"They might not want company right now," Dan said quickly.

"Why?"

"Armando just got busted for cockfighting."

Winifred said something in the old Spanish that Carly had been struggling with in the archives. Then Winifred sighed and went to a cupboard across the room. She opened a drawer and came back to Dan with some limp bills in her hands.

"Put this where Lucia will find it," Winifred said. "Those no-good brothers of hers never leave any cash in the house."

Chapter 13

QUINTRELL RANCH

MONDAY NIGHT

THE KITCHEN DOOR SHUT BEHIND CARLY, LEAVING HER LITERALLY OUT IN THE COLD.

She shivered and clutched her computer closer as the night air bit through her thin clothes. Stars glittered thickly overhead.

"Is Lucia a Sandoval by birth or marriage?" Carly asked.

"Both. Third cousins, I think." He saw another shiver take Carly. Now that the storm had passed, it was much colder. "This is stupid," he said. "You don't have to come along with me. Winifred won't know. She just wanted a way to get rid of you without admitting how worn out she is."

"And you'll take any excuse handy to do the same," Carly said. "You lose. I'm coming. A family that's been living side by side with the Quintrells and Castillos for the last few hundred years, and marrying back and forth, is just what I need. Despite Winifred's bias, men and their personal histories are necessary to a family narration."

"Don't tell her that."

"Do I look stupid?" Then Carly thought of her wild curls and bare feet shoved into tennis shoes while she froze solid in the icy wind. "Never mind. I'm not. Besides, every time I bring up the necessity of men, she changes the subject."

Her teeth chattered.

"You wore sensible clothes to the funeral," Dan said impatient "Where are they?"

"In my room, and how do you know what I wore to the funeral?"

"Are you staying in the old house?"

"Y-yes."

He took her arm in a grip that was more impatient than polite. "Hurry up. You're freezing."

She didn't argue or try to pull away. The difference between the hothouse temperature of Sylvia's room and the frigid night was making Carly light-headed.

When they came to the big double doors of the old house, she took out the skeleton key. Her hand was shaking so much that Dan grabbed the key, stuck it in, and said, "It's unlocked."

"I locked it."

He didn't argue. He just shoved the key back into her hand, opened the door, and pushed her through to warmth. Without pausing he closed the door and automatically gave it just enough push so that the ancient lock mechanism settled into place.

"Do you live here?" Carly asked.

"No."

"Then how did you know the door is sticky?"

"Lucky guess."

Carly didn't believe it and was certain he wasn't going to talk about it. "You know," she said reasonably, "the more you don't answer questions, the more curious I get."

"The more questions I answer, the more you ask." He started down the hall toward the big guest room.

"Wrong way," she said. "I'm across the courtyard to the right."

His left eyebrow shot up. He wondered who had assigned Carly to what had once been the lowest housemaid's quarters.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing." Dan realized that his breath was visible even in the entry hall. It was warmer than the outside, but hardly comfortable. "Somebody forgot to turn up the heat."

"Doesn't matter to me." Carly pulled a key out of her back pocket and unlocked the door leading to the courtyard. "My room never was modernized."

"Meaning?"

"No connection to central heating. I use the corner fireplace to warm up." She turned the handle and leaned in. The door didn't open.

"Why did you lock it?" Dan asked.

"I didn't. I unlocked it." She frowned and turned the key the opposite way. The door opened. "At least I thought I did."

Dan looked at the deserted courtyard. Several sets of tracks crisscrossed the snow. Fresh tracks. He stopped being irritated at himself for being attracted to Carly and started thinking. Fast.

"Did you come back here after it stopped snowing?" he asked.

"If I had, I'd be wearing my coat. I just sprinted over there in light clothes so I wouldn't suffocate once I got there. It was snowing then, and about twenty degrees warmer. Why?"

Training that Dan had tried to leave behind clicked into focus. Adrenaline hummed, tuning his body for fight or flight. "Did someone come to clean your room while you were with Winifred?"

"I doubt it. Once I pried clean sheets and towels out of Alma, she vanished."

"You expecting company? A boyfriend?"

Carly put her hands on her hips. "You're real good at questions yourself."

"Be good at answers," he said, focusing on her.

The bleak intensity of his eyes chilled her as much as the night. "I'm not expecting company of any kind or maid service or Santa and his hustling elves. Does that cover it?"

"Wait here for me."

"Where are you going?"

"Your room."

"Then you'll need me. I know I locked my door."

Dan started to argue, then stopped. Unlike the people he was used to working with, Carly wasn't trained for self-defense or strategic offense. She'd probably faint at the sight of a gun.

He couldn't leave her alone.

Damn.

"Stay two steps behind me," he said in a low voice. "Don't talk. If I stop, you stop. If I say run, you run. If I say hit the floor, do it."

Her mouth opened, then shut without one word.

"No questions?" he said. "I'll savor the moment."

Before she could change her mind about questions, he turned and went down the long hallway. It would have been quicker to cross the frozen courtyard, but once outside, the bright moonlight made everything that moved into a target. He'd take the wide, shadowed gallery with its centuries-old Persian rugs, massive dark furniture, and gilt-framed paintings.

Carly stayed a precise two steps behind, hugging her computer close to her body. She couldn't believe how quiet Dan was. Her tennis shoes made more noise on the patches of bare tile than his boots did. He moved differently, now. No impatience. No vague limp. Just a kind of poised readiness that made the hair at her nape stir.

What did he do before he came back home?

The question was silent. The answer was equally silent, the noiseless stalk of a predator when prey is in sight.

He stopped.

She froze.

He gave a hand signal which meant Don't move.

At least she hoped that was what it meant, because she wasn't going to take one step closer to him while moonlight turned half his face to silver intensity and the other half to black mystery.

He flattened against the wall, took a quick look around the corner, and signaled for Carly to follow him again. She wondered if it was accident or intent that took his steps to every bit of shadow the hall offered. Then she all but laughed out loud. There was nothing accidental about the man right now. He was pure dark purpose.

At the next corner Dan repeated the stop, flatten, sneak a peek, and go on. As he moved from shadow to shadow, Carly started to tell him that her room was the next door on the right. Before she made a sound, she remembered how easily he'd closed the sticky outer door of the house. Obviously he was more familiar with the place than she was.

But he didn't know that she'd turned off the light in her room.

She touched his arm. He froze. She pointed to the ragged stripe of light showing around the warped door, then pointed to herself and shook her head.

He nodded. With a gentle, immovable grip he eased her down behind the only cover available, next to a thick mahogany buffet that was as old as the house itself. Scarred and scuffed, the buffet held old towels and cleaning rags these days rather than heavy silver and freshly pressed linen.