MOON FALL (39 page)

He nodded slowly. "I believe you," he said, though she
could hear the uncertainty in his voice. He made a half-assed
attempt at a smile. "The bottom line is, I can't bring in the
bastard who did this to you because I can't handcuff him."
His words broke the tension and she put her arms out to
him, the shock and hysteria flowing away as wrenching sobs
shook her entire body. He held her as if she were made of
eggshells and let her soak his shirt with her tears. She had no
idea how long they stood there like that, but finally the sobs
lessened and with that came release.
''Thank you," she whispered. She felt drained and purified
and she knew she loved him. ''Thank you."

He kissed her chastely on the forehead. "You're welcome."
He bent and picked up her sweater, then led her to the couch.
"Would you like me to draw you a hot bath?" he asked, as he
handed her the sweater.

"Yes, I'd like that very much." The thought of relaxing in
a tub made her smile. She hadn't realized how much she'd
missed bathing at leisure, without fear.
She heard water running, and when he returned he was carrying
a plush navy robe. He handed it to her. "If you need me,
just call. I'll be right here."

''Thanks." She took the robe and walked down the hall to
the bathroom. The tub was modem, slightly oversized, with
bubble jets frothing the water.
Heaven.
She undressed and
stepped in, easing down into the water.

As the warm bubbling water massaged her sore muscles, she
sighed and relaxed for the first time in a long while. She was
safe here, she thought, and it was a
wonderful
feeling. No Lucy,
no Richard, no ghosts.

But could they find her here? She touched her neck, realizing
she hadn't had Minerva's charm since the attack. Had she
been wearing it that night? She tried to remember, and thought
perhaps she'd left it on the night table. She hadn't seen it since.
It's silly, anyway.
She shivered despite the warmth of the bath.

"John?" sh
e
called.

Instantly she heard footsteps coming up the hall. "Yes?" he
called from outside the door.

"Please come in," she said, slipping down into the water to
hide her nudity.

He slowly opened the door and walked in, his eyes averted.
"Do you need something?"

"You. Sit down. Keep me company, please?"

He looked at her face, carefully keeping his gaze above her
neck as he sat on the broad edge of the tub. "My pleasure."

"You're a knight," she told him.

''What?"

''A white knight, rescuing me from the castle, remaining
chivalrous at all times. I feel so safe with you."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment."

"Oh, it is." She brought her hand out of the water and took
his, kissed the back of it. ''It most definitely is." Butterflies flew
into her throat and she swallowed them back down. ''Would you
care to join me?"

He didn't answer for a long time. "Yes, I would. But we
should wait until you're not so sore, don't you think?"

Sara nodded, giving him a disappointed look.

"Would you like me to wash your back instead?"

''Yes." She picked up the round sponge and the bar of soap,
put the two together, and rubbed, building up a lather. ''Here
you are."

He look flustered, then stood up. "I didn't do the laundry,"
he said sheepishly. "I have to wear this shirt again tomorrow."

"Take it off." She smiled.

He grinned. ''If you can, I can." A slight blush on his face,
he unbuttoned the tan uniform shirt, undid the buttons at his
wrists. He turned as he took it off, and she admired the broad
shoulders and the muscles in his back.

"You must work out," she said, as he hung the shirt over a
hook on the door.

"A little," he said, "but not like I should."
He turned toward her and she liked what she saw: a flat
s
tomach, moderately developed pec
s, and muscles in his upper
arms that were impressive but decidedly not of the gaudy
Stallone
variety. His chest was bare except for a modest thatch of
reddish-brown hair that trailed down his abdomen and disappeared
beneath his belt buckle. She felt passions stirring within
her and was surprised and pleased. She'd thought that after her
experience last week, she'd never want sex again. She wanted
it very badly but wondered if it was a reaction to all the stress
she'd experienced

He sat behind her and rubbed the sponge in lazy circles over
her back, then set it aside and used his fingers on the back of
her neck and spine, pressing gently but firmly against the stiff
muscles, never once hitting a bruise.

Finally, his fingers pushed over the front of her shoulders.
''That's wonderful," she told him.

He moved around to face her, used the sponge to soap one
of her arms, then the other. Then he massaged each one in turn
until all the stiffness had left her. She moved up higher in the
tub so that her breasts bobbed at the surface, then she saw his
expression and remembered the wound. She dropped lower in
the water.

He picked up the sponge. "How about a leg?"

She lifted one, enjoyed the friction of the sponge as he soaped
her feet and legs, stopping just above the knee. Then he began
the slow, steady massage, spending ages on her foot before
kneading her calf muscles. Again, he stopped at her knee, even
when she lifted her leg farther out of the water. He moved to
the other foot instead.

"You're a very frustrating man," she said.

He grinned. "You have no idea how frustrated. You're a real
test for my willpower."

"Let's make love, John."

He lowered her foot into the water and moved off the tub
and onto his knees. Gently he pushed her hair back from her
face. Cupping one hand behind her head, he put his lips to
hers. Their passion grew and his free hand slipped into the
water, caressing her belly, then working up to cup her uninjured
breast.

Then he stopped and pulled back. "We can't do this."

"Yes, we can." She ached for him.

''No, not yet."

"Why?"

"Because you're still in shock, and if I take advantage of
you now, you're likely to hate me later, and I don't want to
risk that."

"I won't hate you."

He kissed her lightly. "Well, I'll hate myself."

She nodded, knowing he was right.

"Also, you've been raped. I want to know you're all right.
What if I hurt you?"

"I'm fine."

"I want to hear that from a doctor."

"
Dashwood
said I was fine."

"He doesn't count." Anger flashed briefly in his eyes. "I
want you to go see Dr. Cutter tomorrow. I'll make an appointment
for you."

''No."

''Yes. If nothing else, your breast is infected."

''But
-
"

"It's not a human bite, I know. But it's still infected and
you need treatment. You could end up with blood poisoning,
and maybe we'd never get to make love."

"Hand me the robe." She stood up and stepped out of the
tub, angrily taking the robe from him and wrapping it around
herself. She turned to leave, but he was blocking the door. ''I
have to get back to the abbey."

He didn't budge. "Are you afraid of doctors?"

"I'm not submitting to any more humiliating poking and
prodding."

"You said you were unconscious when Dashwood examined
you."

"I was," she spat, "or I never would have allowed it again."

"Again?"

She could feel more tears coming, breaking down the wall
of anger she'd built. "He gave me a very thorough physical
when I arrived.
Very
thorough."

''What do you mean? Did he-?"

''Not that I recall," she told him, staring down at her hands.
"But my memory is a little foggy."

"Sara, was that the day I saw you being led out of the
infirmary?" He put his hand under her chin, forcing her to look
at him.

"Probably. Maybe. I don't know."

''Why did he examine you?"

''It's customary." Tears ran down her cheeks, but with effort
she stopped them. ''He examines the girls when they arrive,
too. I thought that was strange, but he said that he has to make
sure they don't have venereal disease, and that they haven't
been abused. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

John shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, yeah, it does,
but I can't stand the man, so I'm automatically seeing him as
the abuser. I'll ask Cutter to look into it. And speakin
g
of
Cutter, is Dashwood's exam what's made you gun shy?"

"Well, it was never my idea of fun, anyway."

"Look, I'll take you. He's an old family friend. Hell, Sara,
the man looks like Mel Torme. How frightening can he be? He
delivered Mark. He delivered me, for that matter."

"Okay." She tried to smile. "I'
II do it for you."

"Thanks. I'll call him. His house is right by his offi
ce
."

"You said tomorrow."

"Sara," he said, parting the collar of the robe to reveal the
top of the injured breast. ''Do you see those little red lines
radiating off the bite?"

She looked down, saw them, very faint. ''That's nothing. It
can wait until morning."

He put his hand on her
forehead. "You have a fever. It can't
wait. It's the beginning of blood poisoning. Do you want to go
with me now, or end up in a hospital? Or dead, if you do
nothing?"

"You're blunt," she said. "I'll give you that. Go ahead. Call
him. I'll get dressed."

"Where the hell is the little bitch?" Lucy stormed as she
paced back and forth in her office. ''You were supposed to be
keeping an eye on her."

Dashwood watched Sister Bibi's round eyes fill with fear.
''Her car's still here. I checked. Carlos asked to see her. He
said he needed to have her move it out of the way and she
went out with him. She hasn't come back."

''She wouldn't wander off into the forest, would she?" Dashwood
suggested.

Bibi gave him a grateful look. "She had her keys. If she
wa
s
going to leave, wouldn't she have taken her car?"

"Why didn't you watch to make sure she came back?" Lucy
demanded. "What's the matter with you?"

"She was with Carlos. I didn't think
-
"

''Precisely.
You didn't think.
We have to have her for the
All Hallow's Eve ceremony. If she's not back, Bibiana, you'll
re
place her!"

The little nun quivered. "I'll check all the rooms again."
With that, she was out the door.

Lucy paused. "Where's Carlos?"

"He must be home by now," Dashwood said softly. "Would
you like me to
-
"

"We'll deal with him tomorrow. I should have realized.
Richard, I believe I know exactly where our Miss Hawthorne
is. Carlos will pay dearly for this."

"Where?" Dashwood asked.

"That damned sheriff was here earlier, asking about the
gargoyles. He went out to talk to the gardeners. He must have
had Carlos fetch her. She's with him." She went to her desk
and pulled out a phone book, consulted it, then punched in a
number. She waited, drumming her fingers on the desktop, then
slammed the phone down. "No answer at his house."

"I'll deal with him," Dashwood said. The thought of killing
John Lawson excited him.

''What, Richard? Kill the sheriff two days before the big
night? Where's your subtlety?" She paused. "On the other
hand, perhaps you have a point No one would suspect us. Very
well. Take the same shotgun we used on Gus Lawson."

"With pleasure. I'll be off as soon as I fetch a sedative to
take to Sara."

"Do it," Lucy said. "If the boy is there, sedate him and
bring him along. They'll think he found his father dead and
ran off in fear." She laughed ''Or maybe they'll think he killed
him."

Dashwood left her office, her laughter shrieking in his ears.