“None,” he agreed pleasantly. “Even if I wished to, it’s not something I’d do in this weather.”
Clara, her excitement dwindling, now began to focus on the conversation going on around her. “But I want to go home!”
Shannon glared at Parker, the pain in her ankle all but forgotten as she tried to soothe Clara. “You heard your uncle. We can’t travel in the storm.” She could not promise they would travel later that day or even on the morrow. It appeared that Parker Grant was quite content with the situation the way it was.
Parker nodded. “You should be happy I stumbled upon you. I have some supplies with me, and I can do something about that poor fire.”
Shannon would have liked to say that neither she nor Clara required anything of Parker Grant, but common sense demanded otherwise. The accusations she wanted to level at his head had to be restrained for Clara’s sake. He spoke of plans that were unnecessary now and of having to act quickly. It was not the cold that caused her to shiver.
“You’re remarkably like her, you know,” he said, raising his eyes from Clara to Shannon. “Rory, I mean.” When Shannon made no reply, but continued to stare at him, her mouth set mutinously, Parker shrugged. “I’ll get the supplies.” He glanced at Shannon’s elevated foot. “I doubt you can go anywhere,” he said softly, and then he was gone.
“Shall we stay here all day?” asked Clara.
“I think so; perhaps the night. Will you mind?”
Clara thought about that for a moment. “No. I like Parker.”
Even though that had been obvious since Parker entered the cabin, Shannon was still surprised. Apparently Clara made no connection between her mother’s initial absence from the folly and her uncle. Shannon couldn’t remember either Cody or Brandon discussing Parker in front of Clara. Their bitterness never reached the child. “That’s fine,” Shannon said for lack of any better comment.
Parker’s bare head was covered with snow when he returned a few minutes later. He brushed it off after he dropped an armload of firewood in front of the hearth.
“First things first,” he said. It wasn’t long before he had a respectable blaze in the fireplace. “Come over here, Clara, and warm your hands. No, leave that blanket behind. I don’t want it catching a spark.”
How could he be so thoughtful? Shannon wondered. Was he trying to lull her into feeling some semblance of security? She could have told him his efforts were wasted on her, but again, for Clara’s peace of mind, she remained silent on the matter. Shannon lay helplessly on the narrow bed while Clara warmed herself and Parker made several more trips outside to get what he needed. On his final trip he carried in nothing but a bucket of snow.
“Take off your boot,” he said, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. When Shannon hesitated too long for his satisfaction, he added, “I’ll take it off myself, and I doubt if I’ll be gentle.”
Shannon struggled to more of a sitting position and tried to work off her boot. “I can’t. My foot is too swollen.”
Parker dropped the bucket and took out the hunting knife strapped to his thigh. “I’m going to cut it off. The boot, not your foot,” he explained when Shannon flinched away, “Frightened, are you? Good.” His knife quickly tore through the leather. “Think how easily this would go through your skin. It may have to, you know, if Bran doesn’t cooperate. It may have to anyway.”
“Stop it!” she hissed. “Clara may hear you.”
“So protective,” he mocked, removing her boot. He placed her foot on the blankets again and deftly examined her injury. “That will serve Clara in good stead.” He released her foot but saw her stiffen at his quiet threat against his niece. “Nothing’s broken.”
Shannon thought she would come out of her skin when he began packing her ankle in snow. None of the tenderness he used with Clara was evident when he dealt with her.
“Why are you dressed like that?” he asked.
“For warmth and comfort,” she said tersely.
His eyes dropped to the fur hat resting on the floor by the bed. “I see you decided against the plumed riding hat.”
“You should know why.”
Parker’s brows rose and his voice dropped. “You seem armed with an inordinate amount of suspicions regarding me. Why is that?”
Shannon glanced at Clara and saw she was occupied stacking the firewood. “You murdered my sister.”
“Completely incorrect. Aurora offered herself as a target.” He watched Shannon’s mouth part slightly in surprise. “Ah, you expected me to deny it. Why should I? I knew Brandon thought I was involved, else why send Sir James to visit me at Belletraine?”
“You spoke of plans. What is it you want?”
Parker ran his palm along the length of Shannon’s leg. “Later. We’ll speak of my plans when Clara is sleeping.”
Brandon cursed the snow.The weather had severely hampered his search for Shannon and Clara. Every man at the folly who could ride was given a mount and an area to cover. Now the advent of night posed another threat to the search.
Brandon had not thought anything could take his mind from the things he had learned from Annie. Though he still lacked hard evidence linking Parker to Aurora’s murder, the mere fact that Parker had spent time at Redheart’s while Aurora had been at the folly, as well as his interest in everything that happened at the folly, satisfied Brandon that Parker was involved. It was not enough for Sir James, however, and Brandon’s meeting with the man was disappointingly brief. “Something more substantial is required,” Sir James had said, rubbing his forehead thoughtfully. “Until then, well, I’m sorry.” Brandon was sorry also but not completely discouraged. If it meant going to Belletraine and threatening Parker’s slaves until he had the truth from them, he would do it.
