Captain Jordan lit the oil lamp hanging near the window and offered Aimée a covering for her legs as the cooling night air brought in a slight October chill.

She shook her head at first.

As the night progressed, he watched, as she seemed to have a more difficult time keeping her eyes open. Her lids grew heavier as he watched her lashes flutter and her eyes slowly blink shut. Her hair appeared to grow disheveled the harder she tried to hold her head up, so much so, that she nodded off the third time, unconsciously allowing herself to incline onto Palmer’s shoulder.

The moment she laid her head softly against his the crook of his neck, he heard her let out a deep sigh. He sucked in his breath.

Looking down at what he could see of her coppery curls as she rested beneath his chin, he grinned slowly. He smelled the perfumed fragrance of her hair and shut his eyes for a split second.

After closing his eyes, and breathing out, he took a deeper whiff, memorizing the scents of the beautiful young woman beside him, who while sleeping, reached up and placed her hand on his chest. He heard her sigh again.

What was she doing?

Palmer wanted to take his other hand and place it across hers, but he dared not. He couldn’t forget his pledge not to touch her. Not as he was tempted to now. Yet, she was making that promise for him close to impossible.

As the carriage rolled along, occasionally hitting pocks in the road, the oil lamp swung more freely.

She tucked in closer.

Palmer would not have slept if his life depended on it. He wanted the moment to last forever...no, longer, and yet, at the same time, he prayed Abel up front would soon turn into the next inn, so he could awaken the girl and get her into a room of her own. He needed a breath of fresh air. He had to get away.

Nuzzling his chin once along the softness of Aimée’s sweet-scented hair again, he lingered there a few more seconds. Heavenly.

He was going to have to pray harder for the Lord to give him strength. He had to remember the girl beside him was not a believer, and in that frame of mind and heart, she would never be the right person for his life.

Pulling himself away from her abruptly, he closed his eyes again and shook his head.

PJ should have been in his shoes right now! Not him. Maybe he could have fared better with this budding flower.

Mrs. Simpson, Aunt Beryl, all of them had it wrong.

Palmer swallowed hard, stiffened his back, and tried to stretch. Maybe if he cut out his eyes so he would no longer have to look at her and maybe if he discarded a portion of his nose so he would no longer take in her lovely fragrance, it would help. This trip, this so-called project to save Amethyst Rose Lebrún, was not going to be easy at all!

What had he gotten himself into?