She was startled at the man's silent entry, ready to be alarmed if necessary, but not yet afraid. It was as though her thoughts waited for the cue he would presently give. Some instinct for safety made her cautious. She did not tell the free trader that her father and Fergus were from home.
He looked at her, appraisingly, from head to foot, in such a way that she felt his gaze had stripped her.
"You know what I want. You know what I'm going to get … some day," he purred in his slow, feline way.
She pushed from her mind a growing apprehension.
"Father and Fergus—if you want them—"
"Have I said I wanted them?" he asked. "They're out in the woods trappin'. I'm not lookin' for them. The two of us'll be company for each other."
"Go," she said, anger flaring at his insolence. "Go. You've no business here."
"I'm not here for business, but for pleasure, my dear."
The cold, fishy eyes in his white face gloated. Suddenly she wanted to scream and pushed back the desire scornfully. If she did, nobody would hear her. This had to be fought out one to one.
"Why didn't you knock?" she demanded.