“You don’t know a way out, do you?”she asked, as the mouse continued to regard her curiously.“Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be here, but I suspect it would be much too small for me.”
The mouse came a few inches closer, and Shea reached out her hand to the creature, surprised when it crept forward and then investigated her fingers with its tiny mouth.It flicked its tail and sat back on his haunches again with what Shea thought was disappointment.Fascinated, she wondered if she should fetch a cracker.What if it disappeared while she was getting the tin?That thought was excruciating.
She heard a noise at the door, and she tensed.The mouse didn’t move, and she knew she had to protect it.She reached to pick it up, surprised when it didn’t flee from her.She thrust it underneath the cot, hoping that it would stay in the shadows.
The door opened, and the bright light of the late-afternoon sun almost blinded her.Her eyes were drawn to the large figure in the doorway.Silhouetted by the sun behind him, Tyler seemed even bigger, stronger, more menacing.She had to force herself to keep from moving back away from him.
He hesitated, his gaze raking over the cabin, raking over her.He frowned at the candle.
She stood.It took all her bravery, but she stood, forcing her eyes to meet his, looking for a crumb of remorse or regret or reprieve.All she saw was a certain coolness.
“I’m thirsty.”It came out as more of a challenge than a request, and she caught a flicker of something in his eyes.She was hoping it was conscience, but that hope was quickly extinguished by his response.
“Used to better places?”It was a sneer, plain and simple, and Shea felt anger stirring again.
“I’m used to gentlemen and simple … humanity.”
“That’s strange, considering your claim that you’re Randall’s daughter.”
“I haven’t claimed anything to you.”
“That’s right, you haven’t,” he agreed in a disagreeable tone.“You haven’t said much at all.”
“And I don’t intend to.Not to a thief and a traitor.”
“Be careful, Miss Randall.Your continued good health depends on that thief and traitor.”
“That’s supposed to comfort me?”Her tone was pure acid.
His gaze stabbed her.“You’ll have to forgive me.I’m out of practice in trying to comfort anyone.Ten years out of practice.”She heard no apology in his voice, only bitterness.
“So you’re going to starve me?”
“No,” he said slowly.“I’m not going to dothat.”
The statement was ominous to Shea.“What are you going to do?”
“Follow my rules, and I won’t do anything.”
“You already are.You’re keeping me here against my will.”
He was silent for a moment, and a muscle moved in his neck, as if he were just barely restraining himself.“Lady, because of your … father, I was held against my will for ten years.”
She wanted to slap him for his mockery.She wanted to kick him where it would hurt the most.But now was not the time.
“Is that it?You’re taking your … grudge out on me?”
The muscle in his cheek moved again.“No, Miss Randall, it’s not that.You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.I don’t have any more choices than you do.”He didn’t know why in the hell he was explaining, except that her last charge galled him.
“You do,” she insisted.
He turned away from her.“Believe what you want,” he said, his voice indifferent.“Blow out that candle and come with me if you want some water.”
She didn’t want to go with him, but she was desperate to slake her thirst and to take care of a personal need.She blew out the candle, hoping that once outside he wouldn’t see dried streaks of tears on her face.
Shea didn’t have to worry.He paid no attention to her.She knew she was plain, especially so in the loose-fitting britches and shirt she wore and with her hair in a braid.She should be grateful he was indifferent to her, but a part of her wanted to goad him, confuse him … attract him.
Shea felt color flood her face.To stop her train of thought, she concentrated on her surroundings.
