a waterskin—were bound in a pack on his broad back. The bone hilt of a dagger protruded from a sheath attached to his belt.
Toward evening, they encountered a circular stone shelter, a smaller version of Owein’s roundhouse. The thatch was missing in several places, and the small door was gone. It was clear from Owein’s nod of satisfaction that he’d been looking for the place.
“A shepherd’s sleeping hut. We’ll make our beds here.”
Clara peered through the doorway, a small flare of panic rising. “It doesn’t look large enough for two.” Especially when one of the pair was as large as a bear. “Surely you don’t expect us to share such a small space.”
Owein had bent to gather some scattered deadwood. He straightened, regarding Clara with brows raised. “Ye wish to sleep outside?”
“Not me,” she said. “You.”
He snorted. “I’ve no urge to freeze my stones.”
Clara shivered inside her cloak. The sun had already dipped below the top of the mountain, leaving the valley dark and cold. “Promise not to touch me, then.”
Owein piled more wood by the doorway. “I canna promise that. The shelter is far too small.”
Clara closed her eyes against a sudden image of the two of them pressed into the small space. She bit her lip. “You promise you’ll not force me to couple with you?”
The corners of his mouth turned down. “Barbarian I may be, but I dinna take unwilling women.”
She watched as he shredded dry bark for tinder and sparked a blaze with the flint from his pack. Clara lowered her satchel to the ground and stretched out her frozen hands to the fire. The stone wall at her back was already warming.
She chewed the strip of dried venison Owein offered and washed it down with a sip from his waterskin. Her teeth and jaws ached with the effort of chewing—never in her life had she eaten such rough fare. From Owein’s knowing glance, he guessed as much.
He kept the fire small, prowling at the edges of the light before settling down beside her. The night wind gusted, causing the flames to dim. Clara drew the edges of her cloak together, blessing its hood and its thick fur lining. By contrast, Owein’s cloak was thin, ragged wool. But he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’d give all the jewels in my satchel for a hot bath,” Clara sighed.
Owein merely grunted.
“Could we build up the fire, at least?”
Owein raised his head. The meager flames glinted red-gold on his thick mane. “The deadwood I gathered must last us the night.”
“Oh.” Clara huddled in her cloak. “Of course.”
Owein nodded toward the hut. “ ’Twill be warmer inside.” Retrieving the blanket from his pack, he crouched in the doorway and spread it over the dirt floor.
Clara was too cold and exhausted to protest the tight quarters. Drawing her cloak about her shoulders, she crawled past him. Some of the heat from the fire had found its way into the hut, but the wind whistling through the doorway and roof dispersed it quickly. It would be a long, cold night.
She curled up in her cloak as tightly as she could. Owein eased into the shelter beside her, placing his large body between her and the open door, blocking most of the wind. She lay on her side facing him, carefully avoiding contact. Unfortunately, that meant lying on her bruised hip.
He was as warm as a brazier filled with coals. Her shivering soon abated, but the sharp dart of pain in her hip prevented her from getting comfortable. She wriggled, shifting first to lie a bit more on her stomach, then more on her back.
She was startled when Owein’s gruff voice reached out to her, almost in her ear. She hadn’t realized his lips were so close. “Can ye nay be still, lass?”
“The ground is hard,” Clara said crossly.
“My apologies for that. I neglected to pack a down-filled pallet for our journey.”
“It would be no matter if I hadn’t fallen on my hip.”
“Turn over, then.”
“And lose sight of you? I think not.”
He snorted. “If I meant to seduce ye, I’d have done it by now.”
She went still. “Are you saying you don’t want to seduce me?” She cursed herself as soon as the words left her tongue.
Owein muttered a rough Celt word—one that Aiden hadn’t taught her. She heard a long sigh, then, a moment later, he reached for her. His hand closed on her upper arm. Before she could summon a word of protest, he turned her in his arms and tucked her