“Yeah, I think you did,” I answer dazedly and I’m surprised I can talk at all.
All those cartoons where they lay there after being knocked down, while birds tweet and fly in a circle above them, now make perfect sense. It’s exactly how I feel. In fact, if I squint, I think I can see the little birds.
“Oh my god!” breathes Harry as he buries his face in his hands.
As soon as I can talk again. I’m going to tell him that it is okay. He was having a nightmare, it was an accident. I’ve been punched in the face before, by a delirious patient, this is a very similar situation and no big deal. I’m not as delicate as all that.
He peers down at me again and the sheer anguish in his stunning eyes takes my breath away. His gentle fingers take my chin and he carefully moves my face, examining me intently.
“Do you need the healer?” he asks.
His words hurt more than his punch. A stark reminder that I am no longer a healer. But I haven’t forgotten everything and I’m not bleeding to death. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of this injury myself.
I don’t say any of that. Instead, I just shake my head. Harry’s eyes fill with even more pain. He can tell I am upset. I should tell him it’s the healer thing, not the punch thing that has got me all emotional. I try to gather the words.
Suddenly he throws himself off of the bed and an anguished sob echoes around the room. He flees and the door slams shut behind him. The room feels colder without him. Somehow dimmer, as if he took the light with him.
My chest tightens. I yearn to go after him, to explain, to reassure and comfort. But Harry is a duke. And a powerful mage. Men like that, are brought up to never cry and to certainly never let anyone see them if they do. Not even their husbands.
He won’t want me to see his tears. It would savage his pride. As it is, I’m going to have to pretend that I didn’t hear his sob as he left. I can’t go to him now, I’ll only succeed in making him feel embarrassed and humiliated.
Poor Harry. And poor me. What a mess.
Tomorrow, when he has had a chance to resume his composure, replace that emotionless mask that we all wear, I will talk to him. I will tell him that I understand it was an accident. He was asleep and lost in a dark dream. I’m not upset about it. I got a bit emotional over not being a healer anymore. But it’s all good. Everything is fine. This incident is not the end of the world.
Gingerly I sit up. I don’t think I have concussion. Carefully I pad over to the mirror. It doesn’t look too bad. No broken skin, but my eye is already swelling. It’s going to look impressive in the morning. And it is starting to throb now.
Sighing, I pull the bell. I need some ice and a poultice.
What a night.
Chapter fifteen
MyplantocornerJem at lunch and ask discreet questions about Harry, is not going very well. I’m starving, and peeking into the lunchroom and seeing the luncheon meats, cucumber sandwiches and the fillet of salmon is torture. This is going to be the last time I’m going to be able to walk away. If he is not there next time I check, then sod it.
My stomach rumbles in agreement. My attempt to get to the bottom of Harry’s secrets is going to have to wait for another day. And that’s fine. None of this is going to be a quick fix. Discovering why Harry is so haunted and troubled is not going to give the key to fixing him. It’s merely going to be the first step. Once I understand why, I can figure out a way to help him.
Despite my good intentions, I can’t help feeling guilty for my nosey plan. It is an invasion of privacy, but then again, how can I help if I don’t know what is going on?
A heavy sigh escapes me. Maybe I should mind my own business and trust that Harry will tell me, if he wants me to know. But then men like Harry have been raised to take their troubles and secrets to the grave. I’m doing the right thing, I know I am.
I just need to wait a little longer, and then I can check the lunch room again. The staff will be clearing everything away soon. Jem is bound to make an appearance before too long. I’m sure the man eats.
I pace my sitting room for five whole minutes before dashing back to the lunchroom. As I peek through the door hinges, I see Jem heaping salmon on his plate. I have never seen a more wonderful sight. He is here! I can talk to him and I can finally eat.
“Good afternoon!” I call cheerily as I stroll in.
Jem looks up at me and nods in greeting. His gaze flicks to my bruised face. He doesn’t look shocked or surprised, and somehow I just know it isn’t because his brother is a brute. It’s because Harry told him. A spark of happiness ignites within me. Harry has someone to talk to. I wish it was me, but I’m glad he is not all alone in the world. One day I will earn his trust, but in the meantime he has Jem, and that makes me happy.
I grab a plate and start loading it with all the delicious-looking food. My mouth is watering. I hope my stomach doesn’t give an embarrassingly loud rumble.
“Lovely weather!” I gush, for something to say.
Jem glances at the window and the rain lashing it and the gray sky beyond. He raises an eyebrow. “For ducks.”
Oh damn it, what is wrong with me? How can I be messing this up already! Okay, I need to rally.
“Absolutely! Why should sunny days get all the love?”
