“Where are…where are you taking me?” She had to make an effort to form coherent sentences. But if she was in Isaac’s arms again, it was definitely time to speak up, to get away if she could.

“Hold still.”

Great. He was being his typical accommodating self. But when he stopped to adjust his grip on her, she knew he’d spoken curtly from necessity. What was wrong with him? He’d never had any trouble carrying her before. Since their sexual heyday he’d become even more muscular, which should be making this easier…?.

“Are you trying to…tell me you think I’ve gotten fat?”

“I’m trying to tell you that it hurts like hell every time you move.”

Suddenly she realized she might not have been the only one who’d had a run-in with her attacker. “The man who hit me…he didn’t…shoot you or…or anything, did he?”

Obviously intent on making progress, he didn’t respond.

“Hello?” she said.

“Just take it easy.” It came out as a command, which didn’t surprise her. He was always in charge.

On second thought, she had to admit there’d been plenty of give-and-take in the bedroom. But she couldn’t admire that without undermining her efforts to maintain some self-respect.

Fortunately—or unfortunately—there were plenty of other things to think about. Maybe he was struggling because the ground was so uneven. Or he’d been carrying her for too long.

Regardless, Claire knew she shouldn’t let herself rely on him. He was dangerous for her, probably even more dangerous now that she had such a vacuum in her life. She missed David, but David was gone and Isaac was very much alive—as alive and capable as he’d ever been. Far too many times in the past six months her thoughts had gravitated to him and how quickly he could put an end to her lonely nights. Maybe he was a cheap substitute for David, but there were times when that seemed better than nothing.

“Put me down,” she said.

He switched the flashlight to his other hand. “We’re almost…there.”

“I can walk.” She wasn’t really sure of that, but she pushed on his chest to convince him to let her go—and immediately regretted it. They both gasped as her hand touched a wet, sticky substance.

He was bleeding. She’d been right; he was hurt.

With a curse, he tightened his hold but didn’t seem to be getting over what she’d done as quickly as she would’ve liked. “Shit, Claire, will you hold still?”

“Claire?” she echoed.

“Isn’t that your name?”

It just sounded funny, coming from his lips after so long. Except for a few incidents when she’d found him staring at her at the tavern, or she’d glanced up while she was getting gas at the Fill ’n’ Go to realize he was there, too, he’d made it look darn easy to forget her.

“Considering all the women you’ve been with, I figured you’d have a harder time keeping us straight, that’s all.” She was trying to hide how shaken she was to have his blood on her hand, not knowing how serious his wound was. He was always getting hurt; he’d often said he had nine lives. But she suspected he’d already used up that many.

Because of the pain in her head and her distress, she had to relax against his shoulder or risk throwing up. Closing her eyes, she shut out the shifting light, which only made her dizzier.

“How bad is it?” she mumbled when her concern for his well-being overcame her resistance to letting him know she cared.

“You’re going to be fine.”

“I was talking about you.”

“We’ll see.”

Then the most terrible thing in the world happened—tears filled her eyes. She wasn’t even sure why, except that she felt so helpless in the face of everything that had gone wrong. When would it end? First her mother’s disappearance, then her sister’s accident, then David’s death, and now she’d been attacked. To top it all, she was being carried through the woods by the one person she’d do anything to hide her pain from—and couldn’t because he was right there to witness it.

Damn it, she didn’t want to be this transparent, didn’t want Isaac to see her so near the breaking point.

Clenching her jaw, she blinked fast, but the tears came, anyway. So she began to pray he wouldn’t notice—and knew that prayer hadn’t been answered when he spoke to her in the same gentle tone she’d once heard him use with a lame horse.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t cry.”

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4

Leanne wasn’t happy but that didn’t come as a surprise. To Claire’s dismay, her sister never seemed happy.

She watched Leanne maneuver her wheelchair to reach the nightstand, where she set the glass of water and the pain pills she’d brought in case Claire needed them later. The disgruntled frown that tugged at her lips bothered Claire, but not as much as the low-cut pink nightgown her sister was wearing. Held up by two black ribbons tied in bows, one over each shoulder, it went to her ankles—but it was too low-cut to be worn in front of a man other than an intimate boyfriend or husband.

And this was how she’d answered the door when Myles brought Claire home.

Unable to bite her tongue any longer, Claire broke the tense silence that’d fallen between them as soon as the sheriff left. She knew Leanne had plenty to say about what’d happened at the studio tonight—plenty about how she shouldn’t have been there in the first place—and thought she might as well air her own grievances before Leanne could get started. “You didn’t mind letting Myles see you like that?”

Her sister’s chin jutted out. “Like what?”

“Wearing sexy lingerie?” With no effort at all, Claire could make out the tattoo of a mermaid on her sister’s right breast. When Leanne bent forward, she could see clear to her navel—but glanced away. Leanne’s lack of modesty embarrassed her now as much as it had a few minutes earlier. What had gotten into her lately? Why was she acting like this?

Claire knew she struggled to feel attractive despite her handicap. It was heartbreaking to watch and the primary reason Claire had agreed with Leanne’s decision to get breast implants. She’d even helped pay for the operation. But Leanne had changed so drastically since the surgery, had become so blatantly sexual. Was she trying to prove that she was just as attractive and capable of pleasing a man as anyone who could walk?

It felt that way. But passing herself around to every guy who showed interest wouldn’t solve her self-esteem problem. And it wouldn’t do her reputation any favors, either, especially in such a small community.

“What are you talking about?” Leanne asked. “It’s not like this is transparent or anything.”

It didn’t need to be transparent to be inappropriate. Claire made an effort to hold on to her temper. She knew how easily this could blow up into a major argument and didn’t relish the idea of any more trouble with her sister. They always seemed to be at each other’s throats these days. “But you hate gossip. Why make yourself the focus of it?”

Leanne shrugged. “Folks around here are going to stare and talk no matter what. I have this wheelchair to thank for that. And Mom didn’t do us any favors when she ran off.”

Claire couldn’t stop herself from bristling. Leanne had just thrown her first jab, no doubt one of many. “You don’t know she ran off, Lee.”

“I know that’s the most likely answer—and I’m tough enough to accept it.”

Unlike her. The implication was too obvious to ignore. “Don’t start.”