your house.'
' No! ' she burst out, clutching his arms before he withdrew. 'You can't!
What if—what if he's still there?'
His dark eyes mocked her gently. He seemed almost calm. That was
why his words were so shocking to her. 'Then I think I might kill
him.'
The shock stayed with her until he had sat down on the edge of the
bed to pull on socks and shoes, and then she erupted in a wild babble
of incoherency. 'Greg, it's insane, you can't . . . you could get hurt,
killed—oh, please, promise me you won't go until tomorrow, no, you
mustn't leave me .. .' Then, as he bent to pick up his jacket, she cried
out, 'Greg, don't leave me here alone!'
That sank in. His head jerked and he stared at her with his eyes
widened, taking in her tangible fear, the shadows behind her, the
quiet house. He hesitated, then came over to her. 'You'd be all right
here with Beowulf. Nothing could happen to you.'
'What about you?' Her eyes searched his face. 'Please, if you go, then
I want to go, too. I—Greg, I can't stay here alone!'
'I know,' he soothed, then hesitated. 'I know. Come on, let's go get
your dressing gown and shoes. You're not going back barefoot.'
Sara didn't know whether to feel weak from relief that she wasn't
staying in a strange house alone or whether to feel sick from the fear
of going out into that dark night again. After she had slipped on her
shoes and dressing gown, he turned off the lights and put an arm
around her shoulders as he opened the door for them to go out on to
the porch. Beowulf slipped out of the door and then Greg was
locking it. All too soon they were back on the path that would take
them to Sara's house and, as if he knew just what she was feeling,
Greg put his arm around her, holding her firmly to his side. He didn't
let her go until they reached the end of the path, then he whispered in
her ear, 'Stay here a minute.' She barely had time for a nod before he
was slipping away, melting into the night like a shadow.
What would he find? What if he was attacked? She knelt and found a
thick stick by the path and was after him before she let her fear
conquer her. She came up behind him just as he reached the porch
and gently touched his arm. He whirled, incredibly fast, with arm up
and fist clenched, checking only when he saw it was her. He took in
her wary stance, and the stick in her hand before she felt a hand
plucking it wryly away. The moonlight was shining enough for her to
see his dark shape, bulky, strong, reassuring, in front of her. He was
hefting the stick thoughtfully. He kept it in one hand and held her
behind him with the other. In this way they crept to the dark rectangle
that was her front door. It looked so alien in the dark. She couldn't
have recognised it if she had been on her own.
A silent push of the foot had the door swinging gently open. She put
a hand over her mouth to stifle any noise she might make. Greg
pushed her against the outside wall and warned her with the hard
pressure of his hand to stay there. Then he crashed inside, flipping
the light switch by the side of the door and moving swiftly. There
was silence, and she couldn't stand it, so she came in too, her eyes
darting around the empty room.
Greg had disappeared and she followed him quickly down the hall to
the light shining from her bedroom. He was standing in the middle of
the floor, swinging the stick thoughtfully against his thigh as he
looked around at the wreckage of the room. He turned at the sound of
her footsteps. 'The light was left on, Sara, I'm sorry about the -'
Whatever else he said rushed away in the roaring that filled her ears
as she took in the ruined furniture, the clothes strewn about. A
reeking odour told her that her favourite bottle of perfume had been
smashed, and the sense of violation at this invasion of her privacy
was so intense that she swayed dizzily against the doorpost.
Greg was very quick. He was at her side in a split second, putting
' No! ' she burst out, clutching his arms before he withdrew. 'You can't!
What if—what if he's still there?'
His dark eyes mocked her gently. He seemed almost calm. That was
why his words were so shocking to her. 'Then I think I might kill
him.'
The shock stayed with her until he had sat down on the edge of the
bed to pull on socks and shoes, and then she erupted in a wild babble
of incoherency. 'Greg, it's insane, you can't . . . you could get hurt,
killed—oh, please, promise me you won't go until tomorrow, no, you
mustn't leave me .. .' Then, as he bent to pick up his jacket, she cried
out, 'Greg, don't leave me here alone!'
That sank in. His head jerked and he stared at her with his eyes
widened, taking in her tangible fear, the shadows behind her, the
quiet house. He hesitated, then came over to her. 'You'd be all right
here with Beowulf. Nothing could happen to you.'
'What about you?' Her eyes searched his face. 'Please, if you go, then
I want to go, too. I—Greg, I can't stay here alone!'
'I know,' he soothed, then hesitated. 'I know. Come on, let's go get
your dressing gown and shoes. You're not going back barefoot.'
Sara didn't know whether to feel weak from relief that she wasn't
staying in a strange house alone or whether to feel sick from the fear
of going out into that dark night again. After she had slipped on her
shoes and dressing gown, he turned off the lights and put an arm
around her shoulders as he opened the door for them to go out on to
the porch. Beowulf slipped out of the door and then Greg was
locking it. All too soon they were back on the path that would take
them to Sara's house and, as if he knew just what she was feeling,
Greg put his arm around her, holding her firmly to his side. He didn't
let her go until they reached the end of the path, then he whispered in
her ear, 'Stay here a minute.' She barely had time for a nod before he
was slipping away, melting into the night like a shadow.
What would he find? What if he was attacked? She knelt and found a
thick stick by the path and was after him before she let her fear
conquer her. She came up behind him just as he reached the porch
and gently touched his arm. He whirled, incredibly fast, with arm up
and fist clenched, checking only when he saw it was her. He took in
her wary stance, and the stick in her hand before she felt a hand
plucking it wryly away. The moonlight was shining enough for her to
see his dark shape, bulky, strong, reassuring, in front of her. He was
hefting the stick thoughtfully. He kept it in one hand and held her
behind him with the other. In this way they crept to the dark rectangle
that was her front door. It looked so alien in the dark. She couldn't
have recognised it if she had been on her own.
A silent push of the foot had the door swinging gently open. She put
a hand over her mouth to stifle any noise she might make. Greg
pushed her against the outside wall and warned her with the hard
pressure of his hand to stay there. Then he crashed inside, flipping
the light switch by the side of the door and moving swiftly. There
was silence, and she couldn't stand it, so she came in too, her eyes
darting around the empty room.
Greg had disappeared and she followed him quickly down the hall to
the light shining from her bedroom. He was standing in the middle of
the floor, swinging the stick thoughtfully against his thigh as he
looked around at the wreckage of the room. He turned at the sound of
her footsteps. 'The light was left on, Sara, I'm sorry about the -'
Whatever else he said rushed away in the roaring that filled her ears
as she took in the ruined furniture, the clothes strewn about. A
reeking odour told her that her favourite bottle of perfume had been
smashed, and the sense of violation at this invasion of her privacy
was so intense that she swayed dizzily against the doorpost.
Greg was very quick. He was at her side in a split second, putting
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