Two could play at this game. Her blush heightened when his stare canvassed her body in a leisurely, heated sweep. The pulse at the base of her throat visible through the parted curtain of hair fluttered to life, though to her credit, she didn’t drop her stare.

“My turn. Were you following me?” she asked.

“I’ve already answered your allotted question, imp.”

“I didn’t ask you a…” She pressed her lips together, recalling her mistake about asking whether he was good at his job. Something like vexation flickered in her eyes. If he had to hazard a guess, she was worried about the slip. “That was devious.”

“How do you know the Kestrel?”

She thought on that for a moment and then shook her head. “I don’t. I’m tired and we should probably get some rest, if we can.”

Valentine had an inkling she could be a vise when she wanted. Instead of pressing the matter, he nodded and rose. His coat was already dry enough. He spread it out and placed it on the ground near the fire that was already burning down faster than he’d hoped. “Lie on this.”

She stood up in a graceful movement, the shifting of her silky hair affording him a tempting glimpse of the curve of one breast. Hell, she was lovely. Situating herself on his coat, she propped herself up to her side on one elbow and gazed up at him. “Where will you sleep?”

In reply, he sat down next to her, his back to hers. “Right here. We need to keep warm when the fire goes out. I’ll keep it going for as long as I can, but body heat is better than no heat.”

Bronwyn stiffened but didn’t move. She might refuse to tell him her secrets, but she wouldn’t argue the logic of staying alive. For long moments, he pondered the puzzle that was his beautiful, mysterious companion until her even breaths of sleep finally filled the air. He drew his dried shirt from the wall and placed it over her.

Whatever trouble she was in—and he didn’t doubt for one second that she was in way over her head—he would get to the bottom of it.

Whatever it took.

Nine

“What the infernal fuck, Bronwyn!”

The bellow was enough to wake the dead. Bronwyn’s eyes flew open and she sat straight up in complete confusion, eyes squinting in the stark light of day. Every muscle in her back and posterior hurt from the hours spent asleep on the unforgiving ground. Blinking, she focused her blurry vision on the fully dressed man standing in front of her holding up a square of linen, one she sluggishly recognized as his handkerchief.

“What’s the matter?”

“You were a virgin?”