Talons of the Falcon by REBECCA YORK Page B

done her best to soothe his disappointment, relations between them had been strained ever since. And her mother had felt compelled to support her husband’s stand, even though she’d had misgivings. Now, maybe because Eden was getting nowhere with Mark, she longed to reach out and restore those older relationships. But that was impossible for the time being. Security on Pine Island precluded unofficial calls or letters to the outside world.
    She was daydreaming about the weekend her whole family had come up to Cornell when she’d been awarded her Ph.D. Her younger brother, Billy, had been an undergraduate at Michigan State. He’d tried not to act overawed. But when she’d come down the aisle in that black gown with the special hood and the crimson stripes on the sleeve, she knew he’d been impressed. They’d all been in such good spirits. And it was typical of the many memorable times they’d spent together. That special family feeling she’d had before the rift had enabled her to know what she was looking for in a life partner.
    Five years ago she’d thought she’d found it with Mark Bradley. But she’d been wrong. Now she couldn’t help wondering if she’d been wrong about a lot of things.
    Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the door of Mark’s room open. Marshall was getting his patient ready for bed. She supposed she ought to be grateful for small favors; at least the male nurse had curtailed his sarcastic remarks. Apparently, as soon as he’d realized she had been officially installed, he’d become more circumspect.
    After the attendant left, Eden made her own bedtime preparations. The confrontation with Downing and his staff had been exhausting. And she had a busy day ahead, too. Once the lights were out, she heard Mark get out of bed and begin moving around. He did that most evenings. From the muffled grunts and labored breathing she heard, she had to assume that he had started a supplementary exercise program of his own. The knowledge gave her a measure of hope. Even if he was maintaining his unresponsive demeanor with her, he apparently did have some private goal in mind.
    Eden had been asleep for several hours when she was startled into instant alertness by a different sound. Glancing at the clock, she saw that it was close to three a.m. What had wakened her? Her heart began to pound. But in the next moment a groan drew her attention toward Mark’s room. She hesitated, listening intently. The groan was followed by another—and then a strangled exclamation. Had Downing broken his word and sent for Mark in the middle of the night?
    Throwing a light robe over her satin gown, Eden hurried through the connecting bathroom and quickly pushed open Mark’s door. After her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, her gaze searched the room for intruders. There were none. But a muttered curse drew her attention to the far wall. There, shafts of moonlight coming in through the barred window cast the bed in stripes of pale light and shadow, and she could make out Mark’s restless form. The tangled covers had slipped to one side, and she could see that his body was naked from the waist up. Eden quickly crossed the room, drawn by moans interspersed with words that made no sense.
    She watched Mark struggle against the twisted sheet that held him prisoner. There was a sheen of perspiration on his bare torso. Evidently he was in the throes of one of the nightmares Downing had mentioned.
    Her heart seemed to turn over in her chest. What torture was he remembering?
    “Mark, Mark, you’re safe. You’re only dreaming,” she murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed and grasping his shoulders to quiet him. The gesture didn’t have the calming effect she had hoped for. He was still caught in the grip of the frightening dream. Now that she was closer she could see his features. His teeth were clenched and his eyes tightly shut. The pain written on his scarred countenance was almost too much to