She watched him disappear into the parlor, then turned and almost ran up the stairs. Her hands were shaking so much it took several tries before she could get the door open. She locked it behind her, then sagged against it and took a deep breath.
What was it about that man that made her so afraid? Or was Jayne right? Had she locked herself away for so long, she'd simply forgotten how to interact with people?
Maddie rubbed her eyes, then walked across the room towards the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes near the bed, then pulled off her socks. A cold breeze ran around her ankles and she glanced towards the bathroom.
Had a window broken? She hesitated, then cursed herself for doing so. What was she afraid of? Broken glass?
Opening the bathroom door, she switched on the light and looked in.
Jon lay sprawled on the floor, wet, bleeding and surrounded by glass.
Chapter Four
He was alive, she could tell that much from the rise and fall of his chest. But his color was appalling—he was so pale he could very easily have passed for a ghost. She quickly knelt down and felt his forehead.
His skin burned, despite his color.
'Jon?' She ran her hand down his stubble-lined cheek and lightly pinched his chin, trying to get some sort of reaction from him.
He groaned and opened his eyes. The power of his vivid blue gaze pierced her heart.
'Madeline.' His voice was little more than a harsh whisper, yet she heard surprise in it. 'I'm sorry.'
Sorry for what? Sorry for being such a bastard back in the forest, or for landing in a bloody mess on the floor of her bathroom? And just how had he managed to get back here so quickly?
'We need to get you out of these wet clothes,' she said, in an effort to organize her scattered thoughts.
He nodded weakly and closed his eyes. 'I've got dry clothes inside.'
Inside? What was he talking about? She frowned and wondered if, in his delirium, he'd wandered into the wrong room. Yet that didn't explain the broken window or the fact he'd somehow got past her locked door.
'Let's get you off this floor,' she said, deciding to tackle one problem at a time.
He nodded weakly, obviously hanging onto consciousness by a thread.
'Stay with me Jon,' she said softly.
Again he nodded. Was he fully aware of what she was saying or merely nodding every time she finished speaking?
'Okay, you've got to help me here.' She shuffled around to his feet, then reached forward and took his hands. His fingers were long and strong and very cold. 'One, two, three.'
She rose, pulling back as hard as she could. He lurched forward, teeth gritted, eyes blue slits of pain as he struggled upright. At his nod, she let go of his hands. He caught the edge of the shower door, using it to balance himself.
'Remind me not to do that again,' he muttered. His knuckles were almost white with the force of his grip on the shower.
Even so, he wasn't too steady. She quickly slipped her shoulder under his. The last thing she wanted was for him to fall back down. She'd never be able to lift him back up.
He stirred at her touch and opened his eyes, but his gaze was unfocused. She had the odd feeling he wasn't even seeing her, that something else held his attention.
'Don't let them find me.' Anxiety edged his hoarse voice.
'Who?' Was he delirious?
'Downstairs,' he whispered, then reached up, gently touching her cheek. 'They'll hurt you.'
His touch was cold, yet it sent fire racing across her skin. She licked her lips and wondered again at her sanity. Here she was, helping a man she didn't know and probably shouldn't trust. 'I can take care of myself.' Only too well…
'Not against them.'
He muttered something, his breath warm as it brushed over her cheek. Maddie shifted her grip on his arm. 'Walk with me, okay?'
She glanced sideways at him. Even as pale as pastry, he was certainly handsome. He glanced up, a sudden gleam of amusement momentarily blurring the pain in his eyes. She quickly swallowed the thought.
If she didn't know any better, she'd swear he'd read her thoughts. But that was impossible, wasn't it? At least, she hoped it was. She didn't want him to think she was after anything more than help to find Evan.
Anything else could be dangerous, for them both.
'Don't faint before you can get out of those clothes,' she muttered, pulling her gaze away from his.
She found herself staring instead at his boots. They were snakeskin, for heaven's sake. And his jeans where so damn tight they looked painted on. As wet as they were, taking them off would be more than an effort and it was not a task she particularly wanted.
'Let's go,' she continued, shifting her grip on his arm.
Supporting a good half of his weight, she staggered through the bathroom door and across the room. He dropped down to the bed with a sigh she echoed, and then he fell sideways towards the pillow. That was when she noticed the fresh blood on his bandages. The wound must have opened up when she'd hauled him upright.
A sharp knock at the door made her heart leap with fright.
'Miss Smith?'
Maddie jerked around. The voice belonged to the night manager.
'I can't be found here,' Jon croaked softly.
She glanced back at him. In his pain-filled gaze she saw concern, not for himself but for her. Or was she reading more in those bright depths than there really was?
'Why not?'
'It was after I checked into this inn that someone shot me. I can't risk being seen here until I know if it's safe.'
She raised a hand to her throat and looked back to the doorway. What if the night manager had a key?
What if he let himself in and discovered Jon lying there?
'Miss Smith? You okay?' Hank asked again, voice louder this time.
'Answer him,' Jon urged softly.
She cleared her throat. 'Yes?'
'Need to check your windows, Miss Smith.'
Damn. She couldn't very well tell him there was no damage and then report the broken window in the morning. She glanced quickly around the room. With Hank checking the windows, the bathroom was out. And the bedroom didn't offer much in the way of hiding places. 'The only place to really hide is in the wardrobe.'
'Help me up.'
She pulled Jon upright, then put her shoulder under his good arm, wrapping her other arm around his back.
'Miss Smith?' Hank called again, his tone sharp.
'Coming!' she yelled back.
She slid the door open with her foot, then helped Jon inside. As he lowered himself down, she reached up to the shelf above and grabbed the spare blankets, shaking them out to drape over him.
