There was another cat, a small, shy little tabby, who might be healthy enough to make the trip to the fair, as well. She mentally calculated how many crates she'd need. Stella would have to drive her pickup.

She took a deep breath and tried to keep from worrying. If she didn't place them this go-around, she would the next. She wouldn't think about Archer and his demands on her time... or her future. She'd made a pact with herself that for tonight she'd simply pretend all was normal. At least for a few, blessed hours.

Right now all she was looking forward to was heading into the house, stealing some of Baleweg's herb m.u.f.fins-one high point of having him around was he'd turned out to be a marvelous cook-and sinking into bed with a book. A biography maybe, or something on animal behavior. Definitely not fiction. She was getting enough of that in real life, thank you.

She whistled for the two dogs, who were wrestling over a stick. She shook the box of dog bones and whistled again, laughing as they immediately dropped the stick and trotted over to her. "Always suckers for a treat, you two." She tossed them each a small milk bone, then slapped her thigh and opened the gate that led to the inside runs. "Come on." She'd put them next to each other, which seemed to be working out well.

Once they were safely in for the night, she made the rest of her rounds, checking for tipped-over water and any other possible problems. Satisfied that all was well, if not entirely peaceful, she let herself out the end door.

"Do the rowdy blodgers ever all sleep at the same time? A fella has a harder

time sleeping out here in the middle of nowhere than in the city."

Talia let out a little squeal, then swung around to find Archer leaning against the fence.

"Didn't mean to startle you."

"How long have you been there?"

He effortlessly vaulted his rangy body over the top. "Long enough," he said.

She didn't want to know long enough for what. She did know she wasn't ready

to be alone with him again. She had no experience dealing with men like him, not that she could imagine there were other men like him. "Why are you out here?"

"You didn't think I was going to let you wander out here in the dark

unprotected, did you?"

He'd made his case for staying and she'd grudgingly admitted to herself, especially after their talk about Dideon and Emrys, that he might be right. But just because she needed his protection, didn't mean she had to like it. "Well, I'm done now," she said shortly, "so you can punch the clock."

"I beg your pardon? Punch what?"

She looked to see if he was teasing her, but he appeared serious. "It's an expression. Means 'to clock out, punch your time card, stop working for the day.'

He shrugged. "I don't punch a clock, as you say. I work as long as there is

work to be done."Lovely. A workaholic mercenary. Just what she needed. "Well, you can do what you want. I'm heading in for the night."

She glanced up to the house. The left tower-room window glowed. Baleweg was still up. And Archer had taken over the hammock on the porch. She'd offered him one of the other upstairs rooms that first night, when it became clear he was intending to stay along with Baleweg. But he'd told her that the hammock was the best place for him strategically. She'd shrugged and left him to it. Actually, she'd been relieved.

The idea of Archer under the same roof as herself, even though the house was enormous, was a little too unsettling. Not that knowing he was directly beneath her window had left her feeling all that settled.

"Don't you name the little battlers?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

He nodded to the kennel, where the dogs were not so quietly settling in for the

night. "The mongrels you so willingly give shelter to. You never call them by

name."

She definitely didn't want to get into this discussion. d.a.m.n him for being so observant anyway. "I use general terms, like boy, girl, buddy, whatever."

"Don't they tell you their names, then?"

She looked sharply at him. "They don't 'tell' me anything."

He shrugged, not remotely abashed by her reaction. "I don't claim to

understand your gift. Not really."

"Gift?" She wanted to laugh at that one. "It's an ability, nothing more. I thought empaths were commonplace in your time."

"Empaths exist, sure. But that doesn't mean I know all about them or how it

works. I don't happen to know any personally. Until now."

Was he asking? She didn't know how she felt about explaining it to him. It was such a new experience, being treated so naturally. It made her feel oddly vulnerable, probably because he knew more about her, the real her, than anyone, and yet he was a total stranger to her.

He c.o.c.ked his head to the side, a grin making his dimple wink at her. "A real battle going on in there."

"What?"

"You really want to believe we're making all this up." He took another step closer. "Only maybe, just maybe, the idea that it might be true thrills you a little. Doesn't it?" He took another step closer, and the air seemed to thicken, even though it was cooler now. "I think you want to believe there is a place where you fit in." He stopped a mere foot away. "You aren't all that well understood in this time, are you, Talia?"

Dear G.o.d, did he have to go and use her name like that? There was something about the way he said it, and it didn't have everything to do with that flat Aussie accent, either.

"I can understand that, you know," he went on. "I know what it is to be a

misfit."

She had a sudden fleeting sensation of that dark hollowness she'd almost touched. No, they weren't remotely the same, no matter that they were both

essentially loners in their respective worlds. She worked to put a sardonic edge to her tone. "I guess your line of work doesn't exactly come rife with pals and coworkers, huh?"

He smiled, that c.o.c.keyed half-smile that deepened the little cleft in his chin.

"Not so you would notice, no. But I was a misfit long before I found my walk in life. I imagine the same could be said of you. In fact, we probably both found our callings because we didn't fit in, wouldn't you say?"

She wanted to tell him to stop comparing himself to her, stop saying they were anything alike. But he'd moved even closer, somehow robbing her of what little rational thought she had left. She could only nod in response.

"And what about you? What about those pals and coworkers? Is there no one you trust with your secret?"

"Secret?" she managed. He was far too close.

"You don't tell anyone, do you?" He didn't give her a chance to answer. "Is it because you fear they'll abandon you? Or simply think you're odd in the head?"

She smiled without thinking about it, then swallowed hard as she saw his eyes leap to life in response to it. She did try to move away, but he lifted his hand and gently brushed back a loose strand of hair that was dancing about in the night breeze.

"I do understand, Talia Trahaern. Everyone knows who we are as defined by our careers. We share that part of ourselves because it benefits us to do so. But we both have secrets, you and I, the things we keep locked in here." He let the tendril drop and grazed the back of his fingertips across her heart.

"And I think your heart is more tender than you are willing to admit."

He moved his hand away, and she had to catch herself from leaning forward.

He turned her hands palm up, cupped in his own. He was looking down at

them as he spoke. "You don't give them names because you'll lose part of your heart to them if you do." He glanced up into her eyes, then dropped her hands.

"And you can't risk your heart again, can you? Not ever."

The hollow look she'd seen in his eyes during that brief glance brought her directly back to that instant she'd connected with him. Some part of her heart tightened before she pulled loose, both physically and emotionally. So they both kept their hearts safely tucked away. That was certainly a good thing.

She put some s.p.a.ce between them, but had to clear her throat to speak. "I don't give them names for the logical reason that naming a pet should be the right of the owner, a bond made between them. No point in confusing the poor thing by giving it something to recognize only to have someone come along and change it." He wasn't looking at her, which should have made her little speech easier, but it didn't. "You better than anyone understand I have a special attachment to every animal here, whether I wish to or not. So naming them is of little consequence when it comes to risking my emotions." Which was true, to a point.

That half-smile, the knowing one that made her feel naked and exposed,

returned. But mercifully, he kept his hands to himself. "So defensive."

She had to stop herself from crossing her arms over her chest. "You were the one poking and prodding. I was merely trying to answer you."