And that was the reason for his sudden black mood. He wanted nothing between them.

Not cloth, and especially not her scars.

She needed time. And patience. That is what it would take to cure her shyness.

“And because we’re married, we can do this whenever we want?” she asked.

“Yes,” he told her, wondering where her thoughts were headed.

“And as often as we want?”

He tilted his head just enough to see her expression and almost burst into laughter, his dark mood suddenly gone. Mercedes looked quite pleased with the idea of making love to him as often as she wanted. He tapped the end of her nose, then tucked her firmly against him so that her head rested on his shoulder. He pulled the sleeping bag over her back and used it to swaddle her tightly.

“Not quite that often, wife. A woman is weak after making love. She needs at least until morning to gather her strength.”

She fell silent again, and he couldn’t decide if he should be glad or worried. She suddenly yawned, apparently accepting his ridiculous statement as truth, and snuggled against him like a contented, well-fed cat.

“Morgan?” she sleepily whispered into the silence.

“Aye?”

“When I find the gold, I’m giving some of it to Harry and Dwayne.”

Chapter Seventeen

There were advantages to this marriage thing,one of which was having such a large, very warm body to snuggle against.

“Good morning, wife.”

Yes, it was morning—the morning after, to be specific. What does a woman say to a man she was intimate with just a few hours ago?

Sadie decided to follow his example.

“Good morning, husband.”

His grin broadened. “Have you regained your strength?” he asked, his voice husky, his eyes dark with obvious intent.

“It—it’s daylight.”

He nodded. “Aye. It is daylight.”

“We can’t… we shouldn’t… no, Morgan, I’m still quite tired.”

He stared at her for another overlong minute, then suddenly brushed back the covers and stood up, picking up his pants as he straightened. “Too bad,” he said as he slipped into them. “I was planning to take you to the site of an old logging camp I know of that’s not too far from here.”

He shrugged again and began to put on his shirt. “I thought it might be the one you’re looking for and that Faol was leading us to. But if you need more rest, then go back to sleep.”

Sadie shot upright and was standing before she remembered that she was naked from the waist down. Her cheeks—on her face and her backside—threatened to blister with embarrassment. Sadie jerked down her shirttails to cover herself. This time their state of dress was reversed. Now she was the exhibitionist, and he was the one looking on with interest.

“Turn around.”

“No.”

Why wasn’t she surprised by his answer? “Don’t you have a moose to cut up or something?”

“The job would be easier with a good morning kiss.”

“No.”

Unlike her, he seemed sincerely surprised by her answer. “Why not?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her.

“Because if you kiss me, one thing will lead to another, and I’ll be flat on my back in less time than it takes to sneeze.”

One corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. He uncrossed his arms and tucked both hands behind his back. “I promise not to lay a finger on you, lass. Just my lips.”

“I’m not kissing you. Not until we are both fully dressed and I’ve had some breakfast to build up my strength again.” She shot him a seductive smile to let him know that she hadn’t been fooled by last night’s claim that women were weak. “Although I’d bet my boat that you’re needing the nourishment more than I am.”

Apparently not caring to have his words thrown back at him, Morgan spun on his heel and headed downriver, disappearing into the brush.

Sadie breathed a sigh of relief. She brushed the hair off her face and smoothed down the front of her shirt. She suddenly smiled. Well, spit. She had just survived a second night of sleeping with Morgan MacKeage.

And she thought things had gone quite well. Heck, she was actually feeling proud of herself. She had managed to make love to the man without embarrassing them both, she hadn’t bitten him again, and she had just won an important battle of wills. She was feeling quite wifely this morning and beginning to think this marriage just might work out after all. She could survive living with Morgan.

She could even get used to the idea that he was strange. So what if the man carried a sword everywhere? He obviously knew how to use the weapon. He had skillfully killed that moose yesterday afternoon. It shouldn’t matter to her why that was his weapon of choice, only that he didn’t choose to use it on her.

A breeze suddenly kicked up, lifting her shirttail and sending a shiver past her bare bum and up the length of her spine. Sadie realized she was still standing on her sleeping bag, still naked but for her flannel shirt.

There was actually frost on the ground this morning. She hurried to find her clothes, then hurried even more to get them on. Only after she was finally dressed did she straighten from tying her boots to look around the tiny meadow she was in.

Leaves rained from the trees and wafted through the air like drunken butterflies, having given up the battle to hold on to their branches. The frost and then the abrupt heat of the rising sun had snapped their stems and left them to fall to their inevitable end, to become fodder for next year’s growth of new flora. The cycle of life was playing itself out.

“I see breakfast isn’t looking any more promising than last night’s supper.”

Sadie spun on her seat and shot Morgan a smile. She grabbed one of the granola bars, now frozen solid, and tossed it to him.

“When I’m traveling I only make one hot meal a day,” she explained, her smile widening as she watched him frown at his breakfast. “Mostly I just graze on trail mix, granola bars, or jerky until supper.”

Voices traveled in on the breeze just then, and both Morgan and Sadie looked upriver to discover the source of the sound. Sadie shot to her feet the moment she recognized her mother’s voice. Charlotte Quill was sitting in the bow of the approaching canoe, paddling and smiling and talking to Callum sitting in the stern.

Sadie’s mood took a sudden dive into the dirt. She slapped her hands over her face to cover her gasp and could only stare in mute shock through her fingers.

Dammit. Her mother was here.

She spun on her heel and ran to Morgan, grabbing him by the shirt and standing on tiptoe to get her eyes dead level with his.

“Not one word about our being married,” she whispered urgently, clutching the front of his shirt. “Understand? No kissing in front of my mother. No calling me wife. And hide that damn sword!” she finished on a whispered shout, pushing away and running to their bed.

She quickly rolled up her sleeping bag, ran to her unused tent, and threw it inside. She went back to the ledge, kicked around the matted dry grass she’d put there for padding, and frantically scanned the campsite for any other telltale signs.

Dammit. What in hell was her mother doing here?

Morgan still hadn’t moved one muscle, much less done as she’d instructed and hidden his sword. She did that for him, running back to the ledge and kicking some of the dry grass over the weapon. Then she smoothed down the front of her shirt, took a calming breath, plastered a smile on her face, and sedately walked to the river to welcome her mom.

Morgan just didn’t have the heartto tell his wife that no amount of deception would ever disguise the guilt she was feeling at the sudden arrival of her mother. Mercedes’ face was blushed red; she was embarrassed to the soles of her feet despite her efforts to appear otherwise. She didn’t seem to realize that any person in her right mind, especially her mother, would consider finding her daughter sharing a campsite with a man anything but innocent.