This Fierce Splendor

want that old sawbones to doctor me if he was as sober as a judge.”

“You just have to get him here,” Dominic said grimly. “I’ll see that he sobers up.”

Patrick didn’t doubt Bellings would descend from his alcoholic euphoria with an icy plunge if Dominic was looking as deadly when the doctor appeared as he did at this moment, but he still hesitated. “I could go get Silver. Her village is closer than Hell’s Bluff and she’s sure used to tending battle wounds.”

Dominic flinched. The term battle wound was certainly apt in terms of Elspeth’s injury. “Will she come?”

“I think so. Who knows what Silver will do? She’s wild as a coyote.” He shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

“Then go get her. She can’t do any worse than I’ve been doing.”

A shrill scream shattered the stillness.

Patrick jumped. “Jesus, what was that?”

“Elspeth. She’s dreaming again.” Dominic turned and started back toward the cabin, his shoulders bowed as if he carried a great burden. “For God’s sake, get Silver here soon.”

Patrick nodded absently, his gaze on the cabin. “My God, she sounded scared to death. What in bejesus could she be dreaming?”

“Snakes.” Dominic didn’t turn around. “She always dreams of snakes.” He disappeared into the cabin.

Elspeth wasn’t asleep, she was huddled against the wall by the mat, her eyes shining wildly in her white face and her gaze fixed in terror on the rough pine floor. She screamed again, the harshness flaying Dominic’s raw emotions like the lash of a bullwhip.

“No snakes,” he said firmly, hurrying across, the room. “Do you hear me, Elspeth? There are no snakes.” He knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms, rocking her gently. God, she was no more substantial than a dandelion puff. She had lost weight in the past two days. He had managed to get a little water down her but not a bite of food. “You’re safe here.”

“No, I saw it.” She was fighting him, pounding his chest with her fists. “I saw it. It came sliding out of that hole.” She pointed a shaky finger at one of the unfilled knotholes on the pine planking of the floor. “A cobra. Puffing up and weaving back and forth. So ugly. I promise I’ll drink my milk next time. I know I was a bad girl, but don’t leave me. Just make it go away, Daddy.” The tears were running down her cheeks. “Make it go away.”

“No cobra.” He framed her face with his palms and looked straight into her eyes. “There are no cobras here. That was another time, another place. There’s nothing here that will hurt you.” He had certainly chosen well when he had threatened her with snakes, he thought bitterly. She had obviously been terrified by one as a child, for her ramblings had been full of cobras and ayahs and a father he was beginning to dislike even more than he had previously. The pompous little bastard had clearly been as cold and unfeeling as the cobra Elspeth feared so greatly. His palm gently stroked her thin cheek. “And I’ll not leave you alone.”

“You will. You will.” Her breath was catching in her throat as sobs shook her slight body. “You always do and it comes back. It comes back.”

“Shh, not this time.” He had to swallow to ease the tightness of his throat. “I’ll stay this time and chase it away.” He eased her down on the mat and lay beside her, cradling her in his arms. “You see, nothing can hurt you. Now close your eyes and go to sleep. Don’t be afraid.”

Her lids slowly closed and she relaxed bonelessly against him. “I try not to be afraid. I know you don’t like me to be a coward.” Her voice was a mere breath of sound. “I try to be what you want me to be… I do try to please you.”

“I know you do.” In the last two days he had formed a very clear picture of the child, Elspeth, who had striven so desperately to gain the approval of a father who would tolerate neither weakness nor mistakes. “You do please me. Always.”

“Do I?” The question was drowsily slurred and infinitely wistful. “I didn’t think I…”

Elspeth was asleep, her breath a light warm whisper against the flesh of his shoulder. His grip tightened about her. God, she felt breakable in his arms, as if the slightest pressure of his hands would cause her delicate bones to shatter. Why hadn’t he realized how vulnerable she was during those days when his fury and irritation had blinded him to everything but lust and pride? Patrick had known. A little owl who thought she was an eagle, he had called her. A very fragile, uncertain little owl who had forced herself to confront him on every occasion with more courage than a fiercer eagle might have possessed.

His hand moved over her hair with exquisite gentleness and a possessiveness that felt supremely natural to him, as if he were stroking the feathers of the bird to which Patrick had compared her. He didn’t know exactly when he had realized he was regarding her with a gentleness and he had never known for any woman. One moment she was Elspeth, and the next she was his Elspeth, his hurt, broken child, and God help him, his responsibility.

He closed his eyes. Lord, he was tired. He hadn’t slept since the night before he had brought Elspeth to the cabin. He was tempted to nap until Elspeth roused again, but if she regained her senses and recognized him, she might be more afraid of him than the damn cobra of her dreams. He slowly opened his eyes and carefully released her. He sat up and adjusted his suede coat she was using for a pillow before tucking the tan blanket around her bare shoulders. She moved restlessly and he froze into stillness until her breathing deepened once again.

He gazed dully around the small room. He had to do something or he would fall asleep, but he had promised Elspeth he wouldn’t leave her. His glance fell on the knothole through which Elspeth claimed her dream snake had slithered into the room. Damn Jim, why hadn’t he filled those holes? It wouldn’t have taken that long. Why was he asking himself a question to which he knew the answer? he wondered. Gold fever. No time must be wasted on mundane tasks when wealth beckoned from the hills like a shimmering siren.

Well, he didn’t want Elspeth to wake and see those gaping holes in the pine boards again; it might trigger another nightmare memory. He stood up and wearily arched his back to rid it of stiffness. He would look around and see what he could use to plug the knotholes that riddled the floor of the cabin.

* * *

Silver eyes were gazing at her with passionate intensity.

Elspeth fought her way through the thick, dark blanket pressing down upon her. Silver eyes. There was something very familiar about them, something she should remember. Dominic Delaney? No, there was no hint of blue in the eyes looking at her so calmly. These eyes were a true pale gray, framed by thick black lashes and shadowed by slender winged brows. The brows were familiar, she realized hazily. Those slightly winged, dark brows were similar to those of both Dominic and Patrick Delaney.

“Who…” Elspeth found she had barely the strength to form the word.

“Silver Dove.” It was a woman’s voice, low and melodious. “You were injured. Do you remember?”

Elspeth’s brow wrinkled in a frown as she strained to pierce the dark blanket that persisted in closing over her mind. “I was… running. The rocks were slippery and I lost my footing and rolled down.” She stopped as she recalled pain, blinding pain, then darkness. “I think I hit my head.”

“Good.” Silver Dove’s melodious voice expressed satisfaction. “Dominic will be pleased that you won’t remain a crazy woman as he first feared.”

“My God, Silver, what a thing to say.” Patrick Delaney suddenly appeared in Elspeth’s range of vision and was also looking down at her. “Here she’s just come to her senses and you have her worrying about losing them again.”

“What can you expect of an ignorant little squaw? I speak what is true, not like a white man.”

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, will you stop that? Who are you trying to fool? Rising Star has made sure you’re not ignorant, and we both know you say whatever you damn well please,” Patrick said dryly. “And your tongue can not only tattle the truth but run on with a story as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. Stop fooling, Silver. Elspeth’s not well enough to be a good audience for you.”

“I nursed her until she regained her senses, that is enough. She can’t expect me to be what I am not.” The melodious voice turned suddenly fierce. “If you wanted gentleness, you should have sent for Rising Star. You’ll have none of it from me.”

The passion in Silver Dove’s voice was so intense it cut through the hazy blanket surrounding Elspeth’s senses like a tailor’s sharp scissors. Her gaze focused on the woman kneeling beside her. Only Silver Dove wasn’t a