feeling? Marcus and I have been very worried about you, you know."
All Zach managed to get out between mouthfuls was an inarticulate grunt. He knew it was probably only because she was tense, but if she shoved much more broth at him, he was going to strangle. He thought about grabbing her hand before she dipped up more, but doubted he would be quick enough. His body felt oddly disconnected from his brain.
"For a while, I had begun to think you'd stay unconscious forever."
The spoon filled his mouth again. Amazingly enough, Zach was starting to feel full. To ward off another attack, he clamped his lips closed and let his eyes drift shut. The spoon didn't touch his lips again, so he guessed she got the hint. After a moment, he tested the water by unclenching his teeth enough to say, "Marcus? He was here?"
"From the first. He insisted he be here to—"
Her hesitation made him curious, and he lifted his lashes. "To what?"
"To care for your personal needs."
Zach let his eyes drift closed again. "I'll have to give that man a raise."
He heard her set the mug back on the table. The shift of her bottom tugged on the sheet, and he winced. When she sat back, her hip pressed against him. She grew still. Zach felt her warmth, and her sudden awareness of him.
So weak he doubted he could stand, he was more than a little amazed that he was equally aware of her. Of her slightness. Of her softness. And of her scent. This morning she smelled of roses, freshly baked bread, and just a trace of vanilla. The kind of woman a man longed to taste, and savor.
He lifted his lashes again and looked into her startled brown eyes. The touch of her hip against his side seemed to burn through the sheet.
She shot to her feet. "You didn't eat much."
And not any of what he really wanted to taste. "I feel like I overdid."
She bent to retrieve the mug. "I'll bring more in a couple of hours," she said nervously. "Your stomach has probably shrunk."
The distaste she felt for him was so obvious that Zach felt heat rise up his neck. More the fool he for thinking an attractive woman like Kate Blakely might give a man like him a passing glance. He splayed his hand over his chest and forced a smile, determined not to show how that hurt.
So painfully reminded of his own scars, he suddenly recalled Miranda's. Because he needed to say something, anything, to smooth over the moment, he asked, "How did your daughter get her hand so badly burned?"
At the question, Kate gave a start. Her slender fingers lost their grip on the mug. Before either of them could react, the porcelain hit the plank floor with a resounding crash and shattered in a dozen different directions. Kate gasped and stepped back, brushing ineffectually at the splatters on her skirt.
"Confound it."
"Damn." Afraid that the shards might have cut her, Zach forgot all about his legs and shoved up on an elbow.
"Are you all right?"
The room went into a spin. Zach grabbed a handful of sheet to steady himself, afraid he might pitch headfirst onto the floor. Kate caught his arm.
"Mr. McGovern, please…"
Zach fell back against the pillow, panting as though he had run a race. "Shit." He closed his eyes to make the spinning stop. "I've never been this weak in my entire life."
"You nearly died. It's going to take a few days."
"Are you cut?"
"No, I'm fine." She made an exasperated little sound. "Lands, what a mess. Can I trust you to lie still while I clean it up?"
Zach sighed. "I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a few minutes."
He heard her bustle from the room. Seconds later, she returned, broom in hand. He was too exhausted to keep his eyes open once she began sweeping.
"This broom is useless." Porcelain chinked. "I suppose I'll have to buy another. I ruined my good one."
Zach was too weary to ask how. A few minutes later, even though he didn't hear her leave the room, he noticed the absence of her scent and knew she was gone. As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was that she
All Zach managed to get out between mouthfuls was an inarticulate grunt. He knew it was probably only because she was tense, but if she shoved much more broth at him, he was going to strangle. He thought about grabbing her hand before she dipped up more, but doubted he would be quick enough. His body felt oddly disconnected from his brain.
"For a while, I had begun to think you'd stay unconscious forever."
The spoon filled his mouth again. Amazingly enough, Zach was starting to feel full. To ward off another attack, he clamped his lips closed and let his eyes drift shut. The spoon didn't touch his lips again, so he guessed she got the hint. After a moment, he tested the water by unclenching his teeth enough to say, "Marcus? He was here?"
"From the first. He insisted he be here to—"
Her hesitation made him curious, and he lifted his lashes. "To what?"
"To care for your personal needs."
Zach let his eyes drift closed again. "I'll have to give that man a raise."
He heard her set the mug back on the table. The shift of her bottom tugged on the sheet, and he winced. When she sat back, her hip pressed against him. She grew still. Zach felt her warmth, and her sudden awareness of him.
So weak he doubted he could stand, he was more than a little amazed that he was equally aware of her. Of her slightness. Of her softness. And of her scent. This morning she smelled of roses, freshly baked bread, and just a trace of vanilla. The kind of woman a man longed to taste, and savor.
He lifted his lashes again and looked into her startled brown eyes. The touch of her hip against his side seemed to burn through the sheet.
She shot to her feet. "You didn't eat much."
And not any of what he really wanted to taste. "I feel like I overdid."
She bent to retrieve the mug. "I'll bring more in a couple of hours," she said nervously. "Your stomach has probably shrunk."
The distaste she felt for him was so obvious that Zach felt heat rise up his neck. More the fool he for thinking an attractive woman like Kate Blakely might give a man like him a passing glance. He splayed his hand over his chest and forced a smile, determined not to show how that hurt.
So painfully reminded of his own scars, he suddenly recalled Miranda's. Because he needed to say something, anything, to smooth over the moment, he asked, "How did your daughter get her hand so badly burned?"
At the question, Kate gave a start. Her slender fingers lost their grip on the mug. Before either of them could react, the porcelain hit the plank floor with a resounding crash and shattered in a dozen different directions. Kate gasped and stepped back, brushing ineffectually at the splatters on her skirt.
"Confound it."
"Damn." Afraid that the shards might have cut her, Zach forgot all about his legs and shoved up on an elbow.
"Are you all right?"
The room went into a spin. Zach grabbed a handful of sheet to steady himself, afraid he might pitch headfirst onto the floor. Kate caught his arm.
"Mr. McGovern, please…"
Zach fell back against the pillow, panting as though he had run a race. "Shit." He closed his eyes to make the spinning stop. "I've never been this weak in my entire life."
"You nearly died. It's going to take a few days."
"Are you cut?"
"No, I'm fine." She made an exasperated little sound. "Lands, what a mess. Can I trust you to lie still while I clean it up?"
Zach sighed. "I don't think I'll be going anywhere for a few minutes."
He heard her bustle from the room. Seconds later, she returned, broom in hand. He was too exhausted to keep his eyes open once she began sweeping.
"This broom is useless." Porcelain chinked. "I suppose I'll have to buy another. I ruined my good one."
Zach was too weary to ask how. A few minutes later, even though he didn't hear her leave the room, he noticed the absence of her scent and knew she was gone. As he drifted off to sleep, his last thought was that she
Similar Books
