Silk and Secrets(13)

The warmth and sweetness of the tea having steadied Ross's nerves, he leaned back against the velvet cushions and willed himself to relax. This was possibly the strangest day of his life. To be sitting here next to Juliet after so many years, with her patching him up like a coat that needed darning—it was too unreal to believe.

Yet her presence was also too vivid to deny. He was intensely, physically aware of the warmth of her fingers, her faint spicy scent. She, on the other hand, seemed quite unaffected by their closeness.

Needing to break the silence, he said, "Do you often play guardian angel for foolish travelers?"

"If I hear of potential trouble, I do what I can."

Juliet began spreading ointment over his abraded upper arm, but though her fingers were deft and gentle, the effect was not soothing. Ross felt edgy, ready to jump out of his skin.

She went to sit on his right side and began working on the cuts and grazes there. "Needless to say, it was a considerable shock to find that you were the ferengi in question."

"I don't doubt that, but why didn't you identify yourself right away? I found your little games unamusing."

She hesitated. "I wasn't going to identify myself. I intended to send you on your way without revealing who I was."

"Then you shouldn't have succumbed to the urge to humiliate me in front of your men." His voice was edged. "Up until then, I had no suspicion."

Color rose in her face again and she became very busy with cleaning a deep, still-oozing scrape on the side of his hand. "I wasn't trying to humiliate you. Believe it or not, the main reason I asked you to take your shirt off was that I was concerned. When we arrived on the scene, it appeared that you had been seriously injured. In fact, at first I thought you were dead, for I saw that Turkoman shoot you at point-blank range."

"It isn't easy to hit a moving target from horseback." He chuckled. "I hope Dil Assa is now berating himself for his bad aim."

"He's probably too busy fleeing my men to have time for that." Juliet's tone was light, but her first horrified recognition of the man lying on the ground still burned in her mind. She had never thought to see her husband again. Certainly she had not expected to see him killed before her very eyes. "While it was obvious that you weren't dead, you'd been roughed up thoroughly and you moved as if you were in pain. When we arrived back here, I wasn't sure whether you were being stoic or were injured worse than you knew. So I decided to see for myself."

Ross's eyes glinted. "Perhaps concern was your main reason, but that implies other reasons. What were they?"

Juliet felt herself flushing again and cursed the clear, pale redhead's complexion that too often signaled her emotions. "You were so... so damned imperturbable. I succumbed to the unworthy desire to see if I could make you show some reaction." Finished with her task, she set her medical supplies back on the tray.

"If a reaction is what you wanted, you were certainly successful." Drawing on his shirt again, Ross said reflectively, "Interesting that you thought my calmness was so irritating. The same thing almost got me killed once before. Does that mean the British stiff upper lip is dangerous?"

"So it would seem." Juliet had found his stoic detachment infuriating. When they were married, she had seen him withdraw behind that barrier of remoteness with others, but never with her. "Was the bullet through your chest a result of excessive calmness?"

"No, that came when someone tried to kill a friend of mine and I stupidly got in the way."

Juliet considered questioning him further, but decided against it. Ross, the understated aristocrat, would never admit to anything as embarrassing as bravery. Besides, there was no reason why she needed to know what had happened to him.

As he fastened his cuffs, he said, "While it would have been simpler if you had managed to keep your identity secret, you didn't, and I find that I have rather a lot of questions to ask. You may have one or two yourself. Shall we begin?"

Now that the cat was out of the bag, Juliet could not, in fairness, deny him the chance to ask how she had come to be here on the edge of the world. But at the moment she was in no state to begin what would be a profoundly difficult discussion.

"Not now." She stood, her black robes swinging. "There are some things I must do this afternoon. Will you dine with me this evening? We can talk until we're both hoarse and furious."

"As we surely will be," he said, a glint of amusement in his brown eyes.

Ignoring the comment, she continued, "Between now and then, you should rest, perhaps visit the bathhouse. Hot water will help some of those bruises." She gave him the small jar of ointment so that he could reapply it as needed.