Furious at the ebbing of his strength, he had fought the black wave threatening to wash over him and forced his trembling muscles to offer their last ounce of power. And then he had felt himself falling, and he thought he had wrenched the knife aside at the last moment, but he wasn’t sure because everything was so utterly dark and silent.
He was very tired, and not much interested in doing anything about the darkness. He would have let it carry him peacefully away, except that something tugged at him, resisting. And, gradually, he felt a surge of impatience at the darkness. It hid things from him, and he didn’t like things hidden.
He felt the tug again, and obeyed it this time, ignoring the seductive darkness as he began fighting his way toward the light. He was aware of movement first, and the sensation of coldness, and he heard an annoying roar that was too loud because someone was saying something to him and he couldn’t hear it.
But he was warmer now, and the darkness was less intense, and whatever had pulled him this far was holding on tight. There was something familiar about that, and he considered the matter idly. It was…a connection…to someone. A link. That was it. But it wasn’t the link he remembered, it was a new connection, a different and stronger one, and he thought he wasn’t accustomed to it yet. It was disturbing, but he had the notion that it was something he had wanted terribly.
He didn’t feel alone anymore.
He was aware of a deep surge of satisfaction. He’d gotten it, finally. He wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, except it made him happier than he could ever remember being. There was someone he was connected to, someone who couldn’t hide from him anymore.
Chapter 8
Skye was lucky, but he was also human. He had been injured before in the line of duty. Given his recklessness, if he had escaped injury in ten years it wouldn’t have been remarkable, it would have been a miracle. But Dane hadn’t been wrong in saying his brother believed he was made of iron. It wasn’t a conscious thing, but like all men gifted with extraordinary luck, Skye was always surprised when it deserted him. And he was shocked, on some deep level of himself, to find himself vulnerable.
So when he fought his way to consciousness with only a vague memory of what had happened, his first and strongest emotion was sheer annoyance. “Damn,” he muttered hoarsely, forcing his eyes to open. Matching eyes were looking down at him, and an almost-matching face wearing a mustache looked grimly amused by the curse.
“Don’t try to move,” Dane warned, then sighed as Skye of course did and bit back a groan. “In case you’ve forgotten, Adrian stuck a knife into you. You lost a hell of a lot of blood. Now, for God’s sake, be still.”
Skye closed his eyes until the wave of sick dizziness passed. He felt appallingly weak, and the pain in the region of his left shoulder throbbed as if someone were still stabbing him, again and again. He thought he’d been almost conscious a few times before this, but he wasn’t sure; his fuzzy mind held only the dim recollection of voices and touches and pain. In any case, he was fully awake now. And the pain was a constant thing. After a few moments he opened his eyes cautiously and ignored the pain. He was in bed, he realized. In Katrina’s bed. “Where’s Trina?” he asked his brother.
Dane nodded toward the closed door leading to the den. “Talking to the doctor. I told her you were too mean to die on her, and once the doctor confirmed the truth of what I said, I think she made up her mind to kill you herself.”
Skye frowned, trying to make sense of that. Katrina had been angry, he remembered, but that had happened long before he’d left the park, and he had been certain he’d managed to win her forgiveness. “She’s mad at me?”
Leaning back in the armchair that had been placed by the bed, Dane surveyed his twin with rueful amusement. “I suppose it never occurred to you that she would be?”
“No.” Skye was baffled. “I knew she was a little upset, but she didn’t seem to be mad when I left.”
“My mistake, I suppose,” Dane said.
After staring at him for a moment, Skye said, “How did I get back here? Adrian—”
“Is back at the house, with Daniel and a couple of his marshals standing guard. He has a concussion because he hit his head on a rock when you both went down. And you got back here through no doing of your own.”
Despite the curve of firm lips that most people would have taken to be a smile, Skye wasn’t deceived. Taking note of and correctly reading the steely light in the eyes so like his own, he prudently remained silent while he hastily considered his options. He had seen Dane truly enraged so rarely that he could have counted the occasions on the fingers of one hand even after thirty-five years; but massive earthquakes, Skye had decided, seldom rocked the same section of real estate more than once in a century.
Dane’s temper was like an earthquake, and though Skye was all too apt to wave red flags at bulls of all varieties, he tended to avoid angering his brother. This time, however, it was obvious that he had outdone himself.
“I’m a wounded man,” Skye offered, eyeing Dane warily.
“I realize that.” Dane’s voice was deceptively polite. “I could hardly help but realize it, since hauling your carcass out of that mine shaft is destined to be one of my more enduring memories.”
Skye winced. “Sorry,” he said, and there was real remorse in his voice. He could imagine what Dane had gone through.
Dane wasn’t quite ready to forgive. “Between trying to stop you bleeding to death and at the same time get you out of that hole in the ground as quickly as possible, Katrina, Derek, and I had our hands full. Kelsey just slung Adrian over one shoulder since he was out cold, but we had to be a bit more careful with you.”
“Katrina?” Skye stared at him, forcing his sluggish mind to begin working again. “She was there? Wait a minute. This doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re telling me.”
Oddly enough, Skye had never lost his own temper with his brother, and didn’t now. “Dane, what happened?”
After a moment Dane said, “Katrina came straight to me after you’d left. I was out in the park, with Derek and Kelsey. We decided to take the helicopter Josh had standing by in case it was needed. Katrina said she was coming with us, and I had better sense than to argue with her. When we got to the house, we found the map, and I remembered the mine. After that it was just a matter of getting there and inside, and trying to find you. We were close when we heard the gunfire, but by the time we reached the cavern, it was impossible to get a shot at Adrian without hitting you as well. We had to wait.”
Skye was staring at the ceiling, his eyes holding a strange, vibrant light. Absently he said, “The bastard must have known someone was following him, though I’ll swear I never made a sound to alert him. He’d hidden in the cavern with his lamp on a boulder and the flame turned down low. When I came in, he threw a knife at me. Got me too, damn him. While I was pulling the knife out, he turned up the lamp and started shooting.”
Dane was watching him intently. “The shots didn’t last long,” he noted.
“No.” Skye’s lips twisted. “It would have been funny if he hadn’t been trying to kill me. We both slipped. Can you beat that? Professionals sliding like clowns in the mud, and our guns going flying. The guns landed in the water, where I’d thrown the knife. I didn’t find out Adrian had a second knife until he charged me with it. I think he got me a couple more times, but not seriously.”
“That first time did the damage,” Dane told him. “Nicked an artery. That’s why you were losing blood so fast.”
Skye nodded, then grimaced as the motion sent a jolt of pain through his body. “There seemed to be a lot of it, but I didn’t have time to try to stop it. I don’t remember much more before I blacked out, except that I was trying to get that damned knife away from him. Did I?”
“More or less. You managed not to stab yourself with it when you fell on him. You cracked three of his ribs, by the way.”
“I think he cracked a couple of mine,” Skye noted, su
ddenly conscious of a constriction lower than the heavy bandages on his left shoulder and upper chest.
“He did.” Dane sighed. “Once we got you back to the helicopter, we came straight back here. The closest doctor was the one Josh had stashed here just in case. We alerted Josh by radio, and the doctor was waiting for us. He pumped a few pints of blood into you—”
“Not all from you,” Skye objected.
“No. Luckily for you, Derek, Rafferty, and Josh have the same blood type, and they volunteered. Anyway, the doc patched you up and strapped your ribs. He says you can’t get up for a week.” Smiling a little, Dane watched that sink in. “So let it be a lesson to you,” he added dryly.
Skye was frowning. “I’ll be up by tomorrow.”
“No, you won’t,” said Katrina calmly from the doorway.
Turning his head cautiously to look at her, Skye’s eyes lit again with that strange, vivid gleam. “Tomorrow,” he repeated in a silky tone.
She was a little pale, but her lovely face was composed and her amber eyes were gazing steadily at him. “If you try to get up before next Friday,” she said in a gentle voice with all the flexibility of tempered steel, “I’ll shoot you myself.”
Dane turned a sudden laugh into a cough.
Before Skye could respond to her threat, she added, “Dr. Randall says you can have some soup if you want. Are you hungry?”
“Yes. But not soup.” Skye’s eyes were veiled, but through the long lashes they looked brighter than ever.
She ignored that. “I’ll call room service.” Stepping back out into the den, she pulled the door shut again.
Dane watched his brother curiously, taking note of the long fingers moving restlessly on the covers. Even his left hand was fidgety, and he shouldn’t have been able to move it at all; that arm was in a sling to keep the shoulder immobile.
After a moment Dane said quietly, “She’s been with you the whole time. More than twenty-four hours.” He didn’t add that Katrina, hollow-eyed and fierce, had refused all help but the doctor’s in taking care of Skye.
Skye looked at him, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “You said she—went into that mine?”
“I didn’t try to stop her,” Dane admitted. “Couldn’t have. She was hell-bent on going in after you.”
A rough breath escaped Skye. “Dane, ever since she was a child, Trina’s been claustrophobic.”
Dane returned that intense gaze, then smiled a little. “I don’t think she even noticed.” He rose to his feet, and changed the subject. “Do you want to eat lying flat on your back, or would you like to try sitting up a bit?”
The process of being raised and propped up against several pillows brought a film of sweat to Skye’s pale face, but with Dane’s deft help it wasn’t as painful as it might have been. “Thanks,” he muttered, and lifted his right hand to his face experimentally; it shook a bit, and his arm felt leaden, but at least he could move. “I need a shave,” he realized.
“You look like hell,” his twin told him frankly.
The comment reassured Skye somewhat, because he hadn’t been sure if his brother was still furious with him. He had no doubt that Dane would swear at him later, but for now he seemed to have calmed down about the situation.
Breathing carefully to avoid jarring his cracked ribs, Skye said, “What about Hagen?”
“No problem.” Dane touched one finger to the neat mustache adorning his upper lip. “I’ll get rid of this and borrow some of your clothes; he won’t know the difference. There’s nothing much doing until Saturday anyway. Josh was here earlier, and I told him there was no reason to cancel the caper.”
“Of course there isn’t,” Skye said. “And I’ll be back on my feet in a day or two.”
Dane shook his head slightly, but said, “I’ll go and tell the others you’re firmly back among the living.”
“It was that close?” Skye was startled.
“Too close.” Dane’s voice was grim.
Skye said roughly, “I’m sorry.”
Dane knew Skye wasn’t sorry for having risked his life. Given the same situation, Skye would act exactly the same way again. He was sorry only that others had been worried. He couldn’t know, Dane thought, that they’d been scared half to death. Sighing, Dane said, “One of these days…”
Skye smiled suddenly, the crooked smile that was as rare and unexpected as it was disarming. “Yeah, I know.”
Dane went to the door and opened it, stepping back to allow Katrina to carry in a tray. Addressing her, he said, “If you need any help keeping that renegade where he’s supposed to be, let me know. I’ll come and sit on him.”
“Don’t worry,” she replied serenely.
Skye looked at her a bit uncertainly as his chuckling brother left and Katrina approached the bed. He had searched her face eagerly the moment he had first seen her, but although what Dane had told him seemed to indicate that she felt a great deal more for him than just desire, he hadn’t been able to find any evidence of it in her calm expression or steady eyes.
She wasn’t hiding from him exactly, and she wasn’t aloof, but he had never seen her so utterly tranquil. Her very calm was like a barrier, rock-steady. And he’d never seen her eyes so dark and still. It puzzled him and made him uneasy, and he could feel his heart clench inside his chest as he wondered if she had somehow put herself totally beyond his reach. He wanted to ask but was afraid to.
Katrina leaned over to set the bed tray across his lap, then straightened. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me feed you,” she said somewhat dryly.
“Of course not.” He stared at the tray, and worry made him irritable. “I hate soup.”
“Too bad,” she said, sitting down in the chair by the bed. “The doctor says you eat soup, then you eat soup.”
She met his brooding look steadily, and after a moment he picked up a spoon with his right hand and began eating. Hardly conscious of her own exhaustion, Katrina sat quietly in the chair and watched him, resisting the urge to reach over and push the tumbled black hair off his brow. He was pale and clearly annoyed by his physical weakness, and she thought he was probably disgusted by the injuries that reminded him he was vulnerable.
She wouldn’t soon forget her own terror at that reminder. Even though she had known he could be hurt, there had been some part of her that had trusted in his amazing inner fire. But he had lain in this bed, utterly still for the first time in her memory, and the vibrant life force inside him had dwindled to only a flickering spark. His skin had been cool to her touch; those incredible eyes closed against her….
Not all the reassurances of Dane or the doctor had convinced her that he wouldn’t die, not during those first long hours when she had sat, her eyes fixed on his face, everything inside her willing him not to leave her. Then, gradually, she had seen the change in him, as if the indomitable spirit he held with such careless indifference within him had begun rebuilding the fire. His pulse had steadied and strengthened, and his skin had warmed slowly.
The doctor had suspected a fever at first, and had been surprised. “Odd,” he’d said to Katrina. “His temperature’s normal, but his skin—”
“That’s normal too,” Katrina had murmured, so weak with relief she had felt faint. “For him.”
“Must have a high metabolic rate,” Dr. Randall had muttered to himself.
After that she had believed Skye would make it. In a natural reaction she had been fiercely angry then that he had dared to risk getting killed. Dane had been sympathetic, listening silently and with twitching lips to her muttered and somewhat incoherent threats against his currently defenseless twin. He had suggested that she take a relaxing shower, since there was no longer a need for someone to be constantly with Skye, and her sudden realization of the dried blood on her clothes had sent her scurrying to the bathroom.
Now, more than twenty-four hours after Skye’s injury, Katrina was in a strange state of tranquility. She felt limp, almost numb, and curiously peaceful. She looked at him as he
reluctantly finished the hated soup, and she felt a wave of love wash over her with such force that she could only endure it silently.
He was complex and temperamental, sometimes thoughtless and often graceless, and he had a terrifying habit of risking his neck without hesitation. Becoming a part of his life would be like sailing off toward the ends of the earth to find out if dragons lived there: a dangerous, potentially heartbreaking, and altogether spectacular adventure.
Katrina wasn’t worried. She could swim. Whether he liked it or not, she intended to sail off with him. He might well feel nothing but desire for her—but he did feel that. It was something to build on, and she wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said suddenly.
She looked at the soup bowl instead and, seeing that he had finished, got up to take the tray back into the den. He caught her wrists as she leaned over the bed, his hand warm and hard.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said in a voice that was low and rapid. “I want you to look at me. But you’ve never looked at me like that before, and I don’t know what it means.” He released her wrist as she grasped the tray and straightened.
Katrina looked down at him for a moment, loving him so much she could hardly bear it. Softly she said, “It means I hope you haven’t gotten rid of that demon yet.”
He frowned and, in a totally blank voice, said, “Demon?”
She turned away from the bed and carried the tray back into the den. He shouted her name twice before she could return, and she came back into the bedroom to find him grimacing, his right hand clamped to his left shoulder. He had probably tried to get up, she realized, and before she could say anything about his stubbornness, he was holding that unrestrained hand out commandingly.