Trilby by Diana Palmer Page B

the table beside a weary Thorn and slowly began to clean his cuts. She didn’t look into his eyes. In fact, he didn’t lift them; he acted oddly subdued. Perhaps, she thought bitterly, he was in pain. She had to fight the urge to leave the room and let him stay that way, but her soft heart outweighed her outrage for the moment.
    “I don’t understand why you wanted the Mexican turned loose,” Jack said irritably.
    “Keeping him would cause his men to come after him,” Thorn explained, wincing when Trilby wiped his cut cheek. “Some Mexicans are like Apaches when they want revenge.”
    Jack was beginning to get the picture. “I see.”
    “I doubt it, but you’ll just have to take my word for it. They make a habit of raiding north of the border for cattle and selling them to a big landowner in the southern province of Sonora. I told them if I caught them on this side of the border again, I’d have a little talk with their benefactor. I don’t think we’ll see them again anytime soon. But there are other raiders. This isn’t the end of it.”
    “I was afraid you’d say that.” He grimaced as he saw Thorn’s face. The man had helped him, despite the damage he’d done. “You look terrible.”
    “Fighting isn’t pretty. Is it, Trilby?” he asked her,with a glint in his dark eyes as he suddenly looked up, full at her.
    She averted her eyes. “No.” She had to choke the word out. “What did he say that made you attack him?”
    “I’ll never tell you that,” he said solemnly. “He did it to provoke me, hoping he could catch me off-guard and put that knife into my belly.”
    “Your Indian friend,” Jack said uneasily. “He’s not what I expected.”
    “He’s not what anyone expects,” Thorn replied. “Thank God for his skill with a knife. I’d have been gutted but for him.”
    “How fortunate for you that you weren’t,” Trilby said. Her eyes looked into his. “Am I to understand that you were actually defending me?” she asked, with quiet hauteur.
    He caught his temper as it started to flare. When he spoke, his deep voice was soft. “Yes. No murderous bandit should be allowed to talk that way about a decent woman,” he said shortly.
    She dipped the bloodstained cloth back in the water, noticing how pinkish the once clear water had become. She lifted it back to Thorn’s face. “But then, I’m not a decent woman, according to you,” she replied bitterly.
    He caught her wrist tightly. His eyes were frankly apologetic. “Curt told me the truth. I’m sorry. More sorry than you realize.”
    “Don’t ruin your image, Mr. Vance,” she said as she tugged her hand out of his grasp and continued her ministrations. “I hardly think apologies are part of your repertoire.”
    Her father was hovering nearby. Thorn wished him in Montezuma. He needed to see Trilby alone, to see ifhe could mend the distance he’d put between them. She acted as if she despised him and he’d given her good reason. Even a blind man should have realized that her innocence was no pretense.
    “Your man, the Apache,” Jack persisted. “He speaks English.”
    “Does he, really?” Thorn asked, managing to look surprised.
    Jack cleared his throat and walked out.
    His absence gave Thorn the opportunity he’d wanted to patch things up with Trilby, if he could.
    “Look at me,” Thorn said quietly. “Trilby…look at me.”
    She forced her eyes down to his.
    “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Did I frighten you that day?”
    She flushed and turned away.
    He got up, standing behind her. His lean hands caught her shoulders gently. “You’re upset. You’d never even been kissed, had you?” he said regretfully.
    “No,” she said through her teeth. “And what you did…”
    He let out a heavy breath. “Yes. What I did is something that belongs in a relationship between married people. You learned things about me that you’d never have known in the normal course of things.”
    She flushed and was glad that he