The wound was on his left triceps. Raising his arm, he looked at it. “All we can do now is scrub it clean and hope infection doesn’t set in.”
Her hands trembled as she reached for the lye soap. She dipped the tiny bar into the water, worked up some lather and then set her fingers against the wound. “Hurt?” she asked.
“What do you think?”
“I think that was probably a silly question.”
When she began to rub her fingertips against the wound in small, circular motions, she could feel his muscles tightening. She knew the soap was stinging the wound, that the pressure she was applying was causing pain. But there was no way around it, so she continued with the cleansing.
“Tell me about Daniel Savage.”
She froze for an instant. “He was my coworker.”
“Was he your boss?”
“I was his boss.”
He nodded. “Were you friends?”
“Yes.”
“Were you more than friends?”
“Yes,” she said after a moment.
“Okay.”
She didn’t know what he meant by that simple acknowledgment, but she wasn’t going to elaborate. She didn’t want to talk about Daniel or just how big a fool she’d been to let him into her heart.
“Do you have any proof he set you up, or is your theory conjecture?”
“My theory is based on logic. I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything that happened. Cutter, I’m sure of it. Every piece of evidence that was used against me points to him.” She sighed and was surprised to hear a shudder. “I think your graze is as clean as it’s going to get.”
“Thanks.” Grimacing, he pulled his shirt back over his shoulder and glanced toward the window. “Looks like the storm may be letting up.”
Relieved to be off the subject of Daniel, Mattie followed his gaze. The snow was still coming down, but not as heavily. She could still hear the wind, but it no longer shook the walls. “Do you think we can travel?”
“I think we should try to get some sleep. If the weather continues to improve, we’ll take off in a few hours.”
EVEN THOUGH Mattie was exhausted, sleep refused to come. She lay a few feet from the hearth on the scratchy blanket and stared into the low-burning embers, trying not to think about the state of her life. Outside, the wind no longer howled, but she could still hear it whispering through the cracks of the old cabin. The patter of snow against the windows had slacked, but she could still see it falling beyond the dirty glass.
She’d just begun to drift when a sound from across the room jerked her awake. It was the kind of sound an injured animal made while in the throes of death. Alarmed, she sat up and looked around. In the dim light from the fire she could see Cutter lying on the floor a few feet away. She was about to call out to him when she realized he was the source of the sound.
It came again. Part moan, part scream, the sound was fraught with pain and terror. It was a hopeless sound filled with resignation and suffering. The kind of sound that made her want to put her hands over her ears.
She saw his body jerk. Once. Twice. A moan wrenched from his throat. “Monique,” he groaned. “Aw, God…Monique…” He muttered something in French.
Not sure if he was in the throes of a nightmare or if he’d developed a fever from the bullet wound, Mattie rose and went to him. “Cutter?”
He moved so quickly she didn’t have time to react. One moment she was bent over him, touching his shoulder, concerned that he was delirious with fever, the next she was lying on her back with the blade of a knife pressed to her throat.
He stared down at her for a full five seconds before blinking. She could see him pulling himself back. Cursing, he shook himself, then got to his feet and walked over to the window to lean against the sill.
Mattie lay on her back, her heart pounding, unable to believe what had just happened. Something horrific had been released inside him. Something that didn’t have anything to do with the bullet wound or fever or even the situation. He’d thought she was someone else. Someone he’d wanted to kill. She’d seen the surprise in his eyes the instant he’d recognized her. The flash of regret. The realization that he’d been out of control and about to cross a line.
Slowly Mattie got to her feet. “What the hell was that all about?”
“Don’t ever do that again,” he ground out.
“Do what? Show concern?”
Cutter braced his arms against the sill. “I don’t need your concern.”
“You cried out in your sleep. I thought you’d developed a fever. I was trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help.”
Mattie touched her throat where the blade had been pressed. Anger joined the chorus of shock and fear when she looked at her fingertip and saw blood. Her hands and legs trembled as she walked over to him. “You came within an inch of cutting my throat.”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.” She thrust her fingers at him.
His eyes flicked to the blood. Remorse filled his gaze. “I’m sorry. I thought you were…someone else.”
“Who?”