Angel Creek by Linda Howard Page B

been hurt, she wouldn’t be standing naked under his hands now. She would be outside doing her chores, encased in clothing, her wild tumble of hair sternly twisted into a knot. But she
was
hurt, and he had to remember that.
    Her collarbones were straight, without any telltalelumps to signal breaks, and she didn’t flinch at his firm touch even though he carefully watched her face for any sign of pain. He felt her neck and told her to turn her head from side to side, which she did with some care but no great difficulty. Then he walked around behind her, gathered the great mass of hair which fell to her hips, and looped it over her shoulder.
    He swore softly between his teeth.
    â€œI figure I’m bruised,” Dee said, staring into the fire. “I landed on my back.”
    Her shoulders appeared to have taken the brunt of the fall, because a great black and purple welt stretched from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Her lower back was also bruised, the discoloration extending down to the twin dimples of her buttocks.
    Gently he checked her ribs and found them sore but not broken, as was the case with her arms. All things considered, she was lucky to have escaped with such minor injuries.
    He began thinking of all the things that needed to be done. “I’ll fix you some breakfast,” he said. “Do you want to go back to bed or sit here by the fire?”
    She turned her head and gave him a baleful look. “I can’t sit around like this.”
    â€œI don’t object. The scenery looks good from my view, except for the strange colors.” He lightly patted her bottom, taking care not to touch her bruises.
    She moved jerkily, painfully away from him, and he was briefly ashamed of himself for teasing her when she couldn’t fight back. He went into the bedroom and pulled a blanket off the bed—a double bed, he noted—then returned to her and folded it snugly around her. She hugged it to her with a look of intensegratefulness and relief, and he realized how difficult it had been for her to be unclothed in front of him. He wanted to kiss her and tell her that it would be all right, that soon she would be accustomed to him, but it was never good tactics to let your adversary know your plans in advance.
    He helped her to the big, well upholstered chair before the fire, but sitting down was something she had to do at her own rate. When at last she was as comfortable as she could get he turned his attention to the wood stove.
    Cooking was something he had learned by necessity, and he was competent with the basics. He put on a pot of coffee, deftly made a pan of biscuits, and sliced bacon to put on to fry. After satisfying himself that the stove wasn’t too hot, he went outside and gathered enough eggs for breakfast. He had eaten some biscuits and cold beef before riding over, but now his stomach was demanding more.
    When he returned to the house Dee was still in exactly the same position she’d been in before he’d gone outside. The blanket had slipped away from her bare feet. He went over and knelt down to cover them, wrapping them more securely in the folds.
    â€œThank you,” she said. Her frustration with herself was plain in her eyes.
    He patted her knee. He knew how being sick or hurt grated on the nerves. The few times in his life that he had been confined to bed, even as a child, he had raised such hell that everyone around him had breathed a sigh of relief when he began to mend.
    He finished breakfast, put everything on the table, and returned to her chair. “I’m going to pick you up,”he said. “I’ll put my arm around the middle of your back, where you aren’t so sore.”
    â€œI have to get dressed,” she said irritably. “I can’t eat with this blanket wrapped around me.”
    He slipped his arms around her, one across her back and the other under her thighs, and lifted her easily. His muscled back and arms barely