It had been two days since the last person had been pulled out of the rubble, and the old woman had died on her way to the hospital in Caracas. Out of the two stricken village's population of 4500 people, they'd only been able to save 722. Dealing with disappointment as well as the grieving families of the lost ones had been agonizing for every rescue worker on site. She couldn't let herself be too hopeful. The odds against finding anyone alive weren't that-

To hell with it. She would hope until hope was gone.

She headed for the jeep.

WHO WAS NICK GILROY? Her friend? Her lover?

Marrok's gaze followed Devon Brady until she disappeared from view in the jeep. She was a woman who a man wanted to keep on looking at. Not pretty. Her mouth was too wide, her nose turned up a little, and she had a sprinkling of freckles over her cheeks. Yet together, the small imperfections gave her face interest and character. Though she was definitely not at her best tonight. Her short, brown-blond hair was tousled and her khakis and shirt rumpled. She was tall and thin, but her shoulders were squared even though he knew she was tired. There had been circles of weariness beneath her wide-set blue eyes, but you'd never know it from the way she carried herself. She walked with strength and purpose, and she'd treated Ned with the same strength and determination… and gentleness.

Oh, yes, there had been a world of gentleness when her hand had touched Ned. He valued gentleness. He had seen too much of roughness and brutality lately. Not that she wasn't a tough cookie. He had believed her when she said she'd go after the man who'd shot Ned herself. Toughness and gentleness… They were qualities he always demanded in the guardians.

Guardian?

Yes, he realized he'd been speculating about the possibility of using Devon Brady as a guardian since he'd first met her. Use. He grimaced as he thought how she would hate that word and concept.