Dragon Moon (7 page)

But he always felt safest here. And for now, he would stay in this mountain retreat and watch for what might come.

TALON could feel the woman in his arms struggling to contain her tears. He didn’t have much experience comforting women, but he gave it his best shot as he patted her back reassuringly and spoke softly.

“Everything’s okay. Come on. Let’s go inside where you can get warm and dry.”

“Okay,” she whispered as though the word was from a foreign language.

“How’s your leg? Can you walk?” As he spoke, he stooped to pick up his gear.

“I think so.”

Slinging his arm around her waist, he played his light along the ground in front of them, guiding her through the branches of the massive tree sprawled at the edge of the forest.

She was limping, he noticed. But her leg wasn’t broken. That was the important thing. Not the feel of her soft breast pressing against his side. To distract himself, he went back over his finding her and the rescue. There was something strange about the way the branch had lifted off her. He’d been pulling up, and it had rotated slightly as it rose. Had he done that, or had some other force been operating?

The speculation brought him up short. What other force would that be? The branch must have conveniently shifted when he’d pulled on it.

He wanted to go back and have a look at it. But that was out of the question now. He had to get her dry and warm, or she could go into hypothermia, even in late summer.

They made their slow way out of the branches, and he breathed out a sigh as they reached open ground.

“This way.” Turning to the left, he led her to the lodge.

As they walked, he could feel her trembling. A natural response to her narrow escape. And to getting drenched.

After she got out of her wet clothes, he’d put her in one of the bedrooms. He imagined her lying under the covers, and an erotic picture leaped into his mind. Of her reaching out naked arms to him and pulling him down to the bed with her.

Sternly, he ordered himself not to go down that road. She was simply a woman who had had the misfortune to get clobbered by a tree in the storm. On his property.

They reached the porch, and he helped her slowly up the two steps, then into the front hall. He’d given her a quick once-over outside, but it had been dark. Now, standing under the overhead light, he took in more details, starting with the light brown hair that hung in wet strands around her ears.

Her skin was paper white, making her look like she’d been living in a cave for months.

She was about average height. Too thin, he thought. Because she was dieting like so many women, or because she hadn’t had enough food recently? Her large blue eyes were set wide apart, above high cheekbones, a small nose, and temptingly full lips.

Dropping his gaze, he noted the way her wet shirt clung to her breasts. Quickly, he lowered his eyes, taking in the soaked jeans and the leather sandals that looked like they’d been made on a hippie commune. Strange footwear for a tramp through the woods.

“Did you lose your pack or your purse?” he asked.

“My knapsack,” she answered, her voice shaky.

“We can look for your stuff in the morning.”

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“Come on.” He led her down the hall to one of the guest suites and sat her on the closed toilet seat in the bathroom while he thought about what she could wear.

KENNA sat where he’d left her, trying to make her fogged brain function. She was sitting on a toilet seat. In a bathroom. She had seen pictures of bathrooms in this world. She hadn’t really understood how foreign they were.

Her mind skittered back to something Talon Marshall had said—about her purse?

What was that, exactly?

She’d learned so many facts about this world, but she didn’t remember being told about a purse.

Lifting her head, she looked toward the door. He’d gone off to get her some clothing. While he was away, she could run out of the house.

And go where?

She shook her head. She was still wet and cold. There was nowhere to go, and she might as well make the best of this situation. This was what she was supposed to do!

Again, she forced herself to focus on her surroundings. The bathroom was strange and the house was just as confounding. She’d only gotten a quick look as Talon Marshall had ushered her down a hall, but she sensed that the structure was huge, like the residence of a noble back home. Yet the man was dressed too casually to be a noble.

She stopped herself, struggling to rearrange her thinking. There were no nobles in this world, so he couldn’t be one. But it looked like he was rich, if he lived in a place this large.

Did he share this dwelling with anyone? A wife? Children? She had no clue. But it seemed impossible that he would be the only occupant.

Just from their brief meeting, she liked him. More than liked him. He’d gone out of his way to help a stranger. He could have gotten hurt climbing around the fallen tree, but he hadn’t hesitated. And when he’d held her in his arms, she’d felt a spurt of attraction to him. Or had that just been gratitude that he’d rescued her?

She didn’t want to feel either of those things.

Hating the prospect of spinning him her story, she turned her mind to the clammy fabric of her shirt pressing against her skin. It was warm inside the house, but the shirt was making her cold, and she should take it off. Then she’d feel better. She was fumbling with the buttons and had gotten a few of them opened when she heard footsteps in the hall.

“All right to come in?” he called.

“Yes.”

He stepped into the little room, filling the small space. Outside, she hadn’t taken in his size. Now she saw he was tall and well muscled, with a decisive jaw covered by dark stubble.

“Who lives here with you?” she blurted.

“No one.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, not on a regular basis. I lead wilderness expeditions. Sometimes clients spend the night at the beginning or end of a trip.”

She nodded, wondering what he meant by a “wilderness expedition.”

Briskly, he changed the subject. “You need a hot shower. Then you can put these on.” As he spoke, he set down a pile of soft clothing on a square table beside the sink.

A hot shower?
She’d been thinking of a bath, and her dulled brain scrambled to process what he was suggesting.

As he spoke, he pulled aside a curtain and reached to turn a lever. Water came spraying out of . . . The word eluded her.

As he fiddled with the dial, she continued to open her shirt, still struggling with the wet buttonholes. Finally, she got it off and dropped it on the floor, then stood and wrestled with the snap at the top of the pants. The zipper came down more easily, and she was just stepping out of the pants when he turned—and made a choked sound.

She’d been automatically getting out of her wet clothes. Now she blinked as she realized she was standing in front of him clad in nothing more than the unfamiliar underwear she’d put on a few hours ago. The revealing underwear.

“Oh!”

Taking a quick step back, she hit the toilet with her legs, throwing herself off balance.

She would have fallen if his hand hadn’t whipped out and grabbed her arms, steadying her, drawing her closer, so that her breasts came to rest against his chest.

Neither of them moved.

“Sorry. I’m . . .”—a phrase she’d learned came to her—“a little out of it.”

“It’s okay.”

She clenched and unclenched her fists. Maybe she could tell him the truth—right now. And everything would be all right. He could help her. Really help her, and she wouldn’t have to keep up the lie that she’d already started.

The moment those thoughts stole into her mind, a stab of pain knifed through her head. She knew it was from Vandar, from what he’d done to her before she’d started her training for this assignment.

“What?”

“I . . .” Unable to stay erect, she sagged against him.

“What?” he asked again, his voice more urgent. “Did a branch hit your head?”

“I don’t . . . know. Maybe,” she managed to whisper, thinking that hitting her head would give her an excuse for her shaky behavior.

“Maybe I shouldn’t leave you alone,” he said in a husky voice.

She wanted to cling to him, and the sympathetic tone she heard in his voice.

No, don’t leave me alone. Help me. You’ve got to help me get out of this trap.

That thought brought another stab of pain, but she was ready for it this time, and for the despair that filled her, because she understood there was nothing he or anyone else could do for her, not on the very basic level where she desperately needed help.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered, pushing away from him.

He studied her face. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

The doubtful look he gave her made her heart turn over.

“I’ll be here, if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

When he stepped away and closed the door behind him, she breathed out a small sigh.

The room was filling with steam, and she marveled at the torrent pouring from the . . . showerhead. She had better wash before she used up his supply of hot water.

She fumbled with the unfamiliar catch on the bra. Why in the name of Carfolian hell was it in the center of her back where it was almost impossible to reach?

As she finally got it open, she glanced toward the door. She was alone with a man in a house that was isolated in the woods. He could take advantage of her, if he wanted.

She struggled to put that thought out of her mind as she pulled off her panties, then climbed into the shower and stuck her hand under the water. It felt wonderful, and she pulled the curtain closed behind her, as much to shield herself as to keep from getting the pounding water on the floor.

TALON listened to the sounds of the woman moving around in the bathroom. When he heard the shower curtain rustle, an image of her naked body leaped into his mind. Annoyed with himself, he made a snorting sound, then turned away and strode down the hall, cursing the male imperative to respond to an attractive woman.

When she’d started getting undressed, he’d had a very nice view of her body. And even as he’d been comforting her, he’d registered the weight of her breasts against his chest.

She’d acted spacey. Not seductive. Unless she was a good actress, pretending to be out of it while she worked her feminine wiles on him.

He clenched his jaw. That last thought was another overreaction, he told himself. Yet there had been something strange about her. Something he didn’t understand. And didn’t trust, to be more specific.

She had an unfamiliar accent. Where did she come from?

With narrowed eyes, he examined the circumstances under which they’d met. She’d been trapped by a massive tree limb as a fire threatened her. Apparently, she’d been out in the storm and gotten into trouble.

And maybe . . .

What?
Someone had sent her to spy on him?

He deliberately relaxed his tense shoulders. He’d been off balance since the cops had stopped by, which was damn annoying.

Back at the front door, he grabbed the flashlight he’d set down. Slipping out into the night, he headed for the lightning strike that had started the fire.

The rain had finished putting out the flames, and his nose told him that the embers were no longer smoldering. But he gave the area a thorough inspection before heading back to the house.

One problem solved, but his mind was still churning as he strode back inside. To distract himself, he stopped in the living room and turned on the flat-screen television set, tuning to a cable news channel. He could see the picture from the kitchen, and with his excellent hearing, he could also follow the commentary.

THE hot water beating down on Kenna felt like a trip to heaven. Looking around the shower enclosure, she found a bar of spicy-smelling soap resting in a niche in the wall. She picked it up, sniffing it before lathering her body. There was also a bottle of something called shampoo, and when she read the directions, she found it was for washing hair. Again, she liked the fragrance as she lathered and rinsed.

She wanted to stay under the pounding water, as much to postpone her inevitable reunion with Talon Marshall as for the warmth. She had been living in a chilly cave for months, and the heat of the water made her sigh with pleasure. At the same time, she knew she couldn’t stay hidden there. So she peered at the lever—which said “hot” on one side and “cold” on the other.

Guessing at what she should do, she turned it all the way to the cold side, and the water went off.

After pulling a towel off a bar fastened to the wall, she marveled at the soft texture as she rubbed it over her skin. It was like nothing she had ever felt, not even when she had lived in Cardon’s household.

When her body was dry, she worked on her hair, getting out as much of the moisture as she could, knowing she was spending so much time on it because she didn’t want to go out and face the man who had rescued her.