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“You kicked my ankle.”“Sorry.”She rolled to face him when he moved away. “Don’t go yet,” she begged. She liked how messy his hair was, a... unruly mop of dark brown hair.“Nature’s calling,” he said with a smile, bending to kiss her lips softly before rising.“You’re not much good as a cuddler!” she yelled at his disappearing back.“You’re not either. And you’re a quilt thief!” echoed back to her.Quilt thief? Really? No way! She wasn’t a cover hog.IN THE BATHROOM, I wondered if Sia had seen my. At the corner of the tavern Beckwith's double row of riflemen had retrieved their various weapons and had formed their ranks with their muskets at the rest in front of them. They was trying to look grim, but a lot of them looked worried if not a'feared. Couldn't hardly blame them. Facing them some twenty yards away was a loose file of horsemen with carbine-muskets in their hands. Lt. Morrison ran right between the two forces and down to where the British officer sat his mount in a bright red. More

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