She saw him, then came to a lurching halt, her eyes widening. Clearly frightened. He made an effort to stop frowning. He felt certain his smile looked like a grimace.
Then he realized she was staring at the dog. “I thought he would run off again,” she said.
Belatedly, he remembered that Ron had told him she was afraid of dogs. “His name is Shade. He won’t hurt you, I promise.”
“He’s yours?” She sounded horrified.
“You might say I’m his. He’s a very good dog, very smart.”
She rubbed at a place on her face, near her eyebrow.
Shade approached her, rolled over on his back to expose his belly, and wagged his tail.
Tyler could only stare at the dog in shock. He had never seen Shade do this for anyone but himself.
When she stood frozen in place, Tyler said, “I believe he wants to be friends.”
She bent slowly, hand shaking, and quickly touched the dog’s chest.
Shade waited until she straightened. He stayed low, tongue lolling from a doggy smile, tail still wagging. Looking for all the world like the most obsequious mutt on the planet.
“Does he always roam around at night?” she asked.
“Rarely. He usually stays close to me.”
Shade looked back at him.
“We’d better get going,” Tyler said, and tried taking a few steps.
She rushed to his side, heedless of the dog now. It was easier to walk with her help. He told himself that even when he reached the point when he knew he could manage on his own.
Except to hold the hand of someone who was dying, he had not allowed himself to be in physical contact-even such limited contact-with a woman in years. He told himself that was why he was responding to her so strongly.
A young man’s body, a young man’s thoughts, he told himself bitterly, but kept his arm around her until they reached his front door.
He unlocked the door, and pulled a matchbook from his pocket. He lit the candle near the door, then used this to light an oil lamp. A quick look assured him that the men who had attacked him had not vandalized his home.
“No electricity?” she asked.
“No. Entirely rustic-well, almost.”
“Almost?”
“Indoor plumbing.”
“No use carrying nostalgia too far,” she agreed. She looked about her. He wondered what she made of the simple furnishings. A plain pine table. Four wooden chairs, the number a matter of tradition, since never more than one had been occupied at any given time. A fireplace. Unadorned thick walls. All the color in the room came from one throw rug and the bowls and cups on a simple sideboard. Amanda Clarke was undoubtedly used to far more elegant surroundings.
To his surprise, she smiled and said, “I like it. It’s peaceful.”
“Yes. If you’d like to wash up before we leave, there’s a bathroom just through that first door. Take the candle on the sideboard with you for light.”
She glanced up at him, took both the candle and a large empty bowl from the sideboard, and went into the bathroom.
The taking of the bowl puzzled him, but he had a bigger enigma before him. “Shade,” he whispered, “what in hell was that all about-that business of groveling?”
Shade wagged his tail.
“She’s not the queen of England, you know.”
The tail wagged faster. Someone less familiar with the dog might not have seen what Tyler saw-an unmistakable gleam of amusement in the dog’s eyes.
“Fine, have your joke.”
The dog cocked his head to one side, then lowered it and stepped forward, softly butting up against Tyler’s legs.
Tyler sighed and bent-somewhat painfully-to stroke the soft fur along the dog’s neck. “Of course I’m not angry.”
He heard the water shut off in the bathroom, and soon Amanda emerged, candle extinguished and apparently left behind. She held the bowl carefully with both hands. It was filled nearly to the brim with water. She carried a towel and washcloth over one arm.
He looked at her uneasily, and she said, “Now, after everything else, don’t start being a baby. Sit down, please.”
He obeyed, mostly out of curiosity.
She carefully washed his face, and when in response to her question he told her that he didn’t have any medical supplies here, she used her little first-aid kit to put an antibiotic on his cuts and to bandage one of the deepest. He didn’t have the heart to tell her how unnecessary this was, but when he saw her eyeing some of the smaller cuts, he said, “I heal quickly. No need to bandage the others.”
She looked doubtful, but took him at his word, and went to work on his hands.
He looked at her long, graceful-yes, graceful-neck, the dark strands of her hair falling to either side of her nape. I must be starved for affection, he thought.
“Did I frighten you, earlier this evening?” he asked.
She blushed but kept her head bent over her work. “A little. But mostly-it was-Todd embarrassed me, that’s all.”
“He has two black eyes and a swollen nose. And I’m going to have to replace a few broken bottles of Rebecca’s booze.”
He heard her give a little snort of laughter. “Thanks. But my, um…honor…was hardly worth fighting for.”
“I disagree.”
The blush deepened, she ducked her head a little more, and fell silent.
Definitely too long without human affection, he decided. That must explain why having this young woman brush a warm cloth over his hands, spread his fingers, stroke them slowly and tenderly, was nearly enough to make him want to pull her to the floor with him. He began to feel grateful to the louts who had beat him to the point of not having the strength to do it. Despite his mind’s wild imaginings, his body was tiring quickly, a sure sign that the fever was not far away.
“Thank you,” he said.
She looked up at him. Big brown eyes. Long lashes. She wasn’t hard to read-she was happy.
He shook himself. “I appreciate all you’re doing, but I think we’d better get back to L.A. To be honest, I’m concerned that they may try something there.”
“Ron!”
Yes, he thought, that’s the way of it. Remind yourself of whose territory you’re poaching.
“I’ve hired security,” he told her. “But I’d like to get within cell phone range and check on him as soon as possible, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, yes! Let’s go. Do you need anything from here?”
“No, provided my car keys are still inside my jacket. Judging from the bruises on my side-ah, yes.” He gingerly extracted them from the inside pocket and handed them to her.
She was a little wary when he told her that Shade might want to ride in the passenger seat. “Won’t you be in the passenger seat?”
He could feel the beginnings of the fever, knew that soon he would not be able to hide it from her. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep on the way home. I’ve got a bed in the back.”
“Oh! Yes, that’s a good idea. But I still think we need to stop by an emergency room. I’m so afraid-you didn’t see what happened, but it was horrible, and you probably aren’t fully in your senses-”
“Amanda,” he said, and she fell silent. “Amanda, I have to ask for a promise from you. I know I have no right to ask it, but it is extremely important.”
“What is it?”
“No doctors, no hospitals, no police. Other than warning Ron, you tell no one what’s happened.”
There was a long silence. “Why?”
“Are you worried about the car? I’ll replace it. I’ll buy-”
“No. Don’t be silly. You know I can replace it myself. My concern is you, of course.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
She blushed and looked away, but said, “I owe you an apology, for one thing. When I first met you, I was very rude to you.”
“I was rude back. We don’t have time for this now.” He felt his skin growing hot and dry. If they could leave soon, get on the road-if she had to concentrate on driving-if he could manage to be quiet-if, if, if. He felt his thoughts grow muddled between the fever and the injuries. “If I promise to tell you about this later, will you trust me for now?”