“Why did you bring me here?” Conrad tried to sit up.
“Do have a care,” Gigi said. “You could disturb your wound.”
She pressed on his shoulders, and to his surprise, he didn’t have the strength to resist her. He fell back against the pillows with a grunt.
“I’m fine—” he began.
“That refrain is getting tiresome, Godwin,” Lord Ethan said. “Given that it is categorically untrue. The reason you are here in my home is because my sister insisted upon it.”
“Someone needed to keep an eye on you,” Gigi cut in. “You were lucky to dodge the statue, but part of Mars’s helmet broke off and hit your head. Beneath that bandage, you’ve a cut on your temple and a lump the size of an egg. Luckily, that appears to be the extent of the damage. The physician says you’ve a hard head.”
“Speaking of a hard head, my sister insisted upon staying by your side.” Lord Ethan sounded irritated. “The rest of us had to take turns chaperoning her through the night.”
Gigi stayed with me…all night?
Seeing the smudges of exhaustion under her vivid eyes, Conrad felt a surge of emotion. He couldn’t recall the last time anyone treated him with such care—at least, anyone he didn’t employ to do so. Gigi had lost sleep over him, taken care of him, out of genuine concern.
She cares for me. I knew it.
Despite the megrim muddling his thoughts, he felt his chest expand…with wonder, maybe. Or joy. As he wasn’t well acquainted with either emotion, he couldn’t be sure. At the same time, he was aware of the humiliating stench of his disgrace and the weakness of his position. He did not like being indebted to anyone…least of all, a man who thought him unworthy of Gigi.
“I apologize for the inconvenience,” he said stiffly. “I’ll summon my servants to bring me home.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” Gigi said. “You are staying put. According to the physician, you oughtn’t move about for at least a couple of days. He said that recovery from a head injury can take unexpected turns, and fainting spells are not uncommon.”
“I have never fainted in my life,” Conrad scoffed.
Lord Ethan snorted. “How would you know if you’re unconscious? Which you were for several minutes after being knocked in the noggin.”
Conrad narrowed his eyes. “Being unconscious and fainting are two entirely different?—”
“For heaven’s sake, stop it.” Gigi shot to her feet. “Both of you.”
Conrad didn’t reply because her movements had rocked the mattress and set off waves of queasiness. He concentrated on breathing and not spewing his guts again.
“Ethan.” She glared at her brother. “Mr. Godwin nearly lost his life and is in his sickbed. You will cease baiting him, or I shall never speak to you again.”
“Would that I could be so lucky.” His lordship rolled his eyes but said nothing more.
“And you.”
Gigi turned to Conrad. While it was a cliché that women were beautiful when they were angry, in Gigi’s case, it was also true. She looked adorable while spitting mad. This led to the welcome discovery that while his head might not be in full working order, his other head was. When she wagged a finger at him, he had to subtly adjust the blanket to hide his burgeoning appreciation.
“You will cease being pigheaded,” she scolded. “You nearly lost your life and are in no shape to go anywhere. You are staying put until I say you are ready to go.”
Now he really did want to swive her. Wanted to pull her down into the bed and memorize the sweet concern in her eyes while he plowed her to an inch of their lives. Unfortunately, she was right: he was in a weakened state and could barely lift a finger.
“Fine, I’ll stay,” he said. “But I insist upon compensating your brother for the inconvenience.”
“I am hardly going to charge you room and board,” Lord Ethan grumbled.
“You should rest now.”
Gigi laid a hand on his cheek, and her touch felt so good that he relaxed. He felt groggy, as if he couldn’t keep his eyelids open another moment. Suddenly, he remembered that there was something he had to mention, something important. Something he ought to ask about… The thought dissolved in the wave of tiredness that crashed over him.
“I’ll be right as rain by tomorrow,” he mumbled.
“Sleep, my dearest. We’ll talk when you awake,” were the last words he heard before he went under.
