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angel for your brother in precisely such a situation as this one. He must have known Keith was not yet fully capable of handling the business," Court suggested placatingly, as if making a faint attempt to atone for his remark about self-sufficiency.
    "I suppose," Leya allowed, losing interest in the matter. "Well, I'll drop this in the mail tonight so that it will go out first thing in the morning. It will get back to Santa Rosa before I do." She waved the contract briefly and started forward just as if Court weren't standing between her and the door.
    But in spite of her air of determined self-confidence, Court didn't step aside. She was forced to halt in front of him, as he stood with his back to the door, his hands behind him on the knob. There was an almost grim, brooding aspect in the tightened lines at his mouth and eyes. For a moment, he said nothing, watching her as she stopped warily a few steps away.
    "Court?" she tried tentatively, uncertain of his mood. Carefully, she smiled, striving for a cool, calm look, when what she secretly wanted to do was give in to a very primitive urge to run. "Is breakfast still on?"
    "How long will you be staying here at the inn?" he asked, ignoring the trivial question of breakfast. He watched her as if she were a small, nervous animal he wanted to catch. Prey, Leya thought uncomfortably. He really did see her as prey. Her only defense was not to act as if she saw herself the same way!
    "Five more days," she told him coolly, agreeably, as if the conversation were quite normal and hadn't taken on overtones of the sort of raw menace that can only exist between a man and a woman. The menace might be present, she thought bracingly, but so were the intervening layers of civilization. She wasn't in genuine danger. Not unless she wanted to be! She returned his watchfulness with a polite, questioning glance, her head high. "And you?"
    "About the same," he returned laconically. The gold-flecked eyes went to the contract in her hand and back to her unruffled expression. His voice deepened several shades to a throaty male command that was part plea. "Stay with me tonight, Leya. Please."
    "Court," she said gently, "we've already discussed this. I can't. It's just... too soon."
    Her hand moved in a helpless, ineffectual little gesture.
    "You're afraid of me?" he rasped.
    "Of course not!" she denied, trying to smile. She refused to think about the different aspects of fear. Not now. Now, she had to keep all her wits and self-control about her. She could do it. She knew herself to be both intelligent and strong, and she called on both qualities in full measure.
    "You don't have to be afraid, Leya," he coaxed, as if she hadn't just disavowed any fear. "My trap is baited very pleasantly, I promise. You won't even hear it when the door shuts behind you."
    "And in the morning?" she persisted in a distant voice, thinking that walking out of this room tonight was going to be one of the most difficult things she had ever done.
    "By morning, there won't be any more talk of going back to your own bed at night!"
    he growled thickly, his eyes moving over her in a near-physical touch.
    Leya swallowed at the sheer audacity of his words, her hand clutching the contract in a desperate, white-knuckled grip. "No," she whispered. "I need time, Court. A little more time . . ." Her words were a plea and she hated that. It wasn't like her at all!
    "Time for more games?" he rapped.
    "No! Time to be sure!" she flung back, growing angry. Couldn't he understand? For a long, heart-stopping moment, she wasn't at all certain he would even try to see her side of the matter, and then his lids dropped in a speculative, slitted glance. She was keenly aware of the fact that he was literally putting a tight grip on his instincts and desires. Civilization was asserting itself.
    "I'll see you back to your room," he finally announced, turning to open the door. He caught her arm as she walked forward, tucking it under his in a