She was lovely, but it was no longer her beauty that drew him. There was a sweetness about her, a combination of compassion and shyness. She had strength and passion. And innocence—an incredibly alluring innocence. He wanted to go to her now, to gather her up and make love with her in the softest, gentlest way he knew.

But she wasn’t for him. He wished it could be like a fairy tale, wished she could go on sleeping for a hundred years, for two hundred and more, until he awakened her and claimed her for his own.

He wasn’t a prince, he reminded himself. He was just an ordinary man caught in an extraordinary situation.

Moving quietly, he crossed to the bed to draw the sheet over her. She stirred, murmured. Unable to resist, he reached down to stroke her cheek. Her eyes fluttered open.

“Cal. I had the strangest dream.” Then she was awake and pushing herself up to stare around the cabin. “Not a dream.”

“No.” He sat beside her. No matter how much he lectured himself, he couldn’t deny the pleasure it gave him to share his bed with her, if only as a friend. “How do you feel?”

“Still a little rattled.” She combed both hands through her hair, holding it away from her face for a moment before she let it fall. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. I guess my mind needed to shut off for a while.”

“It’s a little much to take in all at once. Libby?”

“Yes?” She glanced distractedly around the cabin, trying to let it all settle in.

“I’m sorry. I have to.” He closed his lips over hers and savored. She was warm and soft from sleep. He couldn’t have explained to her how badly he needed that yielding texture. Reflexively she lifted a hand to his shoulder. But there it relaxed.

It took all his willpower not to touch her and, with the need raw in his gut, to draw away.

“I lied,” he murmured as his gaze dipped down to her mouth. “I’m not sorry.” But he rose and moved away from the bed. She stood up and tried to keep her nervous fingers from fiddling with the hem of her sweater.

“Is that your family?”

“Yeah.” He’d been staring at the picture, wishing life could be as simple as it had been at that moment. “My brother Jacob and my parents.”

The love, somewhat wistful in his voice, was unmistakable. Moved by it, she laid a hand on his arm. “This is Jacob?” she asked, indicating his brother. “But they don’t look old enough to be your parents.”

“It isn’t difficult to look young.” He shrugged. “Well, it won’t be.”

“And that’s your home?”

“I grew up there. It’s about twenty kilometers outside the city limits.”