What the hell had happened to him?
He remembered the rain. The sting of it on his face as he struggled through wet brush and soggy grass. He remem- bered the scent of grass and rich earthy soil and from somewhere the sweet lingering smell of wild wet roses.
Hagan closed his eyes tightly and tried to turn over to alleviate some of the pain in his side. But something held him down; he couldn’t move. When he realized that something was tied around his wrists, he opened his eyes and frowned. His disbelieving gaze moved toward his right arm, which felt numb. He could hardly believe it when he saw thereason. He was tied with some thin material to the bed. Then he realized his spread-eagled feet were similarly tied to the foot of the bed.
“What the hell?” he muttered.
He jerked his arm against the restraint and began to curse. And even though his movements caused the pain in his head to become even more excruciating, he continued kicking his feet against the bindings.
He turned his head suddenly toward the sleeping woman and saw that she had come awake. Her face was turned slightly away from him and was in shadow, but she was looking at him fearfully, as if he were the very devil come to life.
Why the hell should she be afraid? He was the one tied up like a Christmas turkey.
“Please,” Sarah whispered. She stood up and lifted her hand toward him, but she didn’t move any closer to the bed. “Don’t do that. I’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself.”
Hagan grunted humorlessly and gritted his teeth.
“Hurt myself?” he said, his tone incredulous. “Dar- lin’, I believe someone has already beat me to that,” he replied sarcastically. “You didn’t happen to get the li- cense number of the truck that hit me did you?”
The first thing Sarah noticed, besides his deep voice, was that it carried the soft, rolling accent of the South. And that surprised her. She’d been so certain he was what Lacy referred to as a transplanted Yankee.
“I…I was afraid you’d try to get up while I was asleep,” she said, lying. “That you might injure yourself.” Now that the man was awake and staring at her with those an- gry, glittering eyes, she didn’t have the nerve to tell him that she’d tied him to the bed because she was afraid of him.
She still was. Seeing those furious eyes made her even more fearful than before.
“Look,” Sarah said. “Why don’t you just tell me who you are and what happened, then I’ll…”
The man frowned and shook his head. There was an odd, confused expression on his face as his eyes moved quickly over the room and then down at his own body.
“What the hell’s going on here?” he muttered. A sheen of perspiration glistened on his forehead and his skin had turned very pale.
“Are you all right?” Sarah asked. She moved toward the bed. “Are you in pain or—”
It was his eyes that stopped her. Those cold, dark eyes that pinned her to the floor and kept her from coming any closer.
“What did you give me…did you drug me? What the devil’s going on?” His voice cracked and Sarah could hear panic in its depths.
“I…I didn’t give you anything…of course I didn’t drug you.”
He seemed genuinely confused and alarmed as he glared at her. Was his problem mental? Was he some paranoid patient who had escaped from a hospital?
“Just tell me your name,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft and non threatening.
“I…” He frowned again and shook his head. His mouth opened as if to speak, but no words came out.
“That’s the problem,” he finally managed to say. “My God. I don’t know…I don’t know my own name.” He looked up at her and swallowed hard.
Sarah bit her lip, staring at him for a moment. But she believed him. The desperation and confusion on his face could not be faked. Besides, as a nurse, she knew that short-term amnesia was not uncommon with a head wound, not to mention the trauma he’d obviously experi- enced last night.
His gruff voice dragged her attention back to reality.
“Untie me,” he demanded. In one split second his ex- pression changed from one of confusion to anger. “Cut these…these damn things…” The muscles in his arms strained against the nylons as he pulled, only making them tighter.
“Don’t…” she said, reaching out.
“Look sugar,” he growled. “I don’t know what game you’re playing here or who the hell you think you are, but I want out of here. And I want out now.”
Sarah stood very still. She did feel sympathy for him. She even believed he was telling the truth. But she wasn’t about to untie him…not after seeing that dark look of fury in his eyes.
“Am I not making myself clear?” he snapped. He strained against the ties until the entire bed shook. “Where are the others? Tell your boss man I want to see him. Agh…”
He gasped as a pain shot from his ribs all the way to the top of his head. It forced him to close his eyes and lean his head back against the pillow. As his body tensed from the pain he took a long, deep breath of air.
“Please…calm down,” Sarah said. “You’re making absolutely no sense. I think you probably have amne- sia. .. from the wound to your head. But I have no idea who this boss man is you want to see.”
“Oh, that’s cute,” he said. “I’ll have to give you credit, baby, you have this sweet innocent act down pat.”
“What?” Sarah asked, blinking against his sarcastic accusations.
“Look,” he said, his voice hard with impatience. “Someone had to carry me in here. Do you really expect me to believe you did that all by yourself?” His eyes raked over her petite figure.
“I can’t help what you believe or what you don’t be- lieve,” Sarah said. She hardly knew what to think of the man and his strange accusations. Was he delirious? “But that’s exactly what happened. I dragged you in here my- self.”
“Yeah, right.”
Hagan stared at the woman in the wavering light of the lamp. Her actions were suspicious even now. After all, she had tied him up. And she seemed very careful to stay out of his reach in case he broke away from his bindings. She kept her face turned slightly away from him, just out of the small circle of light that the lamp made, as if she didn’t want him to be able to identify her later.
“Untie me,” he said, cursing again and pulling against his restraints.
“I…I can’t do that,” she said.
Sarah didn’t know what to do. Doubts swirled around in her head. The man was wounded and obviously in great pain. But he was surprisingly strong and more than a little determined. The thought of keeping him tied, of keeping anyone tied was repulsive to her. She didn’t even like the idea of keeping a bird or animal caged or bound. But there was a look about him—a wild-eyed look of danger that frightened her and warned her not to let him loose so quickly.
“Now, dammit,” he said, the words coming like a growl from deep in his chest.
“Listen to me,” Sarah said. She crossed her arms over her chest, almost protectively, and took one step back- ward, away from the intensity of his eyes. Those eyes that were still hidden in the shadows of the dim room.
“I’m a nurse and this is where I live. There was a very bad storm last night and the lights and phone are still out. You came to my porch, wounded and bleeding, with your hands tied behind your back.”
The man frowned and glanced down at his wrists where the red marks from the plastic ties were still visible.
“I had no idea who you were, but I tried to help you as best I could. Still, I’d be a fool to go to sleep with a man in my house that I don’t know, a man someone tried to kill. Now I’m sorry if you’re uncomfortable, but—”
“Uncomfortable?” he growled. He was staring at her as if she were the crazy one. “Uncomfortable, lady, is hardly the word I’d use to describe how I’m feeling at this mo- ment.”
“You won’t have to stay here much longer,” she said, shaken by the intensity of his anger. She thought she’d never met a man with such ra
w fury, as if it were just waiting to explode.
“Really?” he drawled, his voice caustic. “What are you waiting for—the marines?”
“Your sarcasm is not going to make me trust you any quicker,” she said quietly. “As soon as the phone is back on, I’ll call the sheriff and—”
“No,” he said, moving restlessly as if he might lunge at her. “No sheriff,” he said, shaking his head. “And no doctors.”
Hagan shook his head. He didn’t know where it came from, but some deep, gut-wrenching intuition told him not to trust anyone. Not the sheriff. Not even a doctor.
Sarah signed with exasperation.
“Why?” she asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“I don’t know why.” He chewed at his lower lip and seemed lost in thought. “Intuition,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “At the moment it’s all I have. All I can do is ask you to trust me.”
Sarah laughed, a quick noise of disbelief.
“Trust you?” she asked.
“I guess you’d be a fool to trust a stranger who wan- dered into your house in the middle of the night,” he said. He wished he could see her better. That she would step closer to the bed so he could see her eyes.
“Yes, I certainly would,” she agreed.
“And you’re not a fool,” he said, his voice growing quiet.
Sarah turned her head to one side as she caughtia dif- ferent tone in his voice. She watched him as if he were a snake, getting ready to strike.
What was it in his voice? A hint of flirtatiousness…a seductive flattery?
Charm, she decided. Plain, old-fashioned Southern charm. Calculated to win her over, if she weren’t mis- taken. But charm it was, and it seemed to come quite eas- ily to this man.
“But I do know one thing about you,” he continued.
“What’s that?” she asked, still cautious.
“If you were willing to call the sheriff to help me, then you probably aren’t involved with any of the people who tried to kill me.”
“I told you I’m not.”
“You have to remember,” he said with an arch of his brow. “I don’t know you any better than you know me.”
Sarah nodded slowly. “That’s true.”
“But tell the truth,” he said. “Could I really have been lucky enough to wander into the home of a nurse? And one who lives out in the middle of God knows where?” He glanced with curiosity around the room.
“I swear I’m a nurse,” she said. Without realizing it, her hand moved up to touch the scar on her face, still hidden in the shadows from the man on the bed. “Although to be perfectly honest, I haven’t practiced nursing for over a year. That’s why I’d feel much better if you’d at least let me call a doctor…”
“And safer?” he asked, his eyes glinting at her.
“And safer,” she admitted.
“Sorry, honey…no doctors.”
Sarah shivered at the flinty dismissal in his voice. He might not know who he was, but he certainly seemed to know what he wanted. “Maybe I should point out that you’re hardly in a position to be making any kind of de- mands,” she said, openly challenging him, despite the way her insides trembled.
He grew very still and his gaze reached across the room to confront her.
“You can’t stay awake forever,” he said, his voice quiet…deadly.
Sarah shivered. Something in his eyes frightened her. But she met his gaze, determined not to back down from his challenge.
“Someone tried to kill you,” she said. “I did the best I could, but you have this memory loss, which could be a sign of something even more serious. I wish you’d just let me—”
“I said no.”
Hagan stared at the woman through narrowed eyes, trying to decide if she was lying, and if she really was what she said. Slowly he let his gaze wander around the room, taking in the faded wallpaper and old furniture.
She didn’t belong here, he was sure of that.
But where did she belong? She’d said it was where she lived, but somehow the pieces didn’t all seem to fit where she was concerned. If this wasn’t her home, then whose was it and why was she here alone?
“What’s your name?” he asked, turning his gaze back to her. He noticed how pale her skin was and now that his eyes had focused somewhat he could see that her dark hair held glints of auburn in the dim light. She was small and fragile and quite beautiful from what little he could see.
But it was her eyes that captured his attention. They were big and expressive and seemed to be a very pale color—blue or green, he couldn’t tell. They were fringed with dark, thick lashes and in the depths of those eyes, Hagan thought he’d never seen such sadness. And he wondered why.
“My name is Sarah James,” she said without hesitat- ing.
“Sarah,” he said, his voice deep and low.
Sarah blushed.
There it was again, that hint of something in his voice. That charming hint of quiet intimacy that made her feel jumpy and self-conscious. As if he’d touched her. As if he knew her and could actually see into her thoughts.
“Well, Sarah James,” he said, his voice still holding that odd caressing tone. “I can’t help noticing that someone has undressed me.” Hagan glanced with wry amusement down at his bare chest and stomach. “That would have been you, I presume…since we’re all alone here.”
“I…yes,” she said, lifting her chin and meeting his rather mocking gaze. “Of course it was me. You were wet. Your clothes were wet and…after all, I am a nurse,” she added with exasperation.
“You don’t have to explain,” he said, still mocking her. “But since you refuse to cut me loose, I suppose you’ll just have to help me with a few things.” His steady look was devilish.
Sarah looked puzzled.
“The bathroom?” he said with a knowing lift of his brows.
“Oh. Oh…yes…of course.”
He had managed to catch her completely off balance and for the life of her she didn’t know what to say. Or what to do.
She put her hands to her burning cheeks. She couldn’t understand why he made her feel so unfocused and em- barrassed. She had helped male patients with every inti- mate bodily function imaginable. At this point there wasn’t much about the male anatomy that she didn’t know.
But not this man’s, her mind whispered.
“All right,” she said finally, pressing her lips together. “I’ll untie you.” She walked to a closet and took a faded flannel robe from a hook on the door, and laid it across the rocking chair.
“You can put this on. Then I’ll come back and help you down the hall to the bathroom.”
“I can manage that by myself,” he said tersely.
Sarah detected an intense pride in his voice that sur- prised her and it caused her to reply in a softer, gentler voice than she might have before.
“Don’t be foolish about this,” she said. “I said I’ll come back and help you.”
Without looking at him again, she quickly untied his arms and went to the foot of the bed to undo the nylons around his ankles. Her arms brushed against his cold feet and she felt a twinge of guilt.
As soon as he was free she backed away, being careful to keep her scarred face turned away from him. He moved his legs restlessly and rubbed his hands against the bed covers to restore their circulation.
Sarah glanced at him once, then whirled around to leave the room. She wouldn’t be surprised if he threw the cov- ers back with nothing on, just to see her reaction. She thought he definitely had a cantankerous streak. And she had the feeling that he was used to doing pretty much as he pleased where women were concerned. She wasn’t sure why that thought should surprise her. Or bother her.
In the hallway Sarah waited a few seconds, then tapped on the bedroom door. She heard his muttered reply for her to come in. She didn’t know how he had managed to stand on his own but he was standing, although he looked a bit unsteady.
He was taller than she thought and t
hough he was slen- der, he looked even more powerful standing than he had in bed.
She went across to help him, hesitating only a moment before getting close. She was careful to position herself so that her hair hid the side of her face as she helped support him. He leaned rather heavily on her and she noted how unsteady he was as he walked. He was much weaker than he wanted to admit.
The walk to the bathroom was a short one. The house was small, with only four rooms and a bath. But those few steps left the man breathing heavily and Sarah noticed a thin coating of perspiration on his forehead as she stopped outside the bathroom.
“You sure you can manage alone?” she asked doubt- fully.
He gave her a wry look and grunted, then with teeth gritted, he pulled away from her. He stumbled and caught himself with his right arm against the frame of the door. He was so pale that Sarah thought he might pass out right at her feet. But she could see the stubborn determination on his face and she knew he wasn’t about to let her go into the bathroom with him, nurse or not.
She couldn’t help smiling slightly as she watched him go inside and close the door. She walked down the hallway to the front door and glanced outside. It would be daylight soon. Tom was still sleeping. She could see his long tail curled outside the box. Everything seemed perfectly nor- mal and she was grateful for that.
She waited in the hallway outside the bathroom. What an odd man this stranger was. His look of confusion when he couldn’t remember his name had touched her. And yet, in a few moments, he had managed to cover his fears well. Even inject a little sarcastic humor into the conversation.
But was there something in his subconscious…some intuition of who or what he was that made him refuse to let her call the sheriff?
He was in danger. And he didn’t trust anyone.
She understood that. Her question was—could she trust him?
Sarah glanced toward the hall tree. Leaning against it was her grandfather’s old shotgun. It wasn’t loaded; she would never keep a loaded gun in the house. But now she looked at it thoughtfully. She walked to the hall tree and let her hand rest on the barrel of the gun just as the stranger emerged from the bathroom across from her.
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