She froze, unsure what to think or do. He was touching her—not in any sort of a romantic way, of course—and he was purposefully doing it. And…she liked it.

“Are you okay?” His voice vibrated through her body.

Why did he have this effect on her? No one had ever made her feel this way before. On a few occasions, she’d felt the start of something with Gordon. But nothing like this. This—this scared her because she was starting to like the man curled around her. “I’m just cold,” she said, shivering.

After tucking her head under his chin, he tightened his arm around her body. Her heart pounded so loudly she feared he could hear it.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her voice came out hoarse.

“How’s your rib doing?”

“It’s sore but manageable.”

“Good. I want to look at it tomorrow.” He trailed his fingers up her torso, skimming lightly over her ribs. “If it gets any worse, please tell me.” His fingers hovered just below her left breast before he swept them down her torso, stopping at her waist.

Reid wanted to press against his warm body, but she forced herself to remain still. She didn’t want to embarrass herself by acting like a love-struck idiot. Not that she was love-struck by any means. They were simply acquaintances who were getting married. Well, maybe they were more than mere acquaintances. She supposed they were friends now. Probably friends. Becoming friends at least.

“Reid,” he murmured, sending a chill down her spine.

“Yes?”

After a pause that lasted a little too long, he whispered, “Never mind. Go to sleep.”

Sleep was a long time coming.

Reid peeled her eyes opened. At the sight before her, she jerked her head back, smacking into Dexter’s chin. He cursed.

“What are you doing?” Gytha demanded. She squatted in front of Reid, inches from her face. A dozen soldiers stood fanned out behind her.

“We were sleeping,” Dexter mumbled.

Gytha’s eyes narrowed. “We killed six assassins. According to the one we questioned, there are still six unaccounted for. And you were sleeping?”

It was too early for this. Yawning, Reid rubbed her eyes.

“Three,” Dexter said.

“What?” Gytha asked, her brow wrinkling.

“Reid killed three, so only three are unaccounted for.”

“Lady Reid killed three men by herself?” Gytha asked, her voice betraying her doubt.

“Yes. Now, take the soldiers at least thirty feet away and wait there for us. I need a moment alone with Reid.”

Face blank, Gytha stood and gave the order.

Once they were gone, Dexter asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” Reid rolled onto her back, grimacing from the pain. Not only did her ribs hurt, but so did her side from sleeping on the hard ground.