Free Julianne MacLean by My Own Private Hero

gather her thoughts. “I can’t be alone,” she told him.
    For a few awkward seconds, he stared down at her. When he finally spoke, his voice was deep and quiet. “It wouldn’t be right, Adele.”
    She wasn’t sure if he was referring to the strict code of behavior they both lived by, where an unmarried lady such as herself would be irreparably ruined if the people in the inn discovered she’d had a gentleman in her bedchamber at night—or if he was referring to something else more specific. More personal. Something unspoken. Something to do with the open way they had interacted at dinner.
    “I don’t care,” she said, thinking only of what she needed right now. Him. His protection. His calm.
    She realized suddenly that she had just taken hold of his arm again. His skin was smooth and warm. She wanted to run her thumb over thetight bands of muscle, but she resisted the urge. It was only the second time in her life she’d had to fight hard against something she wanted, something she knew she shouldn’t have—something that would be wrong.
    He sat down and gently pried her fingers off his arm, then set her hands on her lap, away from him. He was going to tell her she would be fine if only she would lay her head down on the pillow and draw up the covers. That’s what her mother always used to say when Adele had had nightmares as a child.
    But he didn’t say that. “What was the dream?” he asked.
    She wet her lips. “I dreamed he came back.”
    “Your kidnapper?”
    “Yes. He took me out of my bed, and since that night, I haven’t been able to sleep.”
    “He won’t be coming back,” Damien said. “You can be sure of that.”
    Looking down at her hands on her lap, she nodded. “I know. At least my mind knows it, but when I dream, it feels real. How will I ever feel safe enough to fall asleep again?”
    He covered her hands with his own. “You’ve been through an ordeal, and it’s only natural to feel the way you do, but it will pass. Your peace of mind will return a little more each day, every time you wake up safe in your bed.”
    “How long do you think it will take?”
    “It’s hard to say, Adele.”
    Somehow, they’d fallen into the habit of using each other’s Christian names. It wasn’tproper, she knew, but she couldn’t imagine it the proper way.
    “But I’m exhausted,” she said, and her voice broke.
    Damien’s large, warm hand came up to rest on her cheek. Before she could stop herself, she covered it with her own, reveling in the feel of his soft touch upon her skin, and exploring the strong bones of his hand.
    She felt safe now, even though her heart was racing and she was, in many ways, flirting with another kind of danger altogether. She was playing temptress with a rugged, wild, hot-blooded man who took great pleasure in the seduction of women.
    It was like nothing she’d ever done before. Adele’s sisters would dip into these uncharted waters, not she. She was sensible Adele Wilson, who never misbehaved.
    Feeling as if she were floating in someone else’s body—a reckless adventurer, perhaps?—she closed her eyes, while he stroked her cheek with his thumb and stirred hungry, unfamiliar longings inside her body. She had no idea where they would lead her.
    She didn’t want him to stop, but she knew, any second now, he would. Because this was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and they both knew it.
    But oh, how good it felt, and how painfully deprived she would feel when he stopped.
    Quickly, he slid his hand out from under hers. “Adele, don’t.”
    It was a clear warning.
    “I’m sorry,” she replied, feeling as if a glass of water had been splashed in her face. She shouldn’t have clutched at his hand like a woman starving for affection. He had meant to offer her comfort and understanding, and she’d tried to take more.
    She forced herself to think of Harold. She was engaged to Harold. She wanted to marry Harold.
    “I’m just upset,” she said. “That’s all. And