Of course not. “That’s hardly the point. I won’t be hauled around that way because you, in your warped brain, find it amusing. Now get me a shirt.”

He ran his tongue around his teeth as he considered her. Even with hay in her hair, and flushed head to toe with embarrassment and temper, she managed to be dignified. It was . . . fascinating.

“Sugar, you’re getting me stirred up again, and I don’t think we have time for another round.”

“You—”

“Peasant? Barbarian?”

With an effort, she reined in. It was impossible to have a reasonable argument under the circumstances. “I’d like to borrow some clothes, please.”

“What the hell. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“Michael.” She jerked back, stunned, when she saw the intention in his eyes. “Michael, I will not be—”

Dragged to the floor, kissed into mindless submission, driven to bone-splitting climax.

“Oh, God.” She fisted her hands on the rug and let herself be ravished.

It took more than a few minutes, so that Laura found herself sneaking like a thief into her own house. If she could just get upstairs, she thought, easing open a side door and creeping into the parlor. Into her room.

Her children would be waking for school any minute. Her children. Wincing, carrying her shoes, she tiptoed into the hall. Was she out of her mind? How could she possibly explain herself if—

“Miss Laura!”

If the worst happened, Laura thought fatalistically and turned to face a shocked Ann Sullivan.

“Annie. I was just, ah, out . . . early. Walking.”

Very slowly, Ann continued down the stairs. She had been widowed for more than twenty-five years, but she knew the look of a woman who’d spent the night in a man’s arms.

“You’re wearing a man’s shirt,” she said stiffly. “And there’s hay in your hair.”

“Ah.” Clearing her throat, Laura reached up and plucked out a bent shaft. “Yes, that’s true. I was . . . out, as I said, and . . .”

“You’ve never been able to lie your way out of an open door.” Ann stopped at the base of the stairs, facing down her quarry very much like a mother about to lecture a reckless child. With a mixture of amusement and apprehension, Laura recognized the signs.

“Annie—”

“You’ve been down at the stables rolling around in the hay with that sharp-eyed, womanizing Michael Fury.”

“Yes, I’ve been down at the stables,” Laura said shrugging on her cloak of dignity. “Yes, I’ve been with Michael. And I’m a grown woman.”

“With the sense of a peanut. What were you thinking of?” Ann continued, poking out a finger. “A woman like you wrestling in a hayloft with the likes of him.”