast. Are you going to explain what it means to me?”
    “It means you’re an asshole.”
    “Ah.” He nodded. “Would you like eggs? Only powdered, sorry. Porridge, perhaps? Or I have some fresh apples I found in an orchard not far from here. Chemical free, I promise. You look like the type to buy organic.”
    “Funny.” And true. But he didn’t need to know that. How childish would it be to tear off the socks and throw them at him? They were nice. Thick, brown hiking ones. Her toes were toasty warm. It quite possibly made the situation worse. The thought of his hands on her when she was unaware had sensation creeping down her spine, spider-style. “Don’t touch me again without permission. At all. For any reason.”
    He didn’t answer.
    “Nick?”
    He crossed his arms over his hard chest, muscles moving enticingly beneath his skin. “You know I’m not going to agree. Why upset yourself?”
    “How mad were you at me last night when you thought I’d broken my word?”
    “I promise I will never touch you with the intention of hurting you.” He held his fist in the palm of his hand. “Unless you’re a naughty girl. Then there will be repercussions. Guaranteed.”
    “You’re threatening to hit me?”
    “What?” His eyes flared wide with surprise and his hands dropped back to his sides. “No. Of course not.”
    “Right.” She wished she could do the one-eyebrow-raise thing. It would call down just the right amount of skeptical upon his bullshit. “This is never going to work. Whatever you think is going to happen here, it’s not. You might as well just take me back to the school.”
    The man set his big hands back on the kitchen bench. His long body looked fully at ease as he watched her with an amused smile. How many women had gone for his particular brand of crap before the plague? Been tempted by the floppy brown hair and square jaw? The absolute confidence he had in his own propaganda?
    Plenty. Heaps. She’d bet on it.
    There was a certain appeal to him, if you were desperate. But he wasn’t half as charming as he thought he was. Not when she wore a fucking chain around her ankle.
    Not one iota of doubt sat in his dark eyes. It was unsettling. Her hands felt clammy, stuffed beneath her armpits.
    “You’re going to have to take me back,” she said. Because belief was half of