He drew the blanket downward and made another attempt. This time, his hand connected with a thickly padded quilt. Good God, she was layered like an onion. No wonder her leg had felt thick enough to support a small tree. “How many of these are there?” he asked, trying to locate the edge of the quilt. “Only five or so,” she answered. “Five?” He flung back the quilt, not bothering with patience any longer. “Are you attempting to deter me? Exhaust me before I even get to the act?” “I was cold. And then you banked the fire.”
