Lover. Skimming her gaze over his face again, she wondered why she didn’t feel any particular surprise at the word. Was it possible she’d recognized it from the beginning? Foolish, she told herself, and shook her head.

Slowly, she shifted away from him, then crawled to the front of the tent to peek out. Even as she reached for the flap, a hand closed around her ankle. Hunter pillowed his other hand under his head as he watched her.

“If you’re going out like that, we won’t keep everyone away from the campsite for long.”

As she was naked, the haughty look she sent him lost something. “I was just looking out. I thought you were asleep.”

He smiled, thinking she was the only woman who could make a viable stab at dignity while on her hands and knees in a tent, without a stitch on. The finger around her ankle stroked absently. “You’re up early.”

“I thought I’d hang these clothes out to dry.”

“Very practical.” Because he sensed she was feeling awkward, Hunter sat up and grabbed her arm, tugging until she tumbled back, sprawled over him. Content, he held her against him and sighed. “We’ll do it later.”

Unsure whether to laugh or complain, Lee blew the hair out of her eyes as she propped herself on one elbow. “I’m not tired.”

“You don’t have to be tired to lie down.” Then he rolled on top of her. “It’s called relaxing.”

As the planes of his body fit against the curves of hers, Lee felt the warmth seep in. A hundred tiny pulse points began to drum. “I don’t think this has a lot to do with relaxing.”

“No?” He’d wanted to see her like this, in the thin light of dawn with her hair mussed from his hands, her skin flushed from sleep, her limbs heavy from a night of loving and alert for more. He ran a hand down her with a surge of possession that wasn’t quite comfortable, wasn’t quite expected. “Then we’ll relax later, too.” He saw her lips form a gentle smile just before he brushed his over them.

Hunter didn’t question that he wanted her just as urgently now as he had all the days and nights before. He rarely questioned feelings, because he trusted them. Her arms went around him, her lips parted. The completeness of her giving shot a shaft of heat through him that turned to a unified warmth. Lifting his head, Hunter looked down at her.

Milkmaid skin over a duchess’s cheekbones, eyes like the sky at dusk and hair like copper shot with gold. Hunter gave himself the pleasure of looking at all of her, slowly.