“How old were you?”

“About nine.” She turned back, snuggling into her pillow. “I haven’t thought about that in years. Remy had come home and he came barrelin’ out of his room and yanked the switch out of mon pere’s hands and told him if he ever touched me lke that again, he’d get the switchin’ of his life. Funny that I didn’t remember that until now. That’s probably how I always knew Remy wouldn’t ever hit me in anger. He was furious with mon pere.”

“I would have been too.”

She laughed. “You say that now. You haven’t lived with me. Pauline says I could try the patience of a saint. As I recall you said you were no saint.”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” He spread his fingers over the slight roundness of her stomach. He loved the way she felt so soft. “I’m definitely not, as much as I’d like to be for you.”

“I rather like that you’re no saint. I couldn’t live up to one.”

A sudden blast of wind sent a barrage of rain into the room and the curtains flying. Saria yelped and put the covers over her head as the drops of water poured over them. Laughing, Drake leapt out of bed and caught the doors to close them.

“Miss Pauline is goin’ to kill me,” Saria wailed, her voice muffled. “She loves those curtains.”

Drake pulled the first door closed, but stopped, looking out over the water in the distance. Rain swept down in silvery sheets, dotting the surface of the lake. Something moved just inside the tree line, where the hammocks were slung in the trees.

“What is it?” Saria peeked out from under the blankets.

When she went to move, he held up his hand as he would have for one of his team members. It didn’t occur to him she wouldn’t obey. Saria was intelligent and she knew the danger of what he’d done—challenging the leader of the lair. Already the two of them had been hunted. Armande and Robert swore they were only trying to scare off Drake, but Robert had made his try twice with a weapon.

Drake didn’t move, but stayed very still, allowing his leopard to come close to the surface, improving his night vision. The heavy rain made it difficult to see into the heavy foliage. The water behind the trees had allowed him to see a shadow he couldn’t identify merging with the darker interior of the grove.

They had one guard, the others needed sleep, and Pauline Lafont owned one very large piece of property. He silently cursed himself for provoking the male members of the lair. He should have taken care of hunting the killer and then worry about everything else.

A deer nosed its way out of the trees onto the edge of the inn’s rolling lawn. Drake didn’t move. He watched the animal step cautiously, almost delicately onto the expanse of green. He looked warily around and moved to a line of shrubs guarding roses. Every third step the animal stopped and waited. Twice he looked toward the trees where Drake had thought he had seen a shadow move.

Drake shifted his gaze to follow the line of the deer. The trees were close together, some of the trunks quite thick. The rain pounded the leaves, turning the night into a thick gray veil. Every now and then a gust of wind blew straight toward the house. He inhaled, trying to catch an elusive scent. Nothing. The deer continued to make his way toward the roses, leery, but determined.

The brush near the trees moved and a skinny dog emerged, nearly crawling on its belly, away from the deer toward a garbage can. Drake gave a sigh of relief and closed both doors, and as a precaution, adfloor lock.

“Nothing?” Saria asked.

“Nothing, honey. You can put the knife away.” He crawled into bed and gathered her close again. “You won’t be needing it.”

“What a shame.” She brushed his mouth with hers and closed her eyes.

Drake lay awake for a long while, holding her close, marveling at how a woman’s skin could be so soft and yet house a backbone of steel. God, but he’d fallen hard. He didn’t even know how it happened, but every moment in her company just made him fall deeper in love. He drifted off to sleep, inhaling the fragrance of her hair.

DRAKE’S eyes snapped open and he lay in the gathering dawn, listening to the rain, listening for a sound that might have awakened him. He’d been exhausted and he knew he’d slept heavily. He touched his leopard. The animal had woken along with him, but was settling down once again, as if he, too, had no idea what had woken him.

Saria was cuddled up beside him, warm and soft, on her side, unmoving, not restless at all. That surprised him. He expected it would difficult for her to sleep beside someone, just as it had always been impossible for him, yet both of them had slept easily together.

He lifted the corner of her pillow where her hand was hidden. He wasn’t at all surprised to see her knife inches from her fingers. He moved it back a little more, not wanting to take any chances when he woke her. Smiling, he cupped her breast, his thumb stroking back and forth over her nipple. She felt like rose petals, soft and velvety and so warm.

“Turn over, baby,” he whispered in her ear, taking time to tug at her earlobe with his teeth.

Saria murmured sleepily, but obediently turned toward him where he could nuzzle at her warm breasts. She sighed drowsily and one hand landed in his hair, stroking small caresses there. He lapped at her nipples for a moment and then drew one into the heat of his mouth. She made a small appreciative sound and cradled his head to her.

“Mmm, nice way to wake up.”

He took his time, lavishing attention on every square inch of her body, learning every sensitive spot that sent her writhing and tossing against him. He indulged his every whim, loving her with his mouth and hands, getting to know her body as intimately as he knew her strength of character.