I braced myself for the fall. I gritted my teeth against more agony.
But I didn’t tumble to the travertine floor.
I landed in strong arms.
And the only thing that registered was shock.
The arms weren’t cold.
But hot.
* * * * *
I came to being placed gently on my stomach.
Whatever I lay upon was soft as a cloud and smelled just as fresh.
I snuggled deeper into the fluffiness, wishing for oblivion once again, but the agonizing pain from my shredded back wouldn’t let me fade.
My hands balled the sheets beneath me as I struggled to stay still and not squirm.
It hurts. Crap, it hurts.
I would’ve murdered for a painkiller—something to dull the mind-numbing agony.
A cool hand pressed against my naked behind, holding me against the mattress.
My mattress?
Where am I?
I couldn’t tell without raising my eyes. I would have to tense my spine to look, and no way in hell was I moving.
“Stay still,” Jethro ordered, his voice calm but lacking the usual icy edge.
I froze, just waiting for more torture or horrible mind games. I was at my weakest, most vulnerable. I had no defence—mental or physical—if he decided to hurt me more.
His touch drifted over a particularly violent lash mark.
I hissed, biting my lip.
I wanted to moan—to see if vocalizing the agony would help release it. Coupled with the cuts on my feet from running and my bruises from vertigo, I’d never been so banged up.
Vaughn would kill him for this. My brother could never stand to see me hurt.
The bed shifted as Jethro disappeared. Vaguely, the sound of a tap being turned on and the groan of old pipes expanding with water drifted to my ears.
I didn’t know how much time passed; I drifted in and out of pain, wishing I could transplant a pair of wings from the stuffed birds around the room and fly away.
Then the mattress dipped again, my skin crackling with awareness as Jethro hovered beside me.
Something clanked onto the bedside table, smelling sharply of antiseptic.
I flinched, turning my head to see what it was.
At least we have drugs to stop infection. Back in the 1400s they wouldn’t have been so lucky.
Jethro’s fingers landed on my hair, stroking softly. “I’m going to fix you. Don’t move.”
