Uncaged. Lucy Gordon

career, this woman is dynamite.”

      “I know that,” he said through gritted teeth.

      “So what the devil is she doing in your house, unconscious and naked?”

      “You’re right,” he said quickly. “She needs something warm to wear.”

      “That wasn’t what I—” But Daniel had vanished, returning a moment later with a pair of his own clean pajamas. Angela gave up arguing and tended to Megan’s bleeding feet.

      “She isn’t going to get pneumonia, is she?” Daniel asked when Megan was dressed and wrapped up under an electric blanket.

      “I don’t think so. Probably just a feverish cold, but if she gets worse, call me at once. Are you a good nurse? She’ll need a lot of attention at first.”

      “Don’t worry,” he said with bleak humor, “I’ve got nothing else to do.”

      * * *

      The heat that had comforted Megan in the park had given way to violent shivering. She was burning up with fever, yet at the same time she was like ice. Somebody was piling blankets onto her, but it was no use. Aches and pains chased themselves through her limbs. She wanted to sleep but she felt too ill.

      Then she was being raised to a sitting position and a mug was being pressed to her lips. “Drink this.” She vaguely remembered the man’s voice but she couldn’t place it. “It’s hot milk and whiskey, and it’ll do you good,” he added.

      She obeyed, and took the tablets he gave her. But when she lay down she was still restless and began tossing about, throwing off the blankets. He piled them back onto her and she threw them off again. He seemed to have inexhaustible patience, because no matter how often it happened he was always there to push her back against the pillows and soothe her. She tried to fight him off, muttering, “I’ve got to...got to...”

      Got to what? She didn’t know. She only knew that some terrible problem was going unsolved while she lay here, and nobody else understood.

      But it seemed that he did understand because he murmured, “It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right. Just sleep and let me do the worrying.”

      After a while she stopped struggling and lay there, her hand in his.

      Daniel stayed quite still until he was sure she’d fallen asleep, then he gently tucked her hand under the blanket. He rose and stood looking down at her flushed face on the pillow. The strain was smoothed away from it now, but the dark shadows around her eyes told the story of inner torment.

      “What have I done?” he murmured. “Dear God, what have I done?”

      * * *

      In the limbo between sleeping and waking Megan found herself experiencing a new sensation. Suddenly there was nothing to worry about because someone was taking care of her, someone strong who could shoulder all her burdens until she could cope with them again herself.

      That had last happened when she was a child. Her parents had died when she was only sixteen, after which she’d had to fend for herself. She’d capitalized on her height and slender beauty to become a model, and for a few years she’d been in the front rank.

      Then she’d met Brian Anderson. At first she’d been charmed by him, but the charm had faded as she’d realized he’d had only one priority—success. He’d been an accountant in a high-profile firm, and he’d adored her because she was successful and well-known. He’d enjoyed being seen with a beautiful woman on his arm, but she’d gradually become convinced that his feelings went very little deeper than that. She’d been on the verge of breaking off the relationship when she’d found out she was pregnant.

      She’d never even considered an abortion. She’d wanted her baby, and Brian’s eagerness to marry her had warmed her heart again. Perhaps his child would make him see the world in less monetary terms. But it had had the opposite effect. Money and success became doubly important. He was furious when she’d abandoned her career because she couldn’t bear to be apart from her adored little son.

      When Tommy was a year old, Brian had broken away from his firm to start up on his own. Megan had been an asset to him, presiding over dinner parties where every detail was perfect, including her own impeccable appearance. But the socializing had meant nothing to her. The guests were invariably people who might be “useful” and afterward Brian would discuss them entirely in terms of their money and the business they might bring his way.

      The gap between herself and her husband had yawned wider every day, but she’d made the best of it for Tommy’s sake, and would have continued doing so, if Brian hadn’t gone too far. Trying to land a hugely rich but personally repellent client, he’d instructed her to “be nice” to him.

      “Just how ‘nice’ do you want me to be?” Megan had asked in an icy tone that should have warned him.

      Brian had shrugged. “He’s worth millions, he’s got no family and his hobby is speculation. Work it out.”

      Their own physical relationship had been over for a year at that point, but it was still a shock to discover that he’d respected her so little that he could suggest such a thing. When Brian returned home from work that evening, he’d found Megan and Tommy gone.

      He’d tried to starve her back to him, refusing to allow her a penny even for the child’s upkeep. So she’d returned to work, taking the kind of low-ranking modeling jobs that would once have been beneath her, and supplementing her income with escort work. In comparison to the luxurious life-style she’d left, they were hard up, but she was happier than she’d been for a long time—until the sky had fallen on her.

      In all those years there’d never been anyone to murmur “It’s all right...let me do the worrying.” But now someone had said it, and the words had given her ease.

      She opened her eyes and found herself in a strange room. It was large and shabby but comfortable. It didn’t surprise her that she recognized nothing. The events of the past few days had made the unfamiliar familiar, and the unexpected, the norm. She was hot and achy all over, and her head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton wool.

      Then the door opened, and her enemy came in. She stared, aghast, and tried to pull herself upright in the bed, but lead weights pulled her back. “What are you doing here?” she demanded in a hoarse whisper.

      “This is my home,” Daniel told her. “I brought you here after I found you in the park.”

      “How dare you!” It was hard to sound angry when she could hardly speak.

      “I had no choice, Megan. I couldn’t take you back to that apartment. The press had it staked out.”

      “Not here. Anywhere but here,” she croaked.

      “If you think about it, you’ll see that this is the best place. Who would ever think of looking for you with me?”

      She started to cough and could do nothing until the fit had subsided. When it was over, she lay back, drained, and looked at him helplessly.

      Daniel laid a gentle hand on her forehead. “You’ve got a feverish cold,” he said. “You stay here until you’re well.”

      “You’ve taken a lot for granted,” she said hoarsely.

      “What would you prefer, the hospital, where you’ll be stared at?” She shook her head weakly, beyond speech. “Don’t waste what little voice you’ve got left in abusing me,” he advised. “The doctor left you something to take. I’ll get breakfast and make you comfortable, then you must get some more sleep. The bathroom’s next door. Put this on.” He indicated a thick terry-cloth robe lying across a chair, and left the room.

      As soon as she got out of bed, her head swam. It took ten minutes to get into the robe and out of the room. The bathroom mirror showed her looking haggard, with large, feverish eyes, but it had been a long time since she’d cared what she looked like. Almost subliminally she noticed