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surprise. There had been no premeditation
on her part, and to the best of her ability, she had not touched
him back. The choice was lost to her now.
    Chiding herself for foolishness, she used
her free hand to smooth his hair behind his car—and immediately
knew her fears had not been foolish.
    The warmth of his skin unsettled her, making
her aware of the pure animal aliveness of him. Equally startling
was the texture of his hair. She would not have guessed it to be so
sinfully soft and sensuous, so at odds with the hard strength of
his body. The straight dark strands slid through her fingers and
drifted across her palm as she moved them aside to expose his
throat. With absentminded care, she trailed the pads of her fingers
along the back of his neck, feeling the heat and vulnerability of
his nape, and the subtle shift he made to increase their
contact.
    He wasn’t dangerous to touch. He was heaven,
strong and warm, sensual and responsive, his body so wonderfully
different from hers.
    The rising of his lashes captured her
attention and drew her thoughts away from his silken hair. She
lowered her eyes to meet his—and was trapped by the green fire of
his knowing gaze. Mortified, she pulled her hand away, letting his
hair return to his back and slide to his waist.
    To his credit, he didn’t give her one of his
wry smiles. He didn’t tease her. She almost wished he had, anything
to break the embarrassment engulfing her.
    “This is going to sting,” she said, forcing
the few words out and using the most clinical voice she could
manage with a full-blown blush coursing across her cheeks. She’d
been fondling the man.
    He said nothing, only glanced away after a
reflective perusal of her eyes. When she went on to clean his
wound, he didn’t flinch. Not so much as a flicker of discomfort
showed on his face, though she knew from experience that the
antiseptic stung like the dickens. She finished tending him,
fighting twinges of guilt as she added another bandage to match the
one on his shoulder. He wasn’t supposed to have gotten hurt while
under her care. Something had to be done with him, before anything
else happened.
    “I don’t want you to touch me again,” she
said. That sounded good, real good, and would certainly help with
her overawareness of him. She smoothed a strip of first-aid tape
into place. “If you’ll keep your hands to yourself, I’m sure Jen
will do the same with his swords. You’re safe while you’re here, so
there’s no need to go around attacking people.”
    “I wasn’t attacking you,” he said, sounding
at least as irritated with himself as she was with herself. “I was
protecting you.”
    She gave him an incredulous look. “From
Henry?”
    “From a stranger. You said there was no one
else here. Only you, and me, and Jen.” He turned his head to meet
her gaze. “Don’t lie to me, Sugar,” he warned. “I’ve got damn few
facts to work with to keep myself alive.”
    She’d never been called a liar. It was an
utterly novel and not very pleasant experience.
    “When we were in the bungalow,” she said,
“there were only three people here. I’m not sure why Henry came
back tonight, but I asked him not to return until morning.”
    “Why?”
    “In case you still hadn’t come around.” She
crossed the first piece of tape with another.
    “What would you have done with me, if I
hadn’t?”
    “I would have gotten you better medical
care.”
    He shot her a hard look. “In other words, if
I die, I can leave.”
    She just stared at him, appalled at the
conclusion he’d drawn. “You were brought here so you would be safe.
I am supposed to take care of you. I can take of you,” she told
him, feeling far more than her pride was at stake. “You aren’t in
danger. I swear.”
    A short bark of laughter escaped him, the
sound as good as calling her a liar again.
    “I am not lying to you,” she said. “Shulan’s
only concern is for your welfare.”
    In answer, he lifted one winged