shook her head in denial. If he’d been struck hard enough to render him unconscious for hours, then he would have a severe concussion. Yet at the moment he didn’t display a single symptom of a head injury.
He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t believe me.”
“My husband is missing. You’re not. I’m sorry, Ross, but your story has a few holes in it.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Like the Jesse James suite was the truth? Or what about the white stallion your father caught trying to steal mares from the stable, which turned out to be a valuable circus horse kidnapped for ransom? I believed those tall tales, at first.” She jumped to her feet and paced. The snakes in her belly writhed painfully. “If this is some kind of horrible joke you and Quentin have concocted, it isn’t funny. It will never be funny.”
“Dawn, look at me. Do you see me laughing? Do you see one teeny-tiny ha ha anywhere in this scenario? Yeah, I like a good joke, but I’m not cruel.”
She paused in her pacing and stared miserably at the floor. “Then where is Quentin?”
“I don’t know.” He combed his fingers through his hair and frowned, his gaze distant. “Look around. See if he left a note. A message on the phone. Anything.”
She had already looked, but did so again. Confirming that all of Quentin’s luggage and other belongings were missing only heightened her fear. “Robbers,” she said. “They stole all of Quentin’s belongings and took him hostage. I must call the police.”
“Robbers,” he echoed, making no attempt to soften his skepticism. “I can think of a lot easier things to steal than your husband. Maybe it was Quentin who Stefan saw carrying luggage to the parking lot.”
“Are you saying he deserted me?”
He lowered his face.
“He wouldn’t do that. He loves me. We’re newlyweds!” She rushed to the telephone. “I must call the police. Quentin could be hurt. Oh my God, he’s been kidnapped—”
“Haven’t you forgotten something?”
She pressed the handset to her breast. “What?”
“I’m in my birthday suit.”
His meaning sank in. A naked man who was not her husband, but inside her honeymoon cabin, might distract investigators. Not to mention the embarrassing scandal it would cause when Ross’s family and the resort employees found out. Her only consolation was that all her guests had returned to Colorado Springs. Deliberately scandalous acts were usually forgiven, but stupidity rarely was. Ending up with the wrong man in her bridal bed reeked of idiocy. She caught her lower lip in her teeth.
The more she considered it, the more Ross’s words rang with truth. This situation was cruel. Not to mention the fact that her valuables weren’t missing. If robbers had invaded the cabin, why wouldn’t they have stolen her wallet and jewelry? She hung up the telephone. “Did you say something to Quentin?”
He drew his head warily aside. “Like what?”
Guilt tangled with her fear. Quentin could have intuited her doubts about the wisdom of their marriage, or worse, somehow sensed her attraction to Ross. Quentin could have punished her by arranging for Ross to end up in her bed.
“About us. Did you say something to make him jealous?”
Her question appeared to offend him. He rose from the bed and straightened the sheet about his waist.
“Answer me.”
“You don’t deserve an answer.”
“You can’t deny you tried to stop me from marrying him.”
“Any aspirin around here?” He headed for the bathroom.
“Answer me!”
He turned her a black scowl. “Yeah, I didn’t want you marrying him. He’s a sleazebag and you’re too good for him. But I didn’t say a word about you to him. I’d never hurt you like that. Not in a million years.”
“If you’re trying to convince me of your nobility, it’s not working. That’s a mean, rotten thing to say about your best friend.”
“Best friend?” He snorted. “I barely know the guy.”
Before she could demand an explanation of what he meant, he entered the bathroom and closed the door.
ROSS EXCHANGED the bulky sheet for a bathrobe. As he tied the belt, he gazed at the Elk River logo embroidered on the robe. Harassing the colonel was a lot of fun, but this mix-up held the potential to give the old man a stroke. Not to mention the harm it might do to Dawn. What a mess.
He cursed himself for not listening to his gut instincts concerning Quentin Bayliss.
Steeling himself, grateful that the fuzziness in his head had abated, he opened the bathroom door.
Dawn was perched on the edge of a chair, her hands clenched in her lap and her feet pressed together on the floor. The Elk River robe swaddled her slim shoulders and the hem pooled around her feet, making her look smaller than she was. Her calm was an illusion. Her big, blue eyes spoke loudly of her pain and fear. For one of the few times in his life, words eluded him.
“I called Janine,” she said.
His mouth fell open.
“I had to call someone.”
He dropped onto a chair. “Why my sister?”
“You’d rather I’d called the Colonel? Janine is bringing clothing for you.” Her chin quivered and her eyes glistened. “I didn’t tell her anything. I didn’t know what to tell her. Should I call the police? What shall I tell them?”
“I don’t know.” He closed his eyes, not looking forward to confronting Janine. She was almost as hardheaded as the Colonel.
“There must be a reasonable explanation.”
Her quavering voice threatened to break his heart. He didn’t see anything reasonable about any of this. He fingered the half-dollar sized tender bump on the back of his head. He couldn’t figure out how an injury so minor could have knocked him out. Or given him a headache that had temporarily felt like the world’s worst hangover. Since he hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol last night, it made no sense whatsoever.
“Everything has a reasonable explanation,” she said. “With a bit of thought and applied logic, an answer can be found for any mystery.”
Her determined efforts to make sense out of senselessness made his heart ache. “Did you and Quent argue last night? Stefan told me there was some kind of disturbance at the reception.”
She played with her wedding ring. “We didn’t argue. He became a trifle upset when Connie brought Desdemona Hunter to the reception. Her photographer upset Quentin.”
“Desdemona…The name is familiar.”
