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this man.”
    â€œYes, but I mean—not to the sort of people one knows. It makes me nervous. I’m sure he’s a ruffian.”
    â€œHe is a ruffian who is out cold right now, and running a fever, as well. Surely we can manage to subdue him if he tries to attack us.”
    Miss Pennybaker took a look at Priscilla’s wide gray eyes, dancing with humor, and sniffed. “All right. Go on. Think I’m an old fuddy-duddy. But mark my words—”
    Priscilla chuckled. “Come now, Penny, how many times has the dashing hero been rendered unconscious and his sweetheart has had to nurse him back to health? Where is your romantic spirit?”
    â€œBut never in his—his altogether! Heroes are always gentlemen. This one looks much too rough.”
    â€œWe shall find out, I suppose, whether he’s a villain or a stalwart hero. But whichever he is, I think we need to see what we can do to make him well, don’t you? Bring the tincture of echinacea, too, will you?”
    Miss Pennybaker agreed, albeit reluctantly, and went into the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a bowl of water and supplies for cleaning a wound. Priscilla dipped a cloth in the water and carefully began to wash the back of the stranger’s scalp. The man winced and moaned at her ministrations, but he did not waken. Priscilla dampened a small square of cloth with several drops of the healing tincture, then gently applied it to the wound.
    â€œGoddamn it!” The man’s eyes flew open, and his hand wrapped around her wrist like a steel band.
    Priscilla froze, staring down into his eyes. They were bright green, the color of new leaves lightened by the sun, clear and penetrating, and it seemed to Priscilla as if they stabbed right through her into her soul. She sat utterly still; once more, he had left her bereft of words.
    His eyes narrowed. “Who the devil are you?” he snapped.
    â€œLet go of her!”
    Priscilla had forgotten about Miss Pennybaker’s presence until she shrieked out these words. Her eyes flew to the woman, who was standing now on the other sideof the man, the bowl of water held threateningly in her hand, her whole body so taut that she was trembling. The multitude of white cotton strips that decorated her head fairly quivered.
    The unknown man’s gaze went to Miss Pennybaker also, and his mouth dropped open in astonishment as he gazed at the apparition. “Holy hell! I’m in a madhouse!”
    His hand dropped from Priscilla’s wrist, and he surged to his feet. Miss Pennybaker backed up with a shriek, sloshing water everywhere, and Priscilla jumped up after him, crying, “No!” and reaching out to restrain him.
    His face immediately went pale, and he wavered. Then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he crumpled.
    This time Priscilla was quicker, and she wrapped her arms around him. He collapsed onto her, and for an instant she was enclosed in his heat and his smell, the hair-roughened skin of his chest pressed against her cheek, his head bending down over her and his arms around her. But she could not hold him up; her knees gave way beneath her, and together they slid to the ground.
    â€œPriscilla! Oh, my love, are you all right?” Miss Pennybaker put aside her weapon and rushed to them.
    â€œYes.” Priscilla tried to squirm out from beneath his weight. “Help get him off of me.”
    He was lying on top of her, pressing her against the floor, but it was less the feeling of the hard stone beneath her than the strange sensation of his body pressing into hers that disturbed her. There was a peculiar tingling all over her, and her loins were suddenly hot and melting. They were sensations she had never experienced before,and they were unnerving, even though they were at the same time strangely exciting.
    Miss Pennybaker grabbed the man’s arm and shoulder and tugged, while Priscilla pushed from beneath, and they managed to roll him