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Eleven

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Martin spent a surprisingly peaceful night in Jamie and Sara’s blue guest bedroom. After she had finished working over his leg, he could hardly keep his eyes open. The painkiller she gave him finished the job.

A knock on the door turned him around; he kept one hand on the tall spindle of the four poster bed, his balance still more than a bit unsteady.

Sara peeked around the door, smiling when she saw him. “Good morning. I hardly expected you to be up already.”

“I slept well. Thank you, for tending to me last night.”

“May I?” She waved at his leg.

He nodded, and lowered himself to the edge of the bed. She had thoroughly examined his injury last night, so he didn’t expect to be showing it off again.

Sara knelt beside his leg, her fingers gentle as she poked the area around his scar. “How is the pain this morning?”

“Better.” Tolerable, which he had not expected.

“You need to spend less time on a windy field, and more time recuperating.”

“My own doctor gave me the same diagnosis.”

“Which you promptly ignored.” She shook her head, but a smile crossed her face when she looked at him. “I can prescribe something to keep the pain manageable, if you like.”

“I will be fine.” He refused to become dependent on a pill. Once he knew Maggie and Kit would be safe, once he was home, he would follow doctor’s orders and rest. Until then, he would, as Maggie said, suck it up.

Thought of her sent a wave of guilt through him, followed by regret that he had thrown those words at her. Words meant to anger her, have her stomp off and leave him behind. While he might have accomplished his objective, he may also have damaged the most important relationship in his life.

“Martin.” Sara’s quiet voice jerked him back to the moment. “Jamie is going to take you back to your dig site, but I want you to sleep here, out of that punishing wind.”

He started shaking his head halfway through her invitation. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to inconvenience—”

“Hardly that. Jamie didn’t tell you, but he took responsibility for you.”

Shock left him speechless for a long moment. “He vouched for me?”

“Your documentaries impressed him, and he did his own research on you. Jamie is a good man, and a better Inspector, but he tends to follow his instincts—sometimes to his detriment.” She stood, her blue eyes sober. “Please don’t disappoint him.”

Before he had the chance to respond, she walked out, closing the door behind her.

Martin lowered his head, humbled by Jamie’s gesture. That a stranger would step forward like that, when he had just met Martin; it humbled him.

Determined to find Sandra’s assailant, and clear his name, he grabbed his cane, using it to lever himself up.

Jamie met him in the short hallway. “Ready for breakfast, Professor? Sara makes a deadly delicious omelet. I am her humble bacon cooker.”

Martin smiled. “Both sound delicious. Thank you, for taking me in like this.”

“My pleasure, and my honor.” He took Martin’s arm and led him toward the back of the house. The enticing scent of bacon wafted out of the kitchen. “Come and sit, while I pour you some juice.”

Martin slid into a ladder back chair, relaxing for the first time since Sandra had recoiled from his assistance.

With Jamie on his side, he would find the person responsible, and clear his name.

Then he could get down to the business of figuring out who was after him, and the seal box.