The sudden realization that he was completely naked took him by surprise. Someone had carried him to this bed and undressed him. The woman couldn't have carried him. No way. Did that mean she had a husband? A father? A brother? He didn't remember anyone except the woman and her enormous animal protector.
Had the woman called the sheriff? Were deputies on their way here right now to take him to prison?
Her words had been a promise, but Reece didn't trust promises. He'd found in his vast experience with the human race that most people lied whenever it suited them.
Reece tossed back the covers, slid his legs out of the bed and touched his feet to the floor. Although his body ached with a bearable soreness, neither his head nor his side hurt. Undoubtedly, none of his ribs had been broken in the accident-either that, or the woman who had tended his wounds had miraculously healed him.
He had to find the woman, had to ask her where he was and figure out exactly what his chances of escaping were. But he was buck naked and didn't see anything in the room that vaguely resembled his county-issued coveralls. However, he did notice a stack of folded clothes on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed.
Slowly, tentatively, Reece stood. Swaying slightly, his head spinning, he grabbed the bedpost. The faint vertigo passed as quickly as it had come. Righting himself, he walked around the bed, lifted the stack of clothing off the cedar chest and smiled when he realized he held a pair of men's briefs, a thermal top, a flannel shirt and a pair of well-worn jeans. There had to be a man in this woman's life, probably here in her home. Where else would she have gotten men's clothes? And from the look of them, the items belonged to a fairly large man, someone about Reece's own size.
But why couldn't he remember a man?
Taking his time, Reece put on the clothes, then looked around, wondering if the lady of the house had thought of footwear. Sure enough, resting on the wide rock hearth was a pair of thick socks and leather work boots.
Reece sat on the raised hearth, breathing in the aroma of aged wood burning slowly, and slipped on the socks and boots. Whoever owned these boots had a foot about a half size larger than Reece's, but the minuscule difference was of little importance. The jeans were a perfect fit, the flannel shirt and thermal top only a fraction large. The owner undoubtedly had the shoulders and chest of a linebacker.
Running his hand over his face, Reece noted the beginnings of a beard. He needed a shave, and he could do with a hot shower, even though he felt relatively clean. Memories of his ministering angel bathing him flashed through his mind. A shower and shave could wait. He needed to find his hostess. Reece laughed aloud. His hostess? For all he knew, the county sheriff could be waiting for him just beyond the half-closed door.
Reece inched the door open, peered out into the dim hallway, saw no one, but heard a man singing an old- fashioned tune, something from the forties or fifties. Following the music, Reece made his way down the hallway, noting the huge living room in the opposite direction and a massive wooden staircase leading to the second level of the cabin.
The kitchen door stood open. Bright sunshine poured in through the lace-curtained windows. Harry Connick, Jr.'s mellow voice singing 'I'll Dream of You Again' drifted through the cabin from the radio-cassette player on the counter. Reece's vision took in three things in quick succession. A blue-granite wood-burning stove placed in front of a corner brick chimney, a round wooden table set for a meal, and a smiling woman holding a pan of biscuits. The smell of coffee, frying bacon and sweet spices made Reece's mouth water. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.
Then he heard a low growl and saw the big black wolf-dog he'd encountered the night before. That damned animal didn't like him. And why should he? Reece reminded himself that he had invaded the dog's home and threatened his mistress. Threatened her with his gun. His gun! Where was his gun? He'd been holding it when he'd passed out.
'Well, good morning.' Elizabeth thought Reece looked rather handsome with a two-day growth of beard and wearing Sam's old clothes. 'I'd about decided you were going to sleep away another day.'
Reece stopped dead still in the doorway. 'Lady, who the hell are you?'
The practical realist in him warned that this woman was a stranger and not to be trusted, but his male libido reacted differently, appreciating the woman's earthy beauty, the ripe fullness of her sturdy body, the basic sensuality that surrounded her like a visible aura.
Elizabeth set the pan of biscuits on a hotpad atop the counter, turned to Reece, took several steps in his direction and held out her hand. 'I'm Elizabeth Sequana Mallory. You're in my home, on my mountain, in Sequana Falls.'
Reece didn't make a move to enter the kitchen or to take Elizabeth's hand. Why the hell was she being so friendly? She acted as if he were a welcome guest. Was the woman crazy?
'Breakfast is just about ready. Come on in and sit down.' Elizabeth turned, busying herself with preparing two plates. 'How do you like your coffee?'
'Black.' Reece walked into the kitchen, stopping abruptly at the table, grabbing the top of the wooden chair.
'I see the clothes and boots fit you all right.' Elizabeth placed two plates of eggs, bacon and hash browns on the two blue place mats.
'Your husband's?'
'No.' Elizabeth poured coffee into two Blue Willow cups.
'What did you do with my gun?' Reece clutched the back of the chair.
'It's in a safe place.' Elizabeth set the cups on the table, pulled out a chair and sat down. 'Aren't you hungry?'
Reece glared at her. What did she think this was, a damned picnic? Although they were total strangers, this woman was treating him like a long-lost friend.
'Don't worry, Mr. Landry, when you leave I'll return your gun to you.' Elizabeth lifted the cup to her lips.
Reece watched her sip the hot coffee. Her lips were full, soft and a natural rosy pink. He remembered that those lips had touched his cheek. She had kissed him! Her small hand held the cup securely as she continued leisurely sipping the coffee. Reece noted the delicate size of her hands, but remembered their strength, remembered those slender fingers caressing his face, touching him lightly.
Dragging his eyes away from her lips and hands, Reece suddenly realized she'd called him Mr. Landry. She knew who he was. He hadn't been imagining things when he thought he'd heard her calling him Reece.
'How do you know my name?'
'Sit down, Reece. Your breakfast is getting cold.'
What the hell was wrong with this woman? Didn't she have the good sense to be scared? After all, she obviously knew he was an escaped convict, a murderer on his way to a life term in the state penitentiary.
Releasing his death grip on the chair, Reece reached out, grabbing Elizabeth by the shoulders, turning her in her seat. She stared up at him with surprised blue eyes. The expression on her face was a mixture of fear, doubt, hope and supplication. This woman-Elizabeth-wanted something from him. But what?
'What's going on with you?' he asked. 'If you know who I am, why haven't you called the sheriff?'
'I know who you are, Reece Landry.' You're the stranger in my heart, the man who has invaded my thoughts for five months. 'I heard a news bulletin on the radio yesterday morning telling about a sheriff's car that wrecked and the escape of a convicted murderer who was being transported to Arrendale.'
'You heard a bulletin on the radio yesterday morning?' How was that possible? He hadn't escaped until yesterday afternoon. 'What day is this? How long have I been here?'
'You came here the night before last. You were exhausted, injured and suffering from minor frostbite and exposure. Then you ran a high fever for a while.'
'Son of a bitch!' Reece loosened his hold on Elizabeth's shoulders, noticing for the first time that her wolf-dog had moved to her side. 'Have you notified the sheriff's department?'
'I can't. The phone's out.' Elizabeth hated herself for lying to Reece, but she felt it was a necessary fabrication. The phone had been working since early this morning, but she had unplugged it, preventing anyone from calling her.
Elizabeth laid her hand atop Reece's where it rested on her shoulder. As if he'd been burned by her touch, he jerked his hand away.
'So you're stuck with me for the time being, huh?' Just because she hadn't been able to notify the authorities
