"Your habit will be dry tomorrow," he said, putting on the shirt. It was warm from her body and, disconcertingly, held her fragrance. Ryder buttoned it and tucked the tails into his trousers. He watched Mary draw the blanket more closely about her.

"Maybe you'll think twice before you toss me in the drink again."

"If all it costs me is a warm shirt, I'll gladly pay the price." She picked up her book, opened it, and effectively shut him out, though he was still blocking her light.

Her breathing didn't settle into its normal cadence, however, until he moved out of the way. Mary had no idea how much time passed.

She read two chapters of An Investigation of the Laws of Thought, on Which Are Founded the Mathematical Theories of Logic and Probability.

It was slow going, but it engaged her mind fully and for a few hours she didn't dwell on her situation. It was a call of nature that finally made her rise from the rocker and stretch.

Ryder was sitting cross-legged on top of the blankets when Mary got to her feet. He put down the gun he was cleaning as she picked up a lantern.

"Where are you going?"

"The water closet," she said primly.

"That is allowed, isn't it?"

"It's allowed." He came to his feet.

"With an escort."

"Oh, for God's-" She clamped her teeth tightly and left the remainder of her thoughts unspoken.

Ryder noticed that Mary had no difficulty finding the route back to what she euphemistically called the water closet. Her sense of direction was as good as he feared it might be. He let her take the lantern in with her, but when she returned he took it from her and made her wait in the dark passage until he finished. She was waiting in the exact spot in which he left her when he got back, seemingly paralyzed by the un penetrable blackness that had surrounded her. She blinked several times with the introduction of his lantern light. The blanket had slipped over her left shoulder.

Ryder lifted it to cover her again, then placed his hand at the small of her back and nudged her forward. Mary sat back in the rocker, but she hadn't had a chance to pick up the book before Ryder was towering over her. She raised her chin defiantly.

"What is it now?"

"Give me your hand," he said.

"Why do you-"

"Give me your hand."

"Right or left?" she asked sharply. He grabbed her wrists and squeezed until her fingers uncurled. Her left hand was empty. In her right one was a small, sharp stone. He picked it out of her palm before her fingers could close over it, held it up to examine it. The sharpest point of it was shiny and warm where it had been rubbed against another stone. Ryder didn't need to return to the passage to know that Mary had used the stone to mark the cavern wall. He tossed the stone out of the entrance to the chamber. It ricocheted in the corridor before it landed on the floor.

"You're determined to give me trouble, aren't you?" Mary didn't deny it.

"Let me go," she said, massaging her wrists.

"Take me to a place where I can be found. I won't tell anyone where you are." In answer, Ryder pulled a length of rope out of his back pocket.

"Right hand," he said.

"What are you-" He took her right hand and secured the rope around the wrist.

Instead of tying her other hand with it, he attached the free end to his own wrist. When Mary jerked against her bonds she immediately tightened the knots. She tried to slip the rope off, but it wouldn't go over the ball of her hand. Her struggle made the blanket fall off her shoulders. She couldn't even reach it without pulling him with her. Pride made her stop. A physical fight with Ryder wasn't dignified, and more importantly, she had no chance of winning it.

"I suppose you think you have a reason for doing this," she said.

"I'm tired," he said.

"I want to sleep.

And I don't trust you."

He bent, picked up the blanket, and gave it to her.

"We're going to lie down, then I'm going to get some rest. I don't care if you do or not, but while I'm sleepinng you'll stay by my side."

"This is ridiculous," she said, very low. She tried to hold her ground when he moved toward the designated bed, but he dragged her along with little effort, blowing out the lanterns along the way. Only one was left lit and he placed it on the slab of stone just above the blankets before he lay down. Mary was crouched uncomfortably beside him.

"I don't want to sleep here."

"Then stay awake," he said.

"You can sleep anywhere you want after I've had some rest."

Ryder turned on his side. The movement of his arm forced her closer.

Mary was cold. She couldn't even rub her bare arms without disturbing him.

"All right," she said with little grace, "but I need a blanket over me.

I'm freezing." Ryder sat up long enough to fix the blankets so some were under them and some could serve as cover. This time when he lay down it was so he could place his arm around Mary's waist. He felt her stiffen, but she didn't pull away, not even when he fit himself to the contours of her curved body.

"Warmer?" he asked. Mary couldn't find her voice. Aware of him to the point where she could be aware of nothing else, Mary could only nod. Her limbs ached with rigidity, but she couldn't make herself relax, couldn't imagine that she would be able to fall asleep.

"You have a great deal of courage," he said. His voice was thick, husky, just a shade louder than a whisper. His breath was warm, and it touched the back of her neck.

"Perhaps too much."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Too much courage can make you foolish. Trying to mark the passage with a stone .. . that was foolish. And earlier.... with the Henry rifle... that was foolish."

"I suppose it seems that way to you." He wanted to shake her, make her see sense, but he was too tired. Except for the few hours of rest he'd grabbed when they'd first reached the cavern, Ryder had had almost no sleep in more than two days. Waiting for his sentence, then waiting for it to be carried out, had not been the stuff of dreams.

"I don't want to hurt you, Mary," he said quietly.

"I don't want to be responsible for your getting hurt."

"You're threatening me." Ryder echoed her earlier words as he closed his eyes.

"I suppose it seems that way to you." Mary woke thirsty. She sat up and scooted forward before she felt the pull of the hateful tether.

Ryder was still sleeping and didn't appear to be aware of the tug on the rope they shared.

Mary looked at him, her smile scornful. She'd hardly dared move because he'd made her believe he'd know it right away. The truth was a little bit different than that. Asleep, he wasn't nearly so intimidating. His strong profile had softened. The lips, slightly parted, and the thick sweep of lashes made him seem young, even vulnerable. His dark hair had dried. An inky strand of it had escaped the thong and lay across his cheek. Mary was tempted to touch it, to push it aside.