For My Lady's Honor. Sharon Schulze

it felt to hold her, set thoughts he’d no business thinking rushing to his brain—as well as to other, more unruly parts farther south.

      By the saints, she should know better than to look at him that way!

      “Is that so?” he replied, even as he regretfully mustered his common sense and withdrew his support, easing her out of his grasp. Straightening his legs, he settled himself beside her pallet, once again facing her. “I believe I can put your arm aright once there’s light so I can see what I’m doing,” he told her.

      “I know.” She met his questioning look, her expression solemn. “I drifted in and out of sleep while you were carrying me—I heard bits and pieces of your talk with Rafe.”