A Candle in the Dark by Chance Megan

Author:Chance, Megan [Chance, Megan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Historical
ISBN: 9780440214878
Publisher: Dell
Published: 1993-08-02T00:00:00+00:00

It was barely eight o’clock the next morning when Jiméne came back from the hotel, five recalcitrant mules in tow. With them was the animals’ taciturn master, Jose. The muleteer’s only greeting to Ana had been the twitching of his heavy mustache, and then he and Jiméne left again for supplies, leaving her alone with a sick, shaking D’Alessandro.

Ana glanced at her partner. He was tugging at the pile of newly purchased saddlebags, sweating profusely, looking distressingly pale. Guilt washed over her, and Ana’s throat tightened.

Before she knew it, she was walking across the grass toward him. He didn’t look up until she was barely a few feet away, and then he straightened, bracing his hand on a nearby tree to keep from falling. His shirt was loose, and it hung open, revealing his chest. The dark curls covering his skin didn’t hide the accentuated ridges of his ribs, and his broad, high cheekbones highlighted the gauntness of his face. He was much too thin.

She bit her lip and moved forward. “Are you all right?”

“That seems to be the question of the day,” he answered in that deep baritone, still husky from all the screaming he’d done in his delirium. “Yeah, I’m all right.” He moved away from the tree and rubbed the back of his neck. The sleeves of his shirt fell back, revealing the raw, red welts around his wrists.

Shame dropped into her stomach. “I—I wish we hadn’t had to do that.”

He followed her gaze. “Ana, let’s not talk about it now,” he said. She heard the struggle in his voice, a hungry pain that pierced through her. His hands began to tremble, and he dropped them again. “I don’t want to think about it. I—I can’t think about it.”

“You seem much better this morning.”

He laughed shortly, bitterly. “Do I? I don’t feel any better. To tell you the truth, if Jiméne hadn’t been walking beside me on the way into town earlier, I’d have dodged into one of those taverns without a second thought.” He paused and looked away from her as if seeing something else entirely. “Do you know how many empty bottles are lying in the road from here to the village? Two hundred and six.” He exhaled slowly. “Two hundred and six.”

“You could control it if you wanted to.” Her voice sounded cold, and she winced.

D’Alessandro looked at her. “You sound like a friend of mine.”

“A friend? Is his name John? Or Rafael?”

It was a casual question, a way to take the uncomfortable vulnerability from his eyes. But he jerked as if she’d slapped him. His mouth tightened, his eyes blazed. “Where did you hear those names?” he demanded.

“You said them in your fever.” Ana frowned. “Why? Who are they?”

“No one.”

His distress made her curious. Something was bothering him, something important, and suddenly she wanted badly enough to know what it was that she forgot he might ask a question in return. She stepped closer. “Obviously they were men who tormented you.”

He stepped away. “It’s none of your business.

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