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allow her to plop gently back down on the floor. For some reason, he tightened his grip on her. Still off-balance and only partially standing, Kelly hurled through the air as if she was the end of the line in some macabre adult version of crack- the-whip.
    She felt her rear end hit the floor again and wondered briefly if she would ever regain even the slightest shreds of her dignity. She slid backwards and her head was filled with a loud cracking noise. Everything went black.
     

 
    Chapter Four
    Kelly knew that she couldn’t have been out for more than a few moments. She returned to consciousness as she was being lifted into the air. Awareness crept back in from the corners of her mind. Kelly felt strong arms cradling her against a chest that seemed a mile wide and hard as a rock. Betsy’s clear piping voice registered on Kelly’s senses from what seemed to be a great distance. “Daddy, what did you do?”
    “I’m not sure yet,” Harrison answered. His voice strained and tense.
    Damned if even through this crushing headache, Kelly thought, his voice didn’t set up vibrations Kelly couldn’t quite believe, especially pressed up against his chest this way. She cracked open one eyelid and peered up at Harrison’s somewhat ashen face. “Near as I can tell, you involved me in some kind of testosterone-induced male playground dispute and then threw me into a wall.”
    “It was a pillar.” Harrison glared down at her. “And it appar ently had no impact on your power of speech.”
    Kelly smiled weakly back. “Nothing ever does.”
    “I should have known,” Harrison snorted as he backed through the swinging doors to the kitchen. The sudden change in light from the dim hallway to the bright kitchen made Kelly wince and clamp her eyes shut. And so she heard, rather than saw, Dora Jenkins’ gasp.
    “What on earth happened?” the housekeeper asked.
    “An accident, Dora,” Harrison said impatiently. “Would you get me some wet cloths and some ice and then call Dr. McIntyre?”
    “Right away.”
    Kelly heard the bustle of Mrs. Jenkins’ apron and dress hurrying away. “No doctors,” she groaned.
    Harrison deposited Kelly gently on a kitchen chair. He peeled her fingers away from her face. “Someone needs to look at your head, Kelly. You blacked out. There could be concus sion, fracture, or worse.”
    A strangled whimper came from the direction of the door. Kelly made a tunnel with her hands to shield her eyes from the light and peered over to see Betsy hopping from foot to foot with anxiety. The little girl picked frantically at her sweater and her face was so screwed up with tension Kelly was amazed she could see straight.
    “It’s all right, Betsy,” she said. “I’m fine. Your father is just being an old worry wart.”
    “I am not a worry-wart,” he said to Kelly. “You need to see a doctor.”
    “I don’t want to see a doctor.” The loudness of her own voice made Kelly wince and clap her hands over her eyes again.
    Once again, she felt the hard masculine grasp of Harrison’s hands peeling her fingers back. He looked into her eyes, his own mirrors of concern and compassion. “Why don’t you want to see a doctor, Kelly?” he asked, his voice soft.
    “Because I can’t afford one,” she whispered back. “Especially not one who makes house calls to isolated islands.”
    “Dr. McIntyre lives over by the ferry landing. He can be here in less than half an hour. And as for the expense....” Harrison shrugged. “I’ll take care of it.”
    Kelly shook her head which served only to set the room swaying to a reggae beat and said, “I don’t want your charity, Harrison. My head is fine. I just need to lie down for a bit.”
    “It’s not charity. It’s a necessity,” he countered.
    Kelly heard the swish of Mrs. Jenkins’ apron and the clinking of ice. In a moment, a beautiful cooling sensation started at her throbbing head and spread down her neck.
    “Aaaah,” she sighed. “That’s