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reached down, sweeping her up into his arms, and fear
raced over her that he might see the small hole under the bed.
    After picking
her up, he carefully laid her down on the straw-filled mattress, then recovered
the blanket and covered her.
    “Did you hurt
yourself?” he asked. There was a subtle hint of worry in his tone, and although
she wanted nothing more than to smile at that, she glared at him instead. She
would hold her ground, refuse to speak or give him any idea of how he was
affecting her.
    Dante sat beside
her and made to touch her hair. She slapped his hand away and gave him a more
caustic look.
    “I just want to
make sure you didn’t hit your head,” he said. His hands moved her hair from her
face as he examined her. The soft caress of his fingers through her hair did
strange things to her, and she felt the heat of his body as he sat close to her
on the bed.
    “Are you hurt
anywhere else?” he asked. Anya shook her head. “I brought you some fresh bread
with blueberry preserves.” He reached for the basket.
    As he passed her
fresh bread slathered in dark blue preserves her tummy rumbled. She expended a
great deal of her energy at night, burning up the food she ate, making the
healing process go much slower.
    “There’s a pot
of tea on the step. I’ll go get it,” he told her.
    As she devoured
the delicious bread and jam, she watched him. A flutter raced over her as she
eyed his large burly frame. Anya had to admit it—the man was drop-dead
gorgeous. As he returned with the pot and two mugs, she tried to pay attention
only to her food. It was a lot harder than she thought it would be as he poured
them both a steaming cup.
    He sat back down
beside her and passed one of the cups to her. She took a cautious sip of the
hot tea and looked up at Dante. Their gazes met and held for a moment. His eyes
were soft and gentle-looking, and she again had to fight the urge to smile. Silently,
he watched her as she ate her bread and drank her tea. As soon as she was done he
took the basket and pot and then left her alone again. It was strange, she
thought. Even though she’d not spoken a single word to that man since the first
night, she now missed his company after he left.
    It wasn’t long
after Dante left that again she heard the chain being undone from the door. A
smiling, cheery-faced Beth opened it and used a large rock to leave it wide
open. The bright sun’s rays streamed in as did fresh air, and it felt
wonderful. The older woman walked over and moved the table closer to the bed.
    “Do you know how
to knit?” she asked.
    “Umm, no,” Anya
told her.
    “Well, would you
like to learn? I have a ton of socks to knit and darn, and I really could use
an extra set of hands,” she explained still smiling.
    “Okay, I guess
so,” she stated, looking at Beth oddly.
    The sound of
feet on the steps drew both their attentions, and a rather enormous man, who
bore a great resemblance to Dante, stepped in. He carried a wooden rocking
chair.
    “Okay, honey,
where did you want this?” he asked in a near gravely tone. Anya assumed he was
related to her captor.
    “Right there
beside the bed, sweetheart. Oh don’t forget to get Tessa to bring my knitting
and our snacks over please.” Beth spoke to him with such a tone it was easy to tell
who ruled whom.
    “Yes, dear,” the
man said. He gave Anya a quick once over as he set the chair in the exact spot
Beth had indicated.
    “Oh, Anya, this
is my mate, Chris,” Beth told her.
    “Hi, Anya, nice
to meet you,” he said with a near smile.
    “Hi,” Anya said
almost sheepishly.
    As the man left
he went to pick up the rock and close the door. Beth cleared her throat. He
looked over at her and she simply shook her head.
    “I have to close
it,” he told her.
    “The fresh air
and sunshine will help Anya heal, dear. Leave it open.”
    “But Dante said—”
    “I said leave it
open.” The woman gave her mate a hard look, and he put the rock back to hold
the