Bran took Sasha’s hand as they walked out and, testing, brought it to his lips. “Not angry anymore?”

“Oh, I’m still angry. I can put it aside for the big picture.”

“I get angry myself when I see you making yourself sick.”

“It’s my problem, my business.”

He flicked a nosegay of lavender out of the air, handed it to her at her door.

“Magic flower tricks don’t charm me.”

“They do. But more important, you’re my problem and my business now as well.”

Cupping a hand behind her head, he pulled her in, took her mouth in a quick, warm warning of a kiss. “You’ll have to deal with that as well. Good night, fáidh.”

She stepped quickly into her room, shut the door before she did something insane like pull him inside with her.

It hadn’t been a lover’s kiss, she told herself, as she traced a finger over her own lips. Not brotherly either. It was more . . . making a point.

That’s what she needed to remember.

He wasn’t attracted to her. They were teammates, and he was trying to keep her in line.

Well, she’d keep herself in line.

But she slept with the lavender on her pillow, and slept without dreams.

CHAPTER SIX

Sasha awakened to sun diamonds sparkling on blue water, and wondered at the turn her life had taken. Whatever came after, moments like this offered wild beauty. The idea of setting up her easel, trying to interpret that beauty on canvas had her pushing up in bed. Until she remembered she was part of a team, and the team had an agenda.

A team of five now, she thought, with the addition of the gorgeous and quirky Annika Waters.

She lifted the little nosegay from her pillow, held it to her nose. Immediately she was thrown back into that brief kiss, felt the warmth, the light pressure on her lips.

A team, she reminded herself. Not a romance, but a mission.

Though she’d do her duty, she gave herself the pleasure of throwing open her terrace doors, stepping out into that wild beauty. She smelled fruit and flowers and sea, gave herself the assignment of finding a watering can so she could tend the terrace pots, all filled with spearing and tumbling flowers in breathlessly hot colors.

She leaned on the iron railing, scanned the empty beach, then saw Annika topping the cliff steps. She wore a pink dress today, pale and pretty with a skirt that floated around her thighs as she started across the grass in bare feet.

She paused every few feet to sniff flowers, stroke leaves. When she looked up, saw Sasha, she beamed a smile, waved.

“Hello!”

“Good morning. You’re up and around early.”

“I don’t want to miss things, and I needed to swim.”

In what? Sasha nearly asked, then decided it wasn’t her business.

“Everyone was sleeping¸ but you’re awake now.”

“Yes, I am. I’m just going to get a shower and dress. I’ll be down soon.”

Sasha basked in the shower, wondered what it would take to have body jets installed in her shower at home—and thought whatever it took, it would be worth it.

Considering the agenda, she put on jeans, a tank, and a camp shirt, then laced up her hiking boots. She reordered her pack, lightening her load. And though it embarrassed her, even with no one to see, she took a sprig of lavender from the clutch and pressed it between the pages of the journal she’d bought for the journey.

Muttering at herself, she banded her hair back in a tail, and went downstairs.

She heard voices as she approached the kitchen, and caught the morning scents of coffee and bacon. Bran said he’d take breakfast, she remembered, and put on the casual smile she’d practiced in the mirror.

She walked in to see Annika frowning down at a mug of coffee. “Why doesn’t it taste the way it smells?”

“Too strong, is it? I don’t see the use of coffee unless it’s strong enough to stand up and dance, so I’ve a habit of brewing it that way.”

Bran stood at the stove, scooping bacon from the frying pan with a fork, tossing it onto a plate covered with paper towels. Casual, Sasha thought, and strolled in. “The stronger the better.”

Annika turned, held out the mug. “You would like it?”

“Thanks. There’s juice in the fridge if you’d rather.” At Annika’s blank smile, Sasha walked over, got out the pitcher. Then, as the woman seemed so pleasantly helpless, a glass.

Annika took a testing sip. “Oh! This is very nice. I like it much more than the coffee. I’m apology, Bran.”

“Sorry. You’re sorry,” he corrected. “And no need to be.”

“When did you learn English?” Keeping it casual, Sasha leaned back against the counter.

“English?”

“The language.”

“Oh. I know this one and some others. But sometimes the words are wrong. You can tell me when they are, and I can learn. Can you cook, like Bran?”

“I can cook.”

“You can teach me. It looks fun and smells nice.”

“Sure, I guess. But for now, maybe you could set the table.”

Annika pointed. “The table.”

“The one outside. We could have breakfast outside, on the patio. So you could set that table.”

“Where should I set it?”

With a laugh, Sasha put her coffee aside. “You could put the plates, the flatware, the napkins out. We’re five,” she said and chose five plates from the cabinet. “So five plates, five sets of flatware.” She opened a drawer. “And the napkins are in the top drawer of that breakfront.”

“I can set the table.” Annika rattled around in the silverware drawer, counting under her breath. When she had her supplies, carried them out, Sasha turned to Bran.

“She never answered the question.”

“Evaded it, charmingly.” He scooped potatoes he’d chipped and boiled out of the pot with a slotted spoon, dumped them in the frying pan. Grease snapped and sizzled. “She’s clever.”

“Part of me wants to pin her down, and the other part wants to watch it all evolve. I know there’s no harm in her.”

“Then the evolution might be more interesting. How did you sleep?”

“Fine. In fact, great. You?”

“The same.”

To keep busy, Sasha unwrapped the second—and last—round of bread, began to slice some for toast. “It looks like it’ll be a good day for hiking, though if we’re going to be exploring caves I guess it doesn’t matter much. I didn’t pack a flashlight—never thought of it, but—”

The knife clattered on the table as Bran spun her around.

“What—”

“Last night wasn’t enough.”

His mouth took hers. Then came the whirlwind.

Not the almost brotherly brush of lips, but a long, deep possession that spun everything she was into greed and need. For an instant, the storm blew in, all whipping wind, roaring thunder, and that bold, bright flash of lightning.

She wanted to leap into it, ride it, no matter where it took her.

But the risk, and the pain. She already knew the pain, knew it could shatter her beyond repair.

She pressed a hand to his chest, and he gave her a breath. His eyes—and she swore she saw worlds, wild worlds, swirling behind them—locked on hers.

“We’re a team,” she managed, and the hot, dangerous glint shifted into what might have been humor.

“That we are, fáidh, but you’re the only one I want for this.”

He lifted her to her toes and took her again.

He hadn’t been able to pry her out of his mind, to drain this singular desire out of his blood. There were countless reasons he should resist, to keep her as friend and teammate only. And only one reason to ignore all the rest.

That simple touch of lips the night before had lit something in him. He wanted to see how hot it might burn.

And she called to him, her wounded and courageous heart. Surely there was purpose there.