"I don't want to talk about it."

"Are you on the balcony?"

"No."

"Can you hear the shots from downstairs?"

"No, not anymore. All I hear is the music box."

Down, down, down, we go, touching the rose so red.

Why wouldn't he stop? She was being drawn back into that dark, hazy world.

"Where is Jill?"

Damn him, why wouldn't he stop?

"Where is Jill, Nell?"

"She's in the doorway," Nell burst out. "She's standing in the doorway, crying, and watching us. Is that what you want to know?"

"That's what I want to know. Why didn't you want to tell me?"

Her nails dug into her palms as her hands clenched. "Because it's none of your business."

"Why?"

Here we go down, down, down.

"Why, Nell?"

"Because I screamed." Tears were running down her cheeks. "I didn't think ... they always tell you to scream to frighten off an attacker. I screamed and she came out of the bedroom. It was my fault. If I hadn't screamed, she might have stayed in bed. He might not have known she was there. She might have been safe."

"My God."

She was rocking back and forth on the stool. "It was my fault. She came out and he saw her."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Don't tell me that," she said fiercely. "Didn't you hear me? I screamed."

"A terrible sin when a man is trying to stab you to death."

"It was a sin. She was my daughter. I should have thought. I should have protected her."

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "You did what you thought was right. Maritz would have found her anyway. He doesn't leave any ends untied."

"He might not have known she was there."

"He would have known."

"No, I screamed and he-"

"Stop it. The music box." He jerked her into his arms, his hand burying her head in his shoulder. "You said the music box was still playing. He would have known someone was in the other room. He would have checked."

She pushed back and stared at him in shock.

"You didn't think of that?"

She shook her head.

"It doesn't surprise me." He stroked her hair back from her face. "I wondered why you didn't blame me for what happened. You were too busy blaming yourself."

"I still blame myself. Do you think remembering the music box is going to make everything all right?"

"No, not until you forgive yourself for being alive when Jill is dead."

"When Maritz is dead, I'll forgive myself."

"Will you?"

"I don't know," she whispered. "I hope so."

"So do I." He drew her back into his arms and rocked her back and forth. "So do I, Nell."

She could smell his scent, feel the roughness of the terry-cloth robe against her cheek. No passion, not that heated awareness, just a golden peace. She stayed there for a long time, letting the peace enfold her, heal her.

Finally, she raised her head. "I should go back to my room and get to sleep. You'll say I'm sluggish tomorrow."

"Probably." He drew her down on the couch and pushed her head back on his shoulder. "Worry about it then."

She relaxed against him and let the peace flow into her, around her. Strange that Tanek, who wasn't at all peaceful, could bring her this serenity. She would stay just a little longer and then go....

She was nestled against him as trustingly as if he were her mother, Tanek thought in rueful disgust.

It wasn't what he'd had in mind.

He'd wanted casual sex and emotional distance.

He'd gotten no sex and a greater intimacy than he'd ever experienced with a woman.

His own fault. He hadn't been forced into the role of surrogate mother.

Except by Nell's need.

His arm was cramped and painful, but he didn't move it from around her. He looked down at her hand lying lax on his thigh. Tiny half-moon marks indented the palm where she'd dug her nails. He gently touched one red circle. Scars. These marks would fade, but the unseen ones would linger. They were as ugly as his own, and the wounds bonded them together.

She stirred against him and murmured something inaudible.

"Shh." His arm tightened around her.

That's what a mother should do, right? Give comfort and hold the nightmares away.

He sighed resignedly. This definitely wasn't what he'd had in mind.

Thirteen.

Nell sleepily opened her eyes when he put her down on her bed.

"It's okay. Just tucking you in." He pulled the cover over her. "Go back to sleep."

She met his eyes, beautiful light eyes shimmering in the dimness of the room. "Good night."

"Call if you need me."

"I won't need you. Thank you for-"

He was gone. No, not really gone. She still felt his presence ... comforting, sensual. How strange that the two could exist side by side. At the moment, comfort was a bigger part of their relationship than sex, but she knew that would shift. The prospect no longer disturbed her, she realized. Something had changed that night.

How stupid she'd been to resist, she thought drowsily. The man who had held her while she slept was no threat. Sex was no threat. It could be controlled like anything else, and the release would be good for her. They would be thrown together for weeks to come, and there was no sense in making it difficult for both of them. She would go to him tomorrow night.

A tiny stir of anticipation rippled through her, and she quickly suppressed it. She must not dwell on it and make it more important than it was.

It was only sex.

"You haven't found her yet?" Gardeaux asked softly. "What the hell have you been doing?"

Maritz's hand tightened on the telephone receiver. "I have a lead. She and the doctor's housekeeper were pretty chummy. The housekeeper might know where she is or if she might come back. I've been watching the doctor's house."

"Just watching?"

"I'll get her."

"Alive. We need her alive now. Things have changed. She may be the key."

"I know. I know. You told me."

"But did you listen?"

Bastard. Maritz gritted his teeth. "I said I'll get her."

"You seem to be having trouble with this little problem. Should I send someone else?"

"No," he said quickly. "I have to go now. I'll be in touch."

He hung up the phone. Send someone else? he thought, outraged. Spoil the end of the hunt, when he'd devoted so much time and effort to it.

No way.

Tanek looked up from his book when Nell opened the door. "Yes?"

She stood in the doorway. The lamplight fell on his bare shoulders and the triangle of dark hair that thatched his chest. He was obviously naked beneath the sheet. She took a deep breath. "May I come in?"

He closed the book. "Do you need to talk?"

"No." She moistened her lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I wondered if you ... do you still ..." She said in a rush, "I'd like to go to bed with you, if you don't mind."

He went still. "Oh, I don't mind. May I ask why?"

"I thought-There's too much tension between us. It will be better when-"

"Oh, it's therapeutic?"

"Yes. No." She drew a deep breath. "I want it," she said baldly.

He smiled and held out his hand. "Hallelujah."

She tore off her nightshirt, flew across the room, and dove beneath the covers and into his arms. "I don't know what to do," she said fiercely. "I hate this. I thought I'd never feel this uncertain again. Everything seemed so clear."

"Everything is clear." He stroked her hair. "What's the problem?"

"What's the problem? One, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. Two, I tried to tell myself that taking what I want is strength, but it might be weakness. And three, I've had two men and you've probably had two million women."

He chuckled. "Not quite."

"Well, you get the idea."

"I get the idea." He kissed her temple. "If you're nervous, we'll just lie here for a while and be together."

She relaxed against him. She could hear the steady pounding of his heart beneath her ear. It was like last night and she suddenly felt safe. "Maybe just for a little while."

"And if it will give you more confidence, I've never gone to bed with Helen of Troy."

"What?"

"Didn't Joel tell you he was aiming at giving you a face more memorable than Helen of Troy's?"