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idiot.”
    His curiosity over her turbulent background was lost in annoyance. Paul bowed with mock gallantry. “Your lack of charm is exceeded only by your bad temper.”
    Caroline watched him walk away and mentally rebukedherself for being so undiplomatic. He limped a little. Obviously the antelope had put up quite a battle with its three good legs. She told herself that she felt sorry for the antelope.
    She left the ferrets’ cage and went in search of Ed. She found him inside the plantation’s aviary supervising two college interns in the feeding of baby birds.
    “Quill sparrows,” Ed explained. “Development in the Florida Everglades has almost destroyed them.”
    “Blue wants me to take a look at the injured antelope. He said you’d show me where she is.”
    “Sure.”
    An hour later Caroline walked out of the antelope’s stall, smiling. Her subterfuge had been worth it. The delicate little creature was calmly curled up in a plush bed of straw, munching from a pile of alfalfa hay. Miss Antelope understood what Paul was trying to do for her now. She’d cooperate. Dr. Blue had better appreciate that fact.
    Caroline frowned. Even the antelope had air-conditioning.
    Thank goodness for moonlight. It turned his dark bedroom into sharply etched shadows. She found her way to the air-conditioner easily.
    Caroline knelt beside the humming unit and glanced fearfully at the large bed where Paul lay under nothing but a white sheet. He made a disturbing sight—large, prime, and extremely masculine, sprawled on his stomach with the sheet pulled low on his back and one long leg angled out.
    He was a wild man. He undoubtedly slept naked.
    Keep sleeping
, she urged silently as she took a second to scan his room. The furniture was antique, and sparse; old rugs covered the hardwood floor; the tallwindows were covered with thin white curtains. A set of doors opened onto the back balcony.
    His bedstead was a huge, ornately carved contraption set high off the floor. How regal, she thought, a majestic antique befitting a barbarian king. Her throat dry, she stared at his sleeping form for a long moment. She was treading in the barbarian’s lair, and he was one savage beast who couldn’t be soothed by the psychic music of her mind. That realization was wildly challenging.
    Caroline turned quickly to the air conditioner. She latched a hand around its electrical cord and worked her way down to the plug. She wiggled the plug away from the wall outlet and held her breath as the unit went silent.
    Sweat, Dr. Doolittle
, she ordered grimly but silently.
    A few determined sawing motions with a kitchen knife neatly cut the cord in two. Caroline tucked the severed end into the waistband of her pajama bottoms and stood up.
    Tiptoe like crazy
, her nerves urged.
Don’t look back. Go!
    She had just reached the foot of the bed when his low, sinister voice floated off the pillow. “What do you think I should do in revenge,
chère
?”
    Caroline jumped. The knife clattered to the floor. The cut electrical cord slithered down to the crotch of her pajamas. “Nothing, if you’re smart,” she answered as boldly as she could, considering that her knees were weak.
    He turned over languidly, his broad torso looking very dark and imposing against the white sheets.
    “Agree to give me an air-conditioned room and I’ll apologize,” she told him.
    “You’ll apologize anyway.”
    He swung his legs off the bed and tossed the sheet back. The moonlight covered him with teasing shadows,and he was definitely naked. He stood up and came around the corner of the bed toward her, his steps relaxed. He cleared his throat like a man just rising from a good night’s sleep, ran a hand through his hair, then held out his hand palm up. He was close enough to touch her if he wanted.
    “My cord,” he demanded.
    “My air conditioner,” she countered.
    The sudden explosion of movement caught her off guard. He leapt forward, snagged her around the waist with one