Lying next to Sam, holding him and being held by him, Irene wondered who she was.  His earlier warnings about the possible murderers hadn’t even raised her ire and, generally, being told to be careful or being told what to do at all got someone a knock to the head with whatever projectile was handy.  But, she took Sam’s warnings and cautions to heart.  Irene was almost certain the men hadn’t looked at her face, hadn’t recognized the barmaid/courtesan as anything more than a piece of ass.  It was nice to have someone concerned for her well-being, she mused, sighing at her romantic thoughts.  She gave herself a little pinch and jerked at the pain as her fingers pinched skin on her ribs.  So, she wasn’t asleep and dreaming.  She jerked as he spoke, lifting her head to look at him as he eased into sleep, looking younger, less worried as his eyes fluttered.<br/><br/>“Dear, dear Sam.  How’d you do it?” she asked, softly.  “I feel safe and vulnerable and excited just because of you, Sam.”  She laughed as he was seduced once more, this time by sleep, but mumbling questions as he was sucked into his slumber.<br/><br/>“Whenever we want it is when breakfast will be,” she said, supremely confident.  “Rest well,” she said, kissing his chest before resting her head where she’d kissed, wrapping one leg around one of Sam’s legs and following him into sleep.  “I won’t hurt you if you wake me up to make love,” she said.  She chuckled as she thought that she might hurt him if he DIDN’T wake her up to make love.<br/><br/>She heard the horses muttering in their stalls behind the saloon, a couple of chickens grumbling along with them.  Irene was lulled to sleep by the animal noises and by the even breathing and steady beat of the man’s heart beneath her ear.  Music, she thought as her eyes closed.<br/>