" Miss Smith, your suspicions wound me,' he said with a smile. He drew her, stiff and unwilling, against his side. Immediately her warmth seeped into his veins. He’d known he’d missed her, but only now did he realize how much. 'I mean no harm.'

'You lie.'

'Often,' he agreed amiably, feeling the resistance leaching from her. 'Not this time.'

'I’m in no fit state to fight you,' she muttered, curving into him as if created to fit his body.

'I know,' he acknowledged ruefully, wondering why of all the women in the world, she was the only one who ignited any glimmer of chivalry in his soul. 'But it’s no fun when you just give in. I’ll wait until you’re up for another bout.'

She hid her face in his shoulder. She inhaled on a shudder, as if she hadn’t taken a full breath in days. 'You’re an evil devil, Ranelaw.'

'Absolutely,' he said softly, firming his hold as she shifted, not away as she should, but closer. "

― Anna Campbell , Midnight's Wild Passion