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emphasis.
    There was no point in deliberately antagonizing a trigger-happy female, and Jacob had done what he’d set out to do. He eased himself to the ground and pulled the blanket up to his waist, shivering for effect.
    â€œYou know where the rest of my clothes are, ma’am?” he asked.
    â€œDo you think you are going somewhere, señor? ”
    â€œNot just yet.”
    Eyeing him suspiciously, Caridad stalked past him to look in on the cows. She seemed satisfied, for shequickly returned, stopped to regale Jacob with another threatening stare, then left the barn.
    With a sigh, he settled back on the straw. He would need a good sleep to let his body recover from the forced Change. By dawn he would be almost as good as new.
    And then he would be fit for whatever his conscience decided he should do.
    Â 
    T HERE WAS NOT the remotest chance of intimacy with the man in the barn.
    Constantine, Serenity reminded herself. A strong name. The name of the first Christian Roman emperor.
    Christian this man might be, but her opinion of him had not changed, at least not in its fundamentals.
    She released the calf she’d been examining back to its anxious mother and crouched back on her heels. Her finger stung where she had pricked it through her glove on a cactus spine, all because of her carelessness. And that was because she’d been thinking about Constantine.
    About the way he talked: soft, low and courteous, as if he actually had respect for her and the other women. He had expressed gratitude, and at no time had he offered any threat. He’d warned her about the outlaws, and he’d admitted that he’d permitted the outlaws to ambush him.
    He had even complimented her.
    That had surprised her, caught her off guard for a moment or two. But of course it wasn’t really a compliment to say she was a “good shot.” He was just surprised that a woman could be handy with a gun. Just as he’d been more than surprised to learn that a woman could be a ranch boss.
    Of course, she hadn’t meant to admit that there were no men at Avalon; she still had no idea why she’d done it, except that his assumption that he would need to speak to her “menfolk” about the possible dangers posed by the Blake gang had made her reckless.
    Foolish. The stupid mistake of a child.
    Serenity got to her feet and looked across the range in the direction of the house, a quarter mile to the west at the foot of the rocky, yucca-clad hills that rose steeply to the base of the Organ Mountains. It was still early in the morning, but her feet already itched to get back to the barn.
    Constantine had been sleeping—or at least pretending to be asleep—when she’d checked on him just after dawn. Caridad had been standing watch since midnight, at her own insistence, while Serenity snatched a few hours of sleep. Since sunrise, Zora, Nettie and Victoria had been out looking for any sign of intruders. Serenity was nagged by the constant worry that they might find what they were looking for.
    She had her own chores to do, but she found she couldn’t concentrate. She trusted Caridad completely, but Constantine wasn’t Cari’s responsibility.
    He was hers. And even after his warnings and compliments and admissions of mistakes, all his sincere looks and honorable words, she never doubted that he was still dangerous—and would become even more so when he recovered.
    Whistling softly to Cleo, she mounted and started back for the house.
    Bonnie came to meet her as she rode in.
    â€œI’m glad you’re here,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “Changying asked me to tell you that Judith and Frances are ill. She has confined them both to bed with…” She paused and then continued as if reciting lines she had been given to repeat. “‘Disturbance of the upper jiao, congestion of the lungs and nostrils, lethargy, shaking chills and a general imbalance of qi.