Immediately he let her go.
“Your throat hurts.” It was a statement, not a question. He was frowning heavily as he looked down at her.
“Yes.” Her answer was faintly defiant.
“They really did play a little rougher than you had bargained on, didn’t they?”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Lisa muttered angrily, closing her eyes and then opening them again to glare at him. To her surprise, he smiled at her. She was transfixed by what that slow smile did for his face.
“All right,” he said, his tone placating. “I believe you about what happened down by the creek. I had a little—uh—talk with Lutz and Brady—the men who grabbed you—and they finally came clean.”
“Did you send them away?” Lisa asked eagerly. It was good to know that Sam believed her, and it would be even better to know that the men who attacked her had left the camp.
Sam looked surprised. “I need them,” he said, as if this explained everything.
“You mean that you’re going to let them stay here, in this camp, after . . . after. . .” Her voice failed her.
“I told you, I need them.” He sounded mildly impatient.
“But what if they . . . they . . .?” Her voice faltered, and she chewed anxiously on her lower lip without being aware that she was doing so.
“Try it again?” Sam finished for her. “Don’t worry, they won’t. I spent this morning putting the fear of God into them.”
Lisa had to smile at that. “The fear of you, you mean.”
Sam grinned. “You could put it that way.”
“But I really would feel better if they weren’t around. Can’t you fire them, or whatever it is you do?” Her eyes, as she raised them to Sam’s, were shadowed with remembered fear. He looked at her, his eyes running almost unwillingly over the tousled mass of ash-blond hair, the creamy skin of her face, which had been kissed to gold by the sun, the wide green eyes, and the soft, tremulous mouth. She looked femininely defenseless—which was a joke. She was about as helpless as a she-cat. Then Sam’s gaze moved down to the livid black-and-yellow bruises that marred the long column of her throat, and he mentally corrected himself. She was out of her element in this man’s world of war; for the moment, she needed his protection. But he was willing to bet a considerable sum that, on her own ground with her own female weapons, she was as devastating as a bazooka at twenty feet.
“I can’t ‘fire’ them,” he explained with more patience than he had shown previously. “We’re here to do a job, and Lutz and Brady—however offensive they may have made themselves to you—are a vital part of this team. They are not expendable. None of my men are. I don’t think you realize what a sacrifice it is for me to leave Riley hanging around the camp all day. I can’t spare anyone else on your account.”
Lisa was taken aback by this forthright speech. She had been so sure, now that he knew for certain that those animals had tried to rape her, that he would get rid of them. Apparently his “need” was more important than her safety. A measure of hostility showed in her eyes as she looked at him.
“I see,” she said coolly.
“Good.” The single word was brisk. “Now, if you’ll stay put, I have some ointment that will make those bruises feel better. Hang on.”
With that he turned and left the tent. Lisa stared after him, a mixture of anger and chagrin on her face. She was largely silent when he returned with the ointment, smoothed it impersonally into her throat, and went on about his business. It was only after he had left her again that Lisa realized she was suffering from a strong sense of injustice. He had admitted that she had been telling the truth all along. She had been right, he had been wrong. At the very least, she thought resentfully, he owed her an apology!
Lisa saw very little of Sam over the next three days. She shared his tent, and that was about all. He was gone from dawn to long after night had fallen.
“Your throat hurts.” It was a statement, not a question. He was frowning heavily as he looked down at her.
“Yes.” Her answer was faintly defiant.
“They really did play a little rougher than you had bargained on, didn’t they?”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Lisa muttered angrily, closing her eyes and then opening them again to glare at him. To her surprise, he smiled at her. She was transfixed by what that slow smile did for his face.
“All right,” he said, his tone placating. “I believe you about what happened down by the creek. I had a little—uh—talk with Lutz and Brady—the men who grabbed you—and they finally came clean.”
“Did you send them away?” Lisa asked eagerly. It was good to know that Sam believed her, and it would be even better to know that the men who attacked her had left the camp.
Sam looked surprised. “I need them,” he said, as if this explained everything.
“You mean that you’re going to let them stay here, in this camp, after . . . after. . .” Her voice failed her.
“I told you, I need them.” He sounded mildly impatient.
“But what if they . . . they . . .?” Her voice faltered, and she chewed anxiously on her lower lip without being aware that she was doing so.
“Try it again?” Sam finished for her. “Don’t worry, they won’t. I spent this morning putting the fear of God into them.”
Lisa had to smile at that. “The fear of you, you mean.”
Sam grinned. “You could put it that way.”
“But I really would feel better if they weren’t around. Can’t you fire them, or whatever it is you do?” Her eyes, as she raised them to Sam’s, were shadowed with remembered fear. He looked at her, his eyes running almost unwillingly over the tousled mass of ash-blond hair, the creamy skin of her face, which had been kissed to gold by the sun, the wide green eyes, and the soft, tremulous mouth. She looked femininely defenseless—which was a joke. She was about as helpless as a she-cat. Then Sam’s gaze moved down to the livid black-and-yellow bruises that marred the long column of her throat, and he mentally corrected himself. She was out of her element in this man’s world of war; for the moment, she needed his protection. But he was willing to bet a considerable sum that, on her own ground with her own female weapons, she was as devastating as a bazooka at twenty feet.
“I can’t ‘fire’ them,” he explained with more patience than he had shown previously. “We’re here to do a job, and Lutz and Brady—however offensive they may have made themselves to you—are a vital part of this team. They are not expendable. None of my men are. I don’t think you realize what a sacrifice it is for me to leave Riley hanging around the camp all day. I can’t spare anyone else on your account.”
Lisa was taken aback by this forthright speech. She had been so sure, now that he knew for certain that those animals had tried to rape her, that he would get rid of them. Apparently his “need” was more important than her safety. A measure of hostility showed in her eyes as she looked at him.
“I see,” she said coolly.
“Good.” The single word was brisk. “Now, if you’ll stay put, I have some ointment that will make those bruises feel better. Hang on.”
With that he turned and left the tent. Lisa stared after him, a mixture of anger and chagrin on her face. She was largely silent when he returned with the ointment, smoothed it impersonally into her throat, and went on about his business. It was only after he had left her again that Lisa realized she was suffering from a strong sense of injustice. He had admitted that she had been telling the truth all along. She had been right, he had been wrong. At the very least, she thought resentfully, he owed her an apology!
Lisa saw very little of Sam over the next three days. She shared his tent, and that was about all. He was gone from dawn to long after night had fallen.
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