Reeve gaped, this being the last reaction he’d expected from this kicking, clawing little hellcat, but he understood when he caught sight of the empty glass perched on the side of the tub.

The tenderness that filled him displaced his passion, at least temporarily. One cordial wouldn’t have affected a more sophisticated woman, but it had rendered Maggie helpless. He laughed low in his throat, and approached the tub.

Catching Maggie under both arms, he lifted her to her feet and held her against his bare chest with one arm while he reached for a towel with his free hand. She giggled, her head lolling against his shoulder, as he wrapped the towel around her and gently lifted her into his arms.

In her bedroom he set her down on the edge of the bed, intending to unpin her hair and ruffle it partially dry with the towel, but she fell over the moment he let go of her, giggling again, one breast escaping its covering to taunt Reeve with its sweet, inviting peak.

He suppressed an urge to bend and touch that straining morsel with his tongue, laughed despite the fact that he was in more pain than he ever remembered suffering, and hauled Maggie back to a sitting position. Her head sagged against his middle while he pulled the pins from her hair, and a searing jolt of need went through him, stiffening both his manhood and his resolve to do the decent thing.

Awkwardly, Reeve dried Maggie’s flowing hair as best he could, then he tucked her under the covers and reached out to extinguish the lamp Kala had left burning on the bedside table.

Maggie made a crooning sound and thrust both hands up onto the pillow, causing her breasts to bob free of the blankets and torment Reeve anew. He couldn’t resist taking them full in his hands and caressing them for a moment before gently replacing the blankets.

Her lashes thick on her cheeks, Maggie wriggled and gave a regretful whimper, her arms outstretched to Reeve even though she wasn’t fully awake. In anguish Reeve put out the kerosene lamp and left the room.

There was a burning, pulsing ache deep within Maggie’s middle, finally driving her to a half-wakefulness. She sat up in bed.

Had she only dreamed that there was a storm? Silvery moonlight flowed in through a nearby window, pooling around her. She stretched her arms and yawned, and then her hands came tentatively to her breasts. She cupped the warm, tingling mounds in her palms for a moment, craving Reeve, offering them up to him even though he was not there.

Scrambling out of bed, wrapping the quilt around her, Maggie paced. The friction of her pacing made the throbbing in her middle worse, so she stopped near the door and opened it.