“You were.” I kiss his chest over his heart. “You were with me.”
“Sleep, lass.” His voice has gone lower, emotion coating the words. “I’ll keep you safe. I swear it on my life.”
I close my eyes and drift off quickly. Over the next several hours I wake here and there. Hook is with me the first few times, his breathing steady as I snuggle against him. The next time, though, he’s gone. I want to get up and look for him, but sleep pulls me under again.
The next time I wake, Hook is standing over the table and setting out two plates as Cookson stumps in, a large platter of food in his hands.
My stomach growls.
“Glad ter hear you have your appetite.” Cookson smiles and places the platter on the table. Steam rises from it in tantalizing curls.
I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Glancing out the door, I find Smee giving me a dirty look. So, the usual.
Cookson gives me a little bow then leaves, closing the door behind him.
“That smells ridiculously good.” I go to stand, and my knees almost buckle.
Hook’s in front of me in half a second, his hands steadying me as his blue eyes meet mine. “Not too fast, lass. Take it easy. How’s your head?”
“I’m all right. I think the food is what I need.” With a silly lunge, I reach for it.
He laughs. “Come on, before you tear the ship apart.” He helps me to a chair and puts my napkin in my lap, then sits across from me and begins serving me.
Cookson has prepared a roasted chicken with vegetables and what looks like a healthy-size scoop of mashed potatoes. I can smell the garlic and almost taste the butter from here.
“Poor Cookson. You know how much he likes to fawn over making my plate for me.” I take my fork.
“Not as much as I do.” He cuts off a piece of juicy chicken and adds it to my plate, then scoops up even more vegetables.
I spear a purple carrot and pop it into my mouth. It melts, its salty and savory taste so good on my tongue that I moan.
Hook pours me a large cup of water and sits across from me.
“You can’t just sit here and watch me eat. That’s creepy.” I push the second plate over to him. “Get to it.”
He shakes his head. “Once you’re done, I’ll—”
“Oh, stop.” I take the plate and start adding vegetables to it.
“Fine, lass.” He pulls it from me and cuts himself a piece of the chicken, then tucks his napkin into his shirt in a way that makes me smile. “What?”
“Nothing.” I reach for the pitcher of water to pour him a glass, but when I lift it, my hand shakes.
He takes it from me quickly. “I’ve got it.”
Suddenly, the food doesn’t have the same appeal. I stare down at it.
“What?” He peers at me.
“Nothing.” I spear a piece of chicken and chew it slowly.
“Hey.” He reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Listen to me.”
I force myself to meet his gaze, even though I inwardly cringe when I remember what I look like now.
“This isn’t forever.” He squeezes my fingers. “You’re going to get strong again. I won’t accept anything less. You’ll get back what’s been lost. Don’t fret.”
“I kind of have to fret.” I sigh. “I can’t even lift a pitcher of water without getting the old lady shakes.”
