Grimly Wolf folded his hands against his chin. "That's why you were so leery of me."
"No kidding. I didn't recognize you, and
Summers
hires men from out of state to do his dirty work. I'd fallen for the forest-ranger trick once, and wasn't about to fall for it again."
Wolf's throat tightened with barely held emotions. "What happened?"
Refusing to look over at him, Sarah said, "I'm ashamed to talk about it. I mean, I was so stupid, so naive, when they walked into camp. Rangers are around fairly often, since the mine sits in the national forest. I didn't think anything of them coming for a visit. . . ."
Without thinking, Wolf reached over and gripped her clasped hands on the table. He saw the shame in her eyes, and he couldn't stand aside and not try to ease her discomfort. No one should suffer alone. Her head snapped up and he saw the devastation in her features. "Sarah," he told her quietly, "you can tell me."
His hand was rough and callused on hers. Sarah was wildly aware of Wolf's warmth and strength. It drove tears into her eyes, and she quickly bowed her head. "I'm still angry about it. I believed those two, and let them in my camp. Anyway, they got close enough to haul me out from beneath the roots of this fir I was working under by the scruff of my neck. My blouse ripped. . ." Sarah shut her eyes. Her voice was low and off-key. She couldn't stand to know what Wolf thought of the next admission. Forcing herself, she whispered, "I—I fought them. They pinned me down."
Automatically his hand tightened around her small ones. Fury, cold and biting, wound through Wolf. Sar
ah's voice was wobbling, and her skin had gone damp. His mouth grew dry. Terrible scenes from his past blipped in front of him as he held Sarah's wide, frightened eyes. "Did
they.
. .rape you?"
Sarah shook her head, still refusing to look up at Wolf. "No. I made a grab for my prospector's hammer and swung it as hard as I could at the guy who had pinned me. It knocked him out for a second. When he let go, I scrambled up. Once I was on my feet, the second guy took off running. By the time I got to my
rifle,
they'd both
hightailed
it out of the area."
"When did this happen? '“
"Three months ago."
Wolf released a shaky breath, feeling perspiration collect on his brow. He consciously forced himself to relax. "No wonder you didn't trust me."
Sarah lifted her Sashes just enough to risk looking at his features. There was harsh anger in his thundercloud-gray eyes, and the fury was translated into the gravelly snarl in his voice. "I survived," she said quietly. "That's what counted."
The urge to gather Sarah into his arms and protect her nearly undid Wolf. He gently squeezed her fingers,
then
reluctantly released them. A flashback overcame him: He was walking into the village, seeing the dead and dying, hearing the screams of unprotected children and the cries of women. He squeezed his eyes shut. "No," he managed to say hoarsely. He shook his head, forcing the memory away. "There's more than just surviving something like that, Sarah.
A hell of a lot more."
The rawness of Wolf's voice forced Sarah to make eye contact with him. Something tragic, something terrible, had happened to him. His face was twisted with pain, and his eyes were filled with such anguish and understanding that tears leaked out of hers.
"Then, I don't know what it is," she whispered,
selfconsciously
wiping the tears off her cheeks. "I survived. I'm alive."
Wolf sat back, wrestling with an array of unexpected emotions from the past that were now coupled to the present. "Women and children who've been victimized wear the scars for the rest of their lives, Sarah, unless something's done to help them undo the trauma."
Tilting her head, she held his gray gaze, which was still dark with tortured secrets. "Ever since it happened, I've been really jumpy," she admitted.
"I'm sure. Do you get nightmares?"
Sarah hesitated, the need to share her worst fears with Wolf outdistancing her usual shell of self-defense.
"
Yes.
. .sometimes. . . .Usually, I can't get to sleep." She gave a small shrug and looked away. "It's stupid. I see their shadows on the walls in my bedroom. I'll just be falling asleep, and I'll see them moving toward me."
Wolf nodded. He knew the litany all too well.
"Insomnia, nightmares, and a special kind of wariness."
"I call it animal awareness. My hearing's sharper now—my senses are alive like never before since it happened," Sarah said. She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled.
Wolf frowned and slowly got to his feet. "Let's get those feet of yours soaked in warm water and ice-pack them before you go to bed," he said gruffly. He didn't want to talk any more about violence. He walked toward the counter, a terrible sinking feeling stalking him as he realized that he hadn't been able to escape what had happened in South America. It was here, all over again,
right in front of him. The place was different—and the names—but the situation was all too familiar.
Wolf rested his hands against the counter and bowed his head, feeling torn apart inside. Sarah, so small and spunky, had more backbone, more guts, than he did. She hadn't run. He had. A wrenching sigh tore from him. What was he going to do? Run again? Leave Sarah to fight her battle alone?
"Wolf? What's wrong?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing."
Sarah slowly got to her feet with the help of the crutches. She swung herself to the counter, a few feet from him. Although she could see only his harsh, unforgiving profile, the set of his mouth shouted of some inner pain he was carrying within him like a living thing. "Look, my troubles and problems are my own. You don't have to take them on—or even get involved. I really appreciate you giving me a place to heal for a week, but you don't owe me anything." With a little laugh, Sarah added, "I owe you, if the truth be known. You saved my life and gave me care when no one else would."
Something old and hurting snapped within Wolf. He turned to her, his breathing harsh. "This time," he gritted out, "I'm not running. Sorry, Sarah, but you're stuck with me. We're going to push
Summers
and Noonan until they get the message to leave you and your mine alone."
Sarah's lips parted beneath the vehemence in his voice, the agony and anger in his eyes. "
But.
. .why? I'm nothing to you."
"You don't understand. I don't expect you to. Once, a woman gave me a place to heal, and I paid her back by failing her." Sarah's eyes grew huge, and he held up his hand. "I don't want to talk about it, Sarah.
I
can't ever go back and change the past, but I can change the present for the future. I'm being given a second chance, and I'll be damned if I'm going to fail this time. No, you're stuck with me for the duration, whether you like me or not. We'll find out who did this to you, and we'll bring them to justice."
Sarah stared up at him. The vibrating emotion coming out of Wolf made her want to cry—not for herself, but for him. She was right: Something awful and terrifying had happened to him, to those he cared for. Swallowing, she gave a jerky nod of her head. "Okay, I can use the help. I can't pay you. . ."
Wolf managed a twisted smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Honey, you don't owe me a thing, and never will. By Cherokee tradition, this situation is seen as a test. I failed the first time. Now the Grandparents are giving me a second chance." Softly he added, "And I'm not going to blow it this time, not this time—"
Shaken by the intensity of their conversation, Sarah placed the crutches aside and awkwardly moved to the kitchen sink. She saw Wolf frown, his gray eyes turning molten with concern, and it unstrung her badly.
"What do you think you're going to do?" he demanded.
"Wash dishes before I soak my feet."
"No way.
You can't stay on your feet that long." Wolf grabbed her arm before he could think what he was doing. Sarah's skin felt firm and velvety beneath his grasp, and he froze.
With a gasp, Sarah stared up at him. His hand seemed to brand her where it touched her arm. Never had she been more vividly aware of herself as a woman. Her heart beating erratically, she felt the burning heat of his stormy gaze upon her. The longing she felt was so intense that it took her breath away, and she was drowning, mesmerized by the changing color of his eyes, with all her being, Sarah felt Wolf's need of her.
The discovery was molten. Unconsciously she swayed forward, and at the same moment, excruciating pain shot up both her legs. With a little cry, she tried to grab something, anything, to take the pressure off her injured feet and ankles. Instantly Wolf's arms went around her and she felt the shock of his strong, unyielding body meeting the softer curves of her own. Her eyes shuttered closed as the pain swept upward, making her lightheaded. Sarah allowed herself, for the first time in a long time, to lean against a man. Only Wolf wasn't just any man. She knew that as surely as she could feel her heart pounding in her breast.
Her cheek pressed against the fabric of his shirt, Sarah heard the
drumlike
beating of Wolf's heart. The smell of him, a man who worked in the fragrant pine forest she loved so much, was Sarah's undoing. Absorbing his male strength, the care of his arms as they swept around her, she surrendered to him in every way—if only for a brief moment. As he held her snugly against him, a small sigh escaped her lips. How long had she gone without any support? Just this once, her heart pleaded with her, let someone else help. Let someone else care.
Wolf released a groan as Sarah collapsed against him. Instantly he realized what had happened. His surprise at her surrender was followed by a massive desire to protect her that tunneled up through him as she sagged against him. She was so small—small and strong at the same time. He felt her capitulation to him, stunned by it, euphoric over it.
For just that moment spun out of time and reality, Wolf allowed Sarah to rest against him. Knowing her past, knowing how strong she'd had to be for so long, he
understood her need to lean on him. But it was more than that, as he savored her lithe form. He could feel the birdlike beating of her heart, wildly aware of her small breasts pressed to his chest, of her slender arms moving around his waist.
He inhaled her womanly scent, deeply, raggedly. The memory of a woman seared him, and, fighting himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to Sarah's sunlight- colored hair. The strands were thin and fine, like her. He could smell the fragrance of her shampoo, the fragrance of her as a woman, and it shattered his efforts to remain detached.
"
Sarah.
. . no. . ." he growled, and gripped her arms. Gently he pushed her away from him and reached for her crutches. It was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. He saw her head snap up, saw her pain-filled eyes widen with shock, then hurt. He knew she wouldn't understand why he was breaking their embrace.
"No. . ." he said, trying to soften the growl in his voice as he helped her place the crutches beneath her arms. Helplessly he watched as a flush stained Sarah's features. A huge part of him wanted to tell her the truth, the awful, sordid truth. But what would that do? Only make her see him as he saw himself. Bitterness coated his mouth, and he lifted his hands.
Humiliated, Sarah realized she should never have tried to walk without the aid of her crutches. Pain throbbed through her feet, and she felt stupid. "I'm sorry. . ."