17
Rafe Lennox awoke to the sensation of being watched. Long before he opened his eyes, he became convinced he was not alone in his bedchamber. Experience had honed his senses, and he felt that unmistakable tingling at the back of his neck. He cautiously opened one eye, resisting the urge to reach for the pistol under his pillow. He swept his gaze over the room and quickly found the spy.
Little Isla was at the foot of his bed, her large blue eyes fixed on him. Somehow, that made him jump worse than if it had been an actual intruder. He calmed himself, reminding himself she was no threat. In fact, she was a bloody adorable scamp, now that all the dirt and grease had been scrubbed off her. Her hair, which had been dark-brown last night, was now a softer, more lovely russet color.
Now wide
