Oh, Lordy. God and all the saints above, lend him patience. Restraint. And, perhaps, just a hint of social grace. He'd beg for it if he was the begging type. But Richard Sharpe rarely pleaded for anything. Too proud.

"Hot showers, Molly?" A beat. He considered his words rather carefully. No use in spooking the gal. She spoke comfortably and openly but there was no denying the luxury of her lifestyle. "We make do with cold streams and buckets of water. Now and then."