Ahnvil toyed with the fork that had come with his tray, but as hungry as he was and as good as the food smelled, he wanted to make himself clear with her.

“I’m sorry. Just trust me when I say the less truth you know abou’ me the better it is for you. I doona want you in any danger. That’s part of why ’tis important to make sure no one can see into this house and not even the smallest shaft of sunlight can penetrate.”

She stood a moment, absorbing what he had said, and then gave a little nod. “Eat. I’ll take care of it. I’m not interested in your secrets, only in seeing you make it through this injury in one piece.”

She moved away and went to the sliding glass doors that normally went out onto a deck with breathtaking views of the valley below. She picked up the jacket she had discarded earlier and shrugged into it hastily. Then she toed out of her slippers and stuck her feet back into her boots. The snow that had gotten into them during her previous excursion out in the weather had melted and was cold and wet against her feet, soaking right into her socks. Once she was laced up and buttoned up, she unlocked the deck doors.

“Wait, what are you doing?” he demanded of her. She looked back at him, her features drawn and serious.

“I’m doing what I said I would. And I would appreciate it if you would do the same,” she said, nodding toward the tray.

“But …”

She didn’t give him room to argue. She stepped out into the storm. It was like stepping out from heaven straight into hell. The safe, quiet warmth of the indoors was swept away with a brutal howl of wind and the bitterly cold scouring sensation of ice stinging into every last exposed pore on her face, neck, and hands. Normally she would have bundled up far better than this, but it was only going to take a minute to close the heavy outside storm shutters over the doors. She’d managed to do all of the windows, but had not had the opportunity to get the doors since she’d been summarily distracted. But it wasn’t as easy as she had hoped for. The shutters were heavy even under the best of conditions, but in the brutal conditions of the storm and with the already heavily accumulated snow lying up against the doors it was almost impossible. She was going to need a shovel, she realized. She would have to shovel out all the gathered snow around the door and shutters before she would be able to close them, protecting the glass and keeping the light off her sun-shy guest. She let go of the shutter she’d been struggling with and turned to head back inside for warmer clothes and a more thorough game plan. She ran face-first into a branded chest and wall of naked abdominal muscles. He grabbed hold of her with one arm, using himself as a windbreak, protecting her from the worst of the harsh winds, and with the other hand he grabbed the left shutter.

He simultaneously thrust her back inside the house and yanked the shutter closed in one powerful movement. But he clearly paid a price for it. He grunted and leaned to one side. She shrugged off the grip he still had on her arm, figuring by his expression that had he been up to snuff he would never have allowed her to do so. She came back outside and grabbed the other shutter, determine to power it closed on her own, delighted when it obeyed only to look up and spy his hand on the shutter above her head. Resisting the urge to stamp her foot and pout, she turned on him.

“Get back inside! It’s too cold out here for you!” She eyed his naked body with purpose. Damn it, the man should at least have the decency to … umm … shrink from the cold like a normal man would.

“Likewise,” he replied, taking her arm once more and ushering her inside whether she liked it or not. But since she was freezing her ass off she didn’t argue or resist, however she did use her apparently miniscule strength to tug him in her wake. Once she was indoors, she locked the shutters down and slammed the deck doors shut.

“Get back in bed!” she commanded him, pointing for effect. Yeah, that’s it. No nonsense. All business. He’d have to take her serious in her well-practiced Nurse Ratchet voice. She’d gotten a lot of mileage from that voice, more than making up for her small stature with it.

The bastard chuckled at her, even as he put a pained hand to his side, making her realize he was seeping blood again. It was crimson against his fingers.

“You certainly are a wee pushy thing,” he drawled, his brogue rolling out of him in deep, sexy waves.

Wait! No! Not sexy. Don’t even think about sexy! God only knew who he was. God only knew what he was. She had no business looking at him like he was somehow attractive to her. He was a powerful stranger, possibly not even a human stranger. Powerful enough to be on his feet even though he was paper white from blood loss.

If not human, then what?

At her glare he held up conciliatory hands and made his way back toward her bed. He was limping, hunched slightly into his wounded side, clearly suffering pain. She wished then that she could have come up with some clever way of getting pain medication for him, but she hadn’t been able to think that far. His infection was much more insistently at the top of the list of things that needed to be dealt with. She couldn’t even think about the rest of the list right then, either, or she would be overwhelmed by it. The list of things she ought to be doing after finding herself a nursemaid to a dangerous, questionably human being. Like, call for help … run for the hills … or take a valium … something like that. She made herself take even, steady breaths and adopted an all-business attitude.

“Be that as it may, I know best in this situation, and what I say goes. Especially because this is my house.”

He gave her a measuring look right before he halted his progress toward the bed, turning around to tower over her. His height and his obvious strength were incredibly intimidating and she heard herself swallow. No doubt he did, too.

“You’re a tiny, li’le thing,” he pointed out, his voice a low rumble. “But make no mistake. I’m a stranger in your house. Twice your size and a trained warrior. I do nothing I doona want tae do and you know nothing else abou’ me. For all you know I’m a serial killer, wee one. Dangerous and a risk I am. One that you, wee as you are, shouldna have taken on.”

She scoffed. “I didn’t have much choice and neither did you. You would have bled to death and, by now, been covered in snow until the spring thaw! So don’t you try and bully me when I’m just trying to help!”

“ ’Tis no’ bullying,” he said, his tone rough and seemingly a little angry. “ ’Tis a risk you shouldna have taken.”