One Summer’s Knight

“No,” she said, through lips that barely moved, “now…please.”

The silence held for perhaps three suspenseful seconds more. Then Summer felt the breeze of a silent exhalation, and once more the pressure of Riley’s fingers on her elbow. He said to the three interested spectators, with mocking courtesy, “Would y’all please excuse us?” as he drew her with him into the empty rest room and closed the door.

She felt light-headed, her ears were ringing. Afraid to give herself time to think about why that should be so, Summer launched into what she knew was a pointless protest, delivered in harsh whispers. “I’m not about to let you just haul us off without knowing where it is you’re taking us.” I will still have some control over my life I must.

For a long, tense moment he gazed at her, his eyes dark and thoughtful. Then, as if he understood, he suddenly nodded. That astonished her so much that she felt as if the bands that were holding her together inside had just snapped, leaving everything loose and trembly.

“Mrs Robey, you know the situation better than I do. Not only do you have children and animals with particular needs, but there’s the security aspect to be considered. Someone has tried to do you harm. They may do so again.”

“Yes,” Summer whispered, and swallowed. “That’s why I can’t go to my family. Please understand, I can’t take this-my trouble-home to them.”

Again he nodded as if he truly understood. “Which is why I believe I have the only solution. I’m taking you home with me.”

“Home-with you? No.” Instinctive reaction forced the word from Summer’s lips. She repeated it in a whisper, her breath gone. “No. Absolutely not. I can’t-won’t let you do this.”

Pride. Riley’s temper flickered and flared like heat lightning, and he had to turn his back on his client for a moment to let the breezes of reason cool it down. He understood the woman, but that didn’t make dealing with her any easier. In some ways, it may even have made it harder.

He turned to her again, his eyes sliding downward past her face, the dangerous shoals of terrified eyes and a too vulnerable mouth, as he reached for her hands. No-nonsense hands. A doctor’s hands. A mother’s hands. He held them for a moment, feeling their strength, their gentleness, their competence. Then he let them go and slipped his hands to her wrists. A woman’s wrists. He felt their fragility.

“Tell me something,” he said softly. “If you were to break these, what would you do?” She made a small, surprised sound. “No, really-if you were to break both of your arms, say, in a fall, what would you do? Would you hire someone to feed you, dress you, brush your teeth for you? Would you ask a friend?” She shook her head in silent denial and tried to pull her hands away. He held them tighter. “No-better yet, what if you had an illness, a life-threatening illness? Would you consult a doctor?” He knew she was staring at him now, angry but unresisting. Bracing himself, he met the pride and fury and challenge in her eyes with all the strength of his own will. Knowing they were two of a kind. But I’m the stronger, Summer Robey. You may not want to accept it, but it’s true. I’m stronger because I’ve already been through my crucible. And yours is just beginning.

“Say you consulted a doctor. What if he told you you needed rest, treatment, tests-would you take his advice? Would you do what your doctor said? Or would you say, ‘Oh, no, thank you, but I can’t let you do that’?” He’d quoted the last in a feminine falsetto, and almost…almost thought he caught the glimmer of a smile.

If so, she banished it with an in-drawn breath and said flatly, “It’s not the same thing.”

Riley shook his head and lifted her captured wrists so that their eyes waged silent war between them. “Oh, no, Mrs. Robey, it is the same thing. You have a life-threatening situation here, and I’m the doctor who’s going to get you through it. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to relinquish control and put yourself in the doctor’s hands.”

“But…should I do that?” Her wrists jerked in his grasp. “What if he’s wrong? Doctors don’t have all the answers.”

“No, they don’t.” Without realizing it, he’d pulled her hands close to his chest. Now he found himself stroking the quivering tendons in her wrists with the tips of his fingers. His voice emerged unexpectedly thickened. “No, they don’t. But there comes a time when you have to decide whether you trust your doctor or not If you don’t, and you want to live, then you’d better find one you can trust. You follow me? So this is the time. Make up your mind now, Summer Robey. Do you trust me?”

Chapter 5

Do you trust me?

Such a simple question. One she could not possibly answer. Because the only answer she could have given him at that moment was “No! No, I don’t trust you.”

She didn’t trust anyone, and probably never would again.

That realization came to her like a knife thrust straight to her heart. She gasped at the pain of it, then murmured, “It’s not that simple.”

She stared at her hands, doubled now into fists, and right below them Riley Grogan’s fingers wrapped like manacles around her wrists. He had strong fingers, she noticed, big hands to match his frame, hands that were rather more rugged than she’d have expected, but which fit the image she’d carried of him in her mind. The other image. The street fighter. They did seem out of place, though, emerging from those pearly white cuffs with their gold-and-onyx cuff links, and the soft black fabric of the jacket sleeve. And they were immaculately clean, so scrubbed the skin had a buffed look, like fine leather, with perfectly manicured nails and the gleam of gold and onyx on the right ring finger. Her own hands looked grubby as a child’s by comparison.

For some reason that made Summer think again of Cinderella, whose hands must have been rough and chapped from the soap and water, with nails broken and black from the ashes and soot of the hearth. What must that poor girl have felt as she watched the Prince take her hand in his royally pampered one and gracefully raise it to his royal lips? Why, Summer thought, didn’t any of the books, movies or plays ever tell you what was going through her mind? At the very least she had to have been dying of embarrassment

Summer fixed her eyes on Prince Ch…uh, Riley Grogan’s pristine shirtfront, unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth and said firmly, “It’s impossible. I have my job. The children have-”

“Your kids aren’t going anywhere, I’m afraid. And neither are you.” His voice was as implacable as when he’d put the FBI man in his place. “Think about it As long as you three are targets-”

Summer stared at the tiny mirrors that were Riley’s black onyx studs, feeling dazed, as if she’d been hypnotized by them. Suddenly the whole thing seemed like a nightmare to her. “This is crazy,” she muttered. “I’m a veterinarian, for God’s sake. A mom with two kids. This sort of thing just doesn’t happen to people like me.”

“Hard as it is for you to believe and accept,” Riley drawled in that calm, patient and suddenly very Southern voice, relaxing his hold on her wrists so that it became at the same time gentler and more compelling, “somebody is out to do you harm. All you need do to remind you of that fact is to think about what happened to your house trailer.”

Summer closed her eyes. Oh, God, she thought, swaying a little. It isn’t a nightmare. It’s true. It really has happened. They had nothing-except, thank God, they still had one another, and the animals. The clothes on their backs. Whatever had been in the children’s backpacks. And, of course, that wretched car…

“This is no time for misplaced pride, Mrs. Robey.” Riley’s quiet voice had taken on a slightly harder edge.

Summer thought, Pride? What pride? How could she possibly have any pride left? She couldn’t even work. She couldn’t go to her family, not even to leave the children. Oh, God, she thought, what if they came after us there? How would she ever live with herself if she brought this mess to Bella’s family? To Mom and Pop? To Evie?

“Our first priority,” said Riley, “is gonna have to be your safety-yours and the kids’. That’s what you need to be thinking about right now.”

“Yes.” My children. The thought was strangely calming. Conscious, suddenly, of