He looked so small and alone in the bed with his leg wrapped in cloth that it was easy--for just a moment--to imagine him to be something other than the cold-hearted man that Piper had seen. She covered him up gently and sat down to keep her watch.

She had been watching and taking care of Raoul--she had just learned his name--for the long week since the beating he had taken. It was a hard task; even while unconscious and feverish, Raoul still managed to put up a good fight. Whenever she wiped his hot forehead with a cool rag, his violent spasms would scare her. When she unwrapped his bandage to give him new dressing, he would shake and quiver like a fish out of water. Piper leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes. It had been a very long week.

She was unaware she had fallen asleep until her head dropped onto her chest and she jolted awake. Shaking herself into the land of the waking, she found herself staring into a pair of dark eyes. Blushing, she stood and began needlessly rearranging the bedspread.

"Good morning," she said to Raoul. He nodded to her, like a king graciously allowing a peasant to stand in their presence.

There was a long silence and Piper poured herself a cup of tea to steady her nerves. She took a long sip and calmed her beating heart.

"Is there any particular reason why I am in your bed?" Raoul asked, his voice carefully void of any expression. Piper took another sip before answering.

"I was caring for you," she said, turning to look at him. Something flashed across his eyes then, so quickly that Piper couldn't have been sure she saw anything to begin with.

"I do not need caring for," he said, his voice unnecessarily angry.

"Do you remember nothing?" Piper asked, sitting down on the very edge of the bed, balancing her teacup neatly on her lap. He shifted to move farther away from her. The set of his mouth said he did remember--vividly.

"Your concern is misplaced," he said suddenly, glaring at her. "I do not need your help."

"Concern is only misplaced when it is absent," Piper said.

"I would rather have none of your concern at all!" he said, his voice rising steadily.

"Are you too proud to accept my help?"

"I do not need it!"

Piper paused for a moment and then laughed softly. Raoul stared at her.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You," she said gently. "I am not at all afraid of you right now."

Raoul watched as she stood up to stoke the fire. She moved with a fluidity that reminded him of a pure mountain stream, cascading gently to the valley below. In the firelight, she could almost have been called beautiful with the light shining off her hair, but he forced the thoughts out of his mind. She hated him, even if she wasn't afraid anymore.

"You would be wise to be frightened of me," he said. "There are things about me you cannot even begin to fathom."

"I know you are a werewolf," she said quietly and he started. She turned to look at him with sorrowful grey eyes.

"Every night I watched you transform to the huge grey wolf my father saw," she said, "and every morning I watched you become a man again."

His next words flew out in an embarrassing rush. "And yet you are not afraid of me?"

"I am only afraid of what I do not know or understand."

"You claim to understand me?"

"No. But I know, now."

He was bewildered. This girl was far more than he had bargained for. When he had asked the man to bring one of his daughters, he had been expecting a demure, bashful creature with hardly an ounce of sense or wits about her. True, this girl was bashful but there was nothing demure or witless in her manner. He could feel an unmistakable strength in her and she spoke with quiet confidence ... quite unlike when she had first arrived. What had happened?

"Go to sleep," she said. "You are still healing."

He attempted to glare at her but found it quite impossible and obediently closed his eyes.

"My name is Piper," she said softly in his ear and then he fell into the blissful unthinking world of sleep.