Luke surged forward, twisting in midmotion to avoid slamming the doctor out of the way as he reached for the door. Collier stopped him, catching his arm before he could open it, Luke turned on the older man, holding himself in check, fighting back the almost nauseating waves of violent anger. His muscles vibrated with it, and Collier’s eyes flickered uncertainly to the rigid muscles of Lukes forearm under his hand. But he held firm, and Luke willed the blinding fury away, the part of him neither wolf nor man that longed to hurl his old friend aside like so much chaff. Instead, he waited until he could make coherent sounds again before he spoke.
“I have to go to her,” he said, hearing his voice almost even, almost reasonable. “Let me go, Allan.”
He felt Collier register the warning, but the doctor met his eyes and stood his ground. At another time Luke would have admired, as he often had in the past, the older man’s fearlessness. Now he was an obstacle that Luke was not in the mood to deal with. He prepared to wrench his arm away and shove Collier aside, but again the doctor forestalled him.
“She needs rest, Luke.” The calm concern that had made his friend’s reputation for an effective bedside manner caught Luke’s unwilling attention “She’s been through a great deal—as you well know—and I’ve only just now allowed her to sleep. As it is, she’ll have to be awakened every hour or two, because of the concussion; she needs all the rest she can get in between.” Luke read the firm compassion in Collier’s mild blue eyes and looked away, setting his jaw against a desire to ignore the doctor’s gentle rebuke and common sense. After a long, tense moment he let his fingers slip from the door handle, pulling out of Collier’s grip and retreating several paces across the room. His body demanded immediate, violent action, but he held himself still until the doctor relaxed and moved away from the door. They stared at each other, at last Collier sighed and settled himself on one of the carved stools by the stove, rubbing his forehead wearily.
“You did well, Luke, in taking care of her until we found you. She could have lost a dangerous amount of blood from the scalp laceration; as it was, the real danger came with the concussion. Thank God you handled that correctly and kept her breathing.” Collier looked up, and Luke watched him steadily, focusing on the words that declared Joey safe. “The cracked ribs are exceedingly painful, but I was able to give her a direct injection of anesthetic. That’ll help her to breathe until the danger of concussion is past, and we can move her to oral painkillers. In the meantime she’ll need some careful watching, but she’ll be all right.”
Turning away, Luke stared out the cabin’s single window, careful that the doctor couldn’t see the effect of his words. The soft blanket of snow had created a fairy-tale village that might have been populated by heroic woodcutters or wicked witches. As it was…
“What I don’t understand, Luke—how could this happen?” Collier’s voice cut into his thoughts like a knife and twisted the blade. “I’d never have believed you’d have allowed her to be exposed to that kind of danger. Even if there was nothing else between you—I can’t believe you’d be capable of such carelessness.”
The absolute control with which Luke restrained himself sent a shiver through his clenched muscles, and the hair rose along the nape of his neck. He trapped the visceral ferocity of immediate response in his throat for those few instants of silence, hearing Collier’s breathing accelerate, aware that the doctor recognized what he was seeing.
When he was certain of his ability to make the words form in sequence, Luke turned back to his friend. Reminded himself that Collier was his friend, and not an enemy.
“It was my fault,” he whispered. In spite of his efforts he could not keep the subtle threat out of his voice. “I should never have taken her. But it’s done now. Too late for your lectures now, Allan. Much too late.”