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probably messing all over the floor in fright,' Francis added, strolling over to the
    opposite end of the settee. Kirstie glanced at him and realised, for the first time, that he
    was clad in nothing but his briefs. She gulped and her gaze skittered away as he grasped
    hold of the furniture and said, 'Get ready.'
    He pulled hard at the settee and it screeched woodenly across the bare floor. The racoon
    exploded out of its corner right towards her. Heavens, she'd never seen anything waddle
    so fast in her life. Kirstie shouted and waved her arms to shoo it out of the front door,
    but it didn't get the message.
    At the last moment she leapt on to a nearby armchair that teetered dangerously before
    crashing on to its side, flinging her to the floor. She managed to land on her hands and
    knees, very much surprised but unhurt, and when she looked around she guffawed to see
    the bouncing back end of the racoon whisk into the kitchen.
    Crying with laughter himself, Francis hurried over to her. 'Are you all right?' he gasped.
    'I—I think so. But what about the racoon?' She reached up both hands for his ready
    grasp and he helped her to her feet.
    'I suspect he'll make it out under his own steam now.'
    'How?' Hurrying to the kitchen, she found the racoon already gone, the evidence for both
    his visit and his hasty retreat in the window still wide open from when she'd cooked
    supper, and the baptism of fish bones scattered all over the counter, stove, floor— even,
    she found, in the sink. A small pan lay upside-down on the floor, its matching lid in a
    far-off corner.
    'Oh, dear,' she giggled, pointing to the pan as light dawned. 'The crash I heard '
    '—and the rattle,' finished Francis, whose face was still creased with merriment. He
    wiped his eyes. 'I'm afraid this is all my fault. I put the scraps in the pan to throw out in
    the morning, and I left the window open to finish airing out the smell of cooked fish.'
    '"I don't "' she stuttered, holding her aching side. '"I don't want to— panic you unduly"!'
    'Rub it in all you like,' he returned good-naturedly. 'Still, you handled it pretty well.'
    'Are you kidding? I was petrified!'
    At long last he sobered, the amusement dying slowly out of his expression, and, looking
    at him, Kirstie was stricken with the thought that the laughter was what had been
    missing from his face. He sent her a sharp green glance, disturbingly intense, and asked
    softly, 'Oh, yes? Was that before or after you knew it wasn't me?'
    She wasn't prepared for it, and the silken question was like a douche of cold water on
    her face. She shivered, for her oversized T-shirt had become too thin. Even her skin was
    too thin, for he had slipped right under it, and she wrapped her arms around herself, a
    telling, defensive posture.
    It was clear from the way he stood, unselfconsciously graceful in only the briefs that
    covered his male nakedness, that he was braced for the bitter retaliation he obviously
    expected from her, and the scale of the injustice she had done to him was appallingly
    evident in the instinctive way he had sought to protect her earlier. Suddenly she knew
    that he would have done the same for anybody else in their situation.
    She wondered if her misjudgement hurt him, and somehow she couldn't bear the
    possibility of it. She licked her lips and said in a dry, painful whisper, 'But, I '
    Without a change in his intent, dark expression, he stepped up to her and put his hands
    on to her shoulders. The warmth from his heavy palms anchored her to this place, this
    unwilling confession. She stared up with huge eyes at his face bent over hers. He
    whispered back, 'Say it.'
    The indecision in her broke. 'Francis,' she said, unaware of how his name came out of
    her like a cry for reassurance, 'I didn't lock my door!'
    How grim the line of his mouth was, how taut. 'So you didn't,' he agreed.
    She shook her head from side to side, and he raised one hand to run his fingers through
    the short hair at the