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anything that he might be hiding!
    She closed her eyes. She couldn’t leave. She had to help Lorna. Yet at what cost to herself?
    She started her half-limping, idle wandering about the room once again. And then her thoughts took on a sudden change as her eyes fell on a picture on his desk in a plain brass frame. The picture was of a young woman who had a face with a classic beauty in fine oval features and more. The photographer had caught her animation, the sparkle of dark amber eyes, even the whirling flow of golden blond hair.
    As Donna pondered the small portrait, Mary suddenly swept back into the room, holding a bandage. “Donna! You shouldn’t be standing on that foot!”
    Donna swallowed guiltily. “I-I’m sorry, Mary. But I had to try it—and it is so much better. Thank you. And I am so sorry if I soaked your carpet—”
    “The carpet will dry! Not to worry about a thing like that! But you get off that foot now and stand only when you have to.”
    Donna started to hobble obediently back to the sofa, but she couldn’t resist one backward glance to the portrait. Mary saw the direction of her eyes and smiled sadly. “April was a lovely, lovely girl, don’t you think? Ahhh…Luke was so in love with her. And she with him. But…the good Lord takes us all when he will.”
    Donna was glad she had reached the sofa, for she would have fallen to the floor without it. As it was, it was all she could do to hold back a gasp of shock. God grant it, “Father” Luke gave the appearance of being an extremely healthy and virile man; he had eyes like the devil himself and exuded strength and vibrant sensuality—but the man was a priest!
    How could his kindly housekeeper speak so nonchalantly about his loving a woman? Unless, of course, this April had been his wife before he became a priest? Her shock receded then, and she recalled with a sympathetic poignancy his words: “No, young women in their twenties shouldn’t die,” words that had held a note of bitter pain.
    She swallowed quickly, attempting a small smile as Mary’s eyes turned to hers. She couldn’t resist further temptation.
    “Who…uh…was she, Mary?”
    “Why, April, Donna? Ahh…and just like a spring day, she was. So sweet, and gentle. And—”
    “Mary!”
    The housekeeper’s name was called sharply from the doorway. Neither woman had noticed that the door had swung open—or that the priest had returned to tower within it. Except that he didn’t look like a priest any more. He was still in black, but now he wore a light-blue open-neck knit shirt beneath a casual black leather jacket.
    He might have just stepped from a page of The New Yorker. Elegantly casual man about town, the type who drove a Ferrari and had a dozen blondes practically purring as they lounged about him in sleek poses.
    “Excuse me”—his tone gentled and he offered a brief smile to his housekeeper—“but we have to hurry, Mary.” His glance turned sharply to Donna. “Ms. Miro? I’m afraid we’ll have to go now if we’re to make our appointment. I do think you need time to make yourself a little more presentable.”
    Donna automatically placed a hand on the escaping tendrils of her hair. She was a disaster. No pantyhose, no shoes. One foot soaked and still dripping. Clothing dirtied and crumpled, hair a disheveled mass. And she was going to the Oak Room with a man who was definitely the most striking individual she had ever encountered.
    “Luke! Give the girl a minute!” Mary said firmly. She smiled warmly at Donna. “Give me just a second. I’ll get an Ace bandage wrapped around your ankle and it’ll be as good as new!”
    Mary gave her employer a chastising stare as she bent down and took Donna’s ankle in her hand. Donna had to grit her teeth for a minute as Mary wrapped the bandage around her ankle, but once it was in place and her shoes were back on, she found that she could stand with little discomfort.
    “Ms. Miro? Are we ready yet?” The priest queried