his hold on her, then slowly rose, pulling her with him and setting her on the edge of the bed. The movement made her head swim and reminded her that someone with a tiny hammer was busy inside her head.
“You all right?”
She nodded, then winced at the pain the gesture cost her.
He sat beside her. “Here, let me take a look at that.”
She bent her head. “What happened to me?”
“You hit your head,” he said and lifted the bandage he’d applied. “Probably on a rock, or rocks, based on the number of bruises and scratches all over your body.”
She felt every one of them. She ached from one end of her body to the other. “But how did it happen?”
“I don’t know.”
“I was outside alone? In a storm?”
He hesitated, then reapplied the bandage. His fingers brushed her neck as he pulled away, and she couldn’t stop the shiver that ran along her spine.
When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him. He stared at her, his mouth hard, his eyes narrowed. There was no emotion there, and he looked at her now as if she were a stranger. One not to be trusted.
A different shiver, this time one of fear, crept through her. She tightened her hold on the blankets, trying to still the trembling in her hands. Slowly she lifted her gaze to his. “Did you…do this…to me?”
Surprise clearly registered on his face, then exasperation. “No, Sarah, I didn’t do this to you.”
She believed him. She had no idea why she should, but she did. She let out the breath she’d been holding. “But you don’t know what happened?”
He shook his head, then ran a hand through his thick black hair. She stared at his large hands, then looked at her own.
“If we’re married,” she said carefully, “where are our rings?”
He said nothing.
She went still, then whispered, “We aren’t married, are we?”
“No.”
The strangest mixture of relief and disappointment filled her.
And fear.
She closed her eyes and started to shake. What was happening? She had no idea where she was or even who she was. She was in the bed of a man she didn’t know, and she looked and felt as if she’d been the pi&n~;ata at a child’s party.
The man inside her head with a hammer switched to a chainsaw. She opened her eyes again and, through a haze of pain, focused on the stranger sitting beside her. He watched her as if he were the one confused, as if he were suspicious of her.
“Do you even know me?” she asked.
“No.”
No? She drew in a slow breath and pulled the covers closer. He’d said they were married. He’d even climbed into bed with her. That she certainly remembered. Distinctly. Had he thought to take advantage of her in her weakened state? To make her believe they were husband and wife so she wouldn’t fight him if he—
No. She didn’t believe that. He’d had every opportunity if he’d wanted to use her like that. He still did. She was weak as a kitten. He was a big, strong man. It would be impossible to stop him if he had ill intentions toward her. And besides, a man with Caleb’s looks didn’t need to trick any woman into his bed. They’d have to take a number and stand in line. A long line.
“Why…why did you lie to me?” she asked quietly.
His eyes narrowed, and the lines beside his mouth deepened. Rain battered the roof; wind whipped the branches against the window; but the silence between them closed around them like a vise. And that look was there again, in his dark eyes, in the lines between his brows. And then she realized.
He was the one who didn’t trust her.
“You were testing me, weren’t you?” she asked. “You thought I was lying when I told you I don’t know who I am.”
He stood then and looked down at her. She not only felt weak as a kitten, she suddenly felt as small as one, too. He was so tall, six-three at least, she guessed. She’d felt that body against her own, every rock-hard muscle. Everything about the man was dark and dangerous.
And wildly, incredibly exciting.
“Why, Caleb?” she asked again. “Or is that really your name?”
He nodded slowly. “It is. Caleb Hunter.”
Hunter. How appropriate, she thought. And she was the prey. Like a cornered, frightened bird, her heart raced, but she was unable to move, even as he sat back down beside her.
“And my name? Did you make that up?”
He reached toward her, hesitating when she shrank back, then slipped his hand under the collar of her shirt. Her breath held as his fingers skimmed her collarbone. She felt him gently tug on a chain around her neck she hadn’t realized she wore.
“You came with an ID tag,” he said with a crooked smile.
Her hand brushed his as she reached up to touch the necklace. His skin was hot and rough, hers cool and smooth, a blaring reminder of his masculinity against her femininity. A woman alone, with a man she didn’t know.
She held his gaze as he pulled away, then glanced down at the chain. Sarah. A sweeping script of gold letters. She ran her fingers over each letter, trying desperately to remember something, anything. But as before, the attempt only intensified the pounding in her head.
The room began to spin. She swayed slightly, then felt Caleb’s hands on her shoulders, guiding her backward. The pillow cushioned her head, and her pain eased.
“You need to rest,” he said, and started to rise.
“No!” She laid her hand on his arm. “I have to know something. Whatever you can tell me.”
With a sigh, Caleb sat back down. “It was almost midnight. Wolf was unusually restless, agitated, as if he knew there was something wrong. I followed him down to the creek, which is more like a river right now, and I stumbled over you.”
Stunned, Sarah looked at the animal, who had settled down contentedly beside the bed. “I was alone? In the middle of the night, in a storm?”
He nodded. “Not exactly a healthy pastime.”
She struggled to keep her mind clear, to try to comprehend even a little of what Caleb told her. “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital? Or call the police?”
He shook his head. “The roads weren’t passable last night.”
“And now?”
He stared at her for a long time, then rose and walked to the window.
