In The Arms of a Stranger by Kristen Robinette

sofa as though he knew his master was being taken care of. Luke, however, appeared to have a new mission and followed the baby’s cries at a staggering speed.
    Staggering being the operative word.
    To both their credit, they made it to the bedroom in a flash. Before she knew what was happening, Luke knelt down and lifted the baby from the makeshift crib. Dana’s breath caught in her throat, but he seemed suddenly lucid as he walked the few feet back to the bed and lowered himself against the mattress. To her relief, he held the infant with steady hands and placed him against his bare chest. She watched in fascination as the baby snuggled against Luke’s warm skin, curious fingers tangling in the curls of chest hair.
    â€œThere you go, little man,” he whispered so softly that she wondered if she’d heard the soothing words correctly. Luke scooted gently against the mattress until his back rested firmly against the headboard.
    Dana openly stared at the scene before her. The stoic veil she’d wrapped around herself during the past year and a half slipped, and raw emotion hit her like a fist. How many times had she imagined just such a scene? A father comforting a child while she, the mother, looked on… Only she wasn’t a mother. And the pastoral scene before her simply wasn’t.
    â€œI—I’ll be right back.”
    She shook off the onslaught of emotions and bolted from the bedroom in search of something to tend the wound. Her feet flew across the cabin floor as she made her way to the kitchen. Luke seemed steady enough holding the baby, butshe couldn’t take anything for granted. She’d seen him slip in and out of conscious awareness several times already.
    Dana found a clean dishcloth in a kitchen drawer and rummaged through the cabinets until she located an old porcelain bowl. She tossed the dishcloth inside the bowl and filled it with cold water from the tap.
    After making her way back to the bedroom, she found that Luke had leaned his cheek against the headboard of the bed and closed his eyes. Luckily his grip on the baby had remained strong. She eased the now-sleeping infant from his arms and gently laid him back in the makeshift bassinet with a whispered promise to return soon. By her calculations, it was past time for the baby to have another bottle. The reprieve couldn’t last much longer. She only hoped that the hunger pangs wouldn’t wake him before she’d tended to Luke.
    Returning her attention to Luke, she gently touched his shoulder. “I need to check the wound on your head,” she said in her most commanding voice. “Are you awake?”
    â€œUnfortunately,” he mumbled.
    Dana switched on the bedside lamp and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Hesitantly she lifted his hair, gently moving the dark strands aside in search of the wound. She didn’t have to search long. An angry gash at the base of his skull was crusted with dried blood, impossibly matting Luke’s hair around it.
    â€œI’m afraid this might hurt a bit,” she apologized in advance.
    â€œAnd I was afraid you were going to say that,” he replied, his voice laced with sleepiness.
    The dried blood loosened little by little as she dabbed the damp cloth over the wound. Dana rinsed the cloth in the bowl and watched with horror as the water began to turn a murky blood red. How long had he staggered in the coldand how had he managed to find his way back to her and the baby? When Luke didn’t stir, let alone flinch, a tremor of fear trailed up her spine.
    â€œLuke?” she whispered. He didn’t answer. She sat the bowl on the bed stand. “Are you okay?”
    Luke shifted positions, sitting upright and turning his head so that Dana could have better access to the wound. He rested his hand absently against her thigh. “I’m okay,” he finally whispered.
    Dana shivered. The man had a voice like dark silk, even when it was