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Setting: Historical Scotland Pain shot through Sarah's leg. She winced and sat up. What happened? She looked around. Oh, yes ... She recognized where she was. Back in Scotland ... in D.K.'s bed. He wasn't in the room. That was probably best for now, though. He acted so differently in this time period. She wasn't quite sure what to make of him. She swung her legs off the mattress and stood up. "Oh!" Her ankle gave out and she collapsed to the floor. Now she knew where the pain had come from. She remembered ... Someone had grabbed her ankle and she'd fallen down the stairs. The bedroom door opened and D.K. entered. When he saw Sarah on the floor, he set the tray he was carrying down on the dresser and rushed over to her. "What happened? Ye shouldna be up." He scooped her into his arms and set her back on the bed. "Ye have a bad sprain, lass." He sat beside her and tested the tender flesh. Sarah winced. "Ouch!" She pulled her leg away from him. "Did you grab me and make me fall? If you did--" "No, I dinna grab ye. It was one of the customers." He studied her closely. "Why did ye try to run? Did I frighten ye earlier?" She blushed. "A little." He reached out to stroke her cheek, but let his hand drop before touching her. "I'm sorry, lass. I wouldna hurt ye." She bit her bottom lip. "I know. I mean, I guess I know that." D.K. did touch her this time. He lightly stroked her hair. "Sarah, I will take care of ye." A knock sounded at the door. With a frown on his face, he turned. "Come in." A buxom woman entered. From the way she was dressed, Sarah assumed she was one of the barmaids. "Yer needed downstairs, D.K." She gave Sarah a hard look, distrust clearly evident in her piercing green eyes. "All right." He turned back to Sarah and smiled gently. "I won't be long. Stay in bed. I wouldna want ye to injure yerself even more." Sarah nodded. With an irritated grunt, D.K. brushed past the barmaid and closed the door behind him. Sarah cocked an eyebrow at the woman, who hadn't moved an inch. Why did she look so hostile? She felt very uncomfortable and suddenly wished D.K. would return. At least he seemed genuinely concerned about her. The barmaid approached slowly. "So ... It dinna take ye long to find yer way inta his bed." "Excuse me?" "Ye heard what I said." The woman's eyes burned with barely contained rage. "Yer lookin' quite comfy, like yer here ta stay." "I hurt my ankle." "Of course ye did," she replied, her voice full of sarcasm. She grabbed Sarah's arm. "If ye truly be hurt, I would advise ye ta recover quickly. D.K. is mine, and I won't have some slip of a girl stealin' him away from me." Her fingers dug into Sarah's flesh. A sudden, unexpected anger flashed through Sarah. "Back off, lady." She wrenched her arm free. "I think D.K.'s man enough to make his own decisions as to whom he wants to be with." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Goodness! It wasn't like her to say such a thing. She certainly had no claim on D.K. But she didn't like this woman and couldn't help trying to take her down a peg. "He did. Six months ago." Sarah's brow furrowed. "He did what?" "He did make his decision, six months ago ...," a smug look crossed the woman's face, "... when he went and married me." |