The tingle at the base of his neck had him turning, nearly reaching out. He'd been so certain that he would look and see her walking toward him. There was nothing but the slope of rock, and the wind. Yet the feeling of another presence remained, very real, so that he almost called out.
He was a sensible man, Trent assured himself. He knew he was alone. Yet it seemed as though someone was there with him, waiting. Watching. For a moment, he was certain he caught the light, drifting scent of honeysuckle.
Imagination, he decided, but his hand wasn't quite steady as he lifted it to push the blowing hair out his eyes.
Then there was weeping. Trent froze as he listened to the sad, quiet sound that sobbed just under the wind. It ebbed and flowed, like the sea itself. Something clenched inside his stomach as he strained to hear—though common sense told him there could be nothing to hear.
A nervous breakdown? he wondered. But the sound was real, damn it Not a hallucination. Slowly, ears pricked, he climbed down a jumble of rocks.
“Who's there?” he shouted as the sound sighed and drifted on the wind. Chasing it, he hurried down, driven by an urgency that drummed through his blood. A shower of loose stones rattled into space, bringing him sharply back to reality.
What in God's name was he doing? Scrambling down a cliff wall after a ghost? He lifted his hands and saw that despite the brisk wind his palms were sweating. All he could hear now was the frantic pounding of his own heart. After forcing himself to stand still and take a few calming breaths, he looked around for the easiest form of assent.
He had just started back when the sound came again. Weeping. No, he realized. Whimpering. It was quite clear now and nearly under his feet. Crouching, Trent searched behind an outcrop of rock. It was a poor, pitiful sight, he thought. The little black puppy was hardly more than a ball of furcovered bones. Relief poured through him, making him laugh out loud. He wasn't going crazy after all. As Trent studied it, the terrified pup tried to inch back, but there was nowhere to go. Its little frightened eyes fixed on Trent as it trembled. “Had a rough time, have you?” Cautiously Trent reached out, ready to snatch his hand back if the pup snapped. Instead it simply cowered and whined. “It's okay, fella. Relax. I won't hurt you.” Gently he stroked the puppy between the ears with his fingertips. Still shivering, the pup licked Trent's hand. “Guess you're feeling pretty lonely.” He sighed as he calmed the dog. “Me, too. Why don't we go back to the house?” He gathered the dog up, zipping it inside his jacket for the climb. When he was halfway to the top, Trent stopped then turned blindly around. It was at least fifty yards from where he had stood looking out to sea to where he had discovered the stray. His palms grew damp again when he realized it would have been impossible for him to have heard the puppy's whines from the ridge above. The distance and the wind would have smothered the whimpers. Yet he had heard...something. And, hearing it, had climbed down to find the lost dog. “What the devil was it?” Trent murmured, and cuddling the pup closer, headed for home. He was just beginning to feel foolish when he crossed the lawn. What was he supposed to say to his hostesses? Look what followed me home? How about--Guess what? I decided to take my life in my hands and climb back down the cliff. Look what I found. Neither opening seemed quite suitable. The sensible thing would be to get in the car and drive the dog down to the village. There was bound to be an animal shelter or vet. He could hardly march into the parlor and dump his find on the rug. But he couldn't, Trent discovered. He simply couldn't turn the shivering ball of fur over to strangers. The little guy trusted him and was even now curling softly under his heart. As he stood hesitating, C.C. came out of the house.
Trent shifted and tried to look natural. “Hi.”
'Hi.” She paused to button her denim jacket. “We're out of milk. Dp you need anything from the village?”
A can of dog food, he thought, and cleared his throat. “No, thanks. I, ah...” The pup wriggled against his shirt. “Did you find anything?”
“Lots of things, but nothing that tells us where to look for the necklace.” Her misery turned to curiosity as she watched the ripples run along his jacket. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine. Just fine.”Trent cleared his throat, folded his arms. “I took a walk.”
“Okay.” It was awful, she thought, just awful. He could hardly meet her eyes. “Aunt Coco's making a light lunch if you're hungry.”
“Oh—thanks.”
She started to move by him when a high-pitched yip stopped her in her tracks. “What?”
“Nothing.” He smothered an involuntary chuckle as the puppy wiggled along his ribs.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, yes, I'm fine.” He gave her a sheepish smile as the dog poked his nose above the zipper of the jacket.
“What have you got?” C.C. forgot her vow to keep her distance and stepped closer to tug the zipper down. “Oh! Trent, it's a puppy.”
“I found him down in the rocks,” he began quickly. “I wasn't sure just what to—”
“Oh, you poor little thing.” She was already cooing as she gathered the puppy to her. “Are you lost?” She rubbed her cheek over its fur, nuzzled nose to nose. “There now, it's all right.” The puppy wagged his tail so fast and hard he nearly fell out of her grip.
“Cute, isn't he?” Grinning, Trent moved closer to stroke. “Looks like he's been on his own for a while.”
“He's just a baby.” She crooned and cuddled. “Where did you say you found him?”
“Down on the rocks. I was walking.” And thinking of you. Before he could stop himself, Trent reached out to touch her hair. “I couldn't just leave him there.”
“Of course not.” She looked up and saw that she was all but in his arms. His hand was in her hair, his eyes on hers.
“Catherine—”
The pup yipped again and had her jolting back. “I'll take him in. He must be cold, and hungry.”
“All right.” The only place left for his hands was his pockets. “Why don't I run down and get the milk?”
“Okay.” Her smile was strained as she backed toward the steps. She turned and, murmuring to the puppy, dashed inside.
By the time Trent returned, the stray had a place of honor by the kitchen hearth and the undivided attention of four beautiful women.
“Wait until Suze and the kids get back,” Amanda was saying. “They'll flip. He sure goes for your liver pat€, Aunt Coco.”
“Obviously a gourmet among dogs.” Lilah, already on her hands and knees, leaned her nose against his. “Aren't you, cutie?”
“I'm sure he should have something more bland.” Coco was also on the floor, charmed. “With the proper care, he'll be very handsome.”
The pup, amazed at his good fortune, raced in circles. Spotting Trent, he gamboled over, tripping over his own feet. The women scrambled up, all asking him questions at the same time.
“Hold on.” Trent set the grocery bag on the table, then crouched down to scratch the pup's belly. “I don't know where he came from. I found him when I was walking along the cliffs. He was hiding out Weren't you, boy?”
“I suppose we should ask around, to see it anyone's lost him,” Coco began, then held up a hand as her nieces voiced unanimous dissent. “It's only right
But it is up to Trent, since he found him.”
“I think you should do what you think's best.” He rose to pull the milk out of the bag. “He could probably use some of this.”
Amanda already had a saucer and was arguing with Lilah on the proper amount to give their new guest.