Hawk's Prize Read Online Free PDF Page B

behind her.
    Tricia dropped the ring back into the pouch as if it had scalded her fingers. She said defensively, “I was trying to find something to identify you. We don’t know your name . . . where you come from.”
    “Identification . . . in my money pouch?”
    “You don’t have anything else.”
    “Stay out of my things!”
    Tricia took a breath. He was obviously still not himself. Holding her temper, she responded, “What is your name? If you’d tell me now, I could—”
    “Just leave me alone.”
    The fellow’s light eyes closed as he winced with pain. Regretting her brief annoyance, Tricia moved back to the bed and whispered, “I’m so sorry that you hurt yourself again. I should’ve prevented it, but I—”
    Startled when he grasped her arm and pulled her down so close to him that she could feel his sweet breath against her lips, Tricia was unable to protest. Her voice caught in her throat when he stared into her eyes and said with a heat totally unrelated to his fever, “You’re available to anybody here who has the right price. That confused me at first, but it doesn’t anymore. I may not be in a position to take advantage of what you have to offer right now—but I will be.” Drawing her infinitesimally closer, he said in a voice that was more warning than promise, “You can depend on it—angel.”
    Releasing her abruptly, he ordered, “Until then, stay out of my things.”
    Tricia struggled to ignore the rapid beating of her heart as she responded, “You have the wrong idea about me. I can’t blame you for that, I suppose, but I—”
    Tricia stopped speaking when the big man’s eyes flickered closed and he began mumbling incoherently again. She touched his forehead and panicked at the heat she felt there.
    Where was that damned doctor?
    Activity in the bordello below was brisk and the upstairs rooms were busy as the twilight darkened, but Dr. Wesley appeared oblivious to it all as he worked athis patient’s bedside. Turning toward Tricia at last, he said, “I can’t be absolutely certain, considering his condition, but the bruise on this fellow’s head seems to be a superficial wound. It is a complication, of course, but I don’t think it’s a dangerous one. The infection in his leg doesn’t seem to be responding to the medication, however, but without any history on him, I can’t do much more than I already have. His fever is obviously still high. Fevers always seem to soar at night for some reason, but I can’t blame his on the time of day.” He frowned. “If we only knew who he was and where he came from. We need to talk to someone about him.” The graying physician stared at her over his rimless glasses as he inquired flatly, “You have been seeing to it that he takes his medicine on time, haven’t you?”
    “Of course I have!”
    “I’m sorry, but I had to ask.” Dr. Wesley attempted a smile. “I’m very concerned about this young man. The infection in his leg appears to be worsening rapidly. If his condition doesn’t start improving soon, I may be forced to amputate in order to stop it.”
    “No!” Tricia struggled to draw her emotions under control as she continued, “I mean . . . I don’t know this fellow well. Actually, I don’t know him at all, but I do know one thing about him. He’s fiercely independent. He doesn’t want to rely on anyone, and he won’t want to be put in a dependent position.”
    “I don’t know that I’ll have any choice.”
    “There’s always a choice.”
    “And what would that choice be, my dear?” His expression softening, Dr. Wesley said, “He may die otherwise.”
    “He should be given a choice—however limited it is.”
    “He’s in no condition to make a sensible decision right now.”
    “Then someone who is.”
    “Who might that be? Chantalle had someone check the saddlebags on his horse—to no avail. If we knew where he was staying, we might discover something in his room so we could find out what treatment