Free The Messenger: A Novel by Jan Burke Page A

plumbing.”
    “No use carrying nostalgia too far,” she agreed. She looked about her. He wondered what she made of the simple furnishings. A plain pine table. Four wooden chairs, the number a matter of tradition, since never more than one had been occupied at any given time. A fireplace. Unadorned thick walls. All the color in the room came from one throw rug and the bowls and cups on a simple sideboard. Amanda Clarke was undoubtedly used to far more elegant surroundings.
    To his surprise, she smiled and said, “I like it. It’s peaceful.”
    “Yes. If you’d like to wash up before we leave, there’s a bathroom just through that first door. Take the candle on the sideboard with you for light.”
    She glanced up at him, took both the candle and a large empty bowl from the sideboard, and went into the bathroom.
    The taking of the bowl puzzled him, but he had a bigger enigma before him. “Shade,” he whispered, “what in hell was that all about—that business of groveling?”
    Shade wagged his tail.
    “She’s not the queen of England, you know.”
    The tail wagged faster. Someone less familiar with the dog might not have seen what Tyler saw—an unmistakable gleam of amusement in the dog’s eyes.
    “Fine, have your joke.”
    The dog cocked his head to one side, then lowered it and stepped forward, softly butting up against Tyler’s legs.
    Tyler sighed and bent—somewhat painfully—to stroke the soft fur along the dog’s neck. “Of course I’m not angry.”
    He heard the water shut off in the bathroom, and soon Amanda emerged, candle extinguished and apparently left behind. She held the bowl carefully with both hands. It was filled nearly to the brim with water. She carried a towel and washcloth over one arm.
    He looked at her uneasily, and she said, “Now, after everything else, don’t start being a baby. Sit down, please.”
    He obeyed, mostly out of curiosity.
    She carefully washed his face, and when in response to her question he told her that he didn’t have any medical supplies here, she used her little first-aid kit to put an antibiotic on his cuts and to bandage one of the deepest. He didn’t have the heart to tell her how unnecessary this was, but when he saw her eyeing some of the smaller cuts, he said, “I heal quickly. No need to bandage the others.”
    She looked doubtful, but took him at his word, and went to work on his hands.
    He looked at her long, graceful—yes, graceful—neck, the dark strands of her hair falling to either side of her nape. I must be starved for affection, he thought.
    “Did I frighten you, earlier this evening?” he asked.
    She blushed but kept her head bent over her work. “A little. But mostly—it was—Todd embarrassed me, that’s all.”
    “He has two black eyes and a swollen nose. And I’m going to have to replace a few broken bottles of Rebecca’s booze.”
    He heard her give a little snort of laughter. “Thanks. But my, um…honor…was hardly worth fighting for.”
    “I disagree.”
    The blush deepened, she ducked her head a little more, and fell silent.
    Definitely too long without human affection, he decided. That must explain why having this young woman brush a warm cloth over his hands, spread his fingers, stroke them slowly and tenderly, was nearly enough to make him want to pull her to the floor with him. He began to feel grateful to the louts who had beat him to the point of not having the strength to do it. Despite his mind’s wild imaginings, his body was tiring quickly, a sure sign that the fever was not far away.
    “Thank you,” he said.
    She looked up at him. Big brown eyes. Long lashes. She wasn’t hard to read—she was happy.
    He shook himself. “I appreciate all you’re doing, but I think we’dbetter get back to L.A. To be honest, I’m concerned that they may try something there.”
    “Ron!”
    Yes, he thought, that’s the way of it. Remind yourself of whose territory you’re poaching.
    “I’ve hired security,” he