“If you truly thought that, you would not sound hopeful.”
Resigned, Morgan blew out a breath. She had him there. “I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t see the point of waking you because of it. I know how to fend for myself.”
“Yes, I am sure. All evidence to the contrary, I do not doubt it.”
Morgan’s mouth took on a sardonic twist. “You enjoyed saying that, didn’t you?”
“Perhaps a little.” Jane finished preparing the tea ball and set it in the pot. “I am sorry that you were injured, and I know that if I were not here you would manage on your own, but since I am here, I wish you would allow me to be useful to you.”
“You are asleep on your feet, Jane.”
“On two feet.” Her gaze moved to his leg that was stretched out and away from the table. “You should put that up.”
Morgan yanked one of the empty chairs closer and set his bandaged foot on the seat. “Satisfied?”
“I have annoyed you. I’m sorry. I will go.”
It was impossible for Morgan to reach Jane as she turned to leave, but he put out an arm anyway. “No,” he said. “Don’t.” When she paused but did not look at him, he added, “Please.”
She nodded faintly and sat.
“The truth is,” Morgan said, “I tend to forget about the pain when I’m around you.”
“If there is a compliment there, I am not finding it. If you are less attentive to your pain when I am around, it is because I annoy you.”
“You make it difficult for me to figure out if the right thing to do here is argue with you or let it be.” He observed the corners of her mouth edging upward, although she seemed to be trying hard to have it otherwise.
Jane said, “That certainly is a conundrum.”
A chuckle vibrated in Morgan’s throat. He knuckled the underside of his chin as he studied her from across the table. She was so tired that her eyelids were barely raised to half-mast, and the thick fan of her dark lashes almost obscured the color of her eyes. Her mouth was narrowly parted. The separation between her lips was like an invitation. Once again, the vision of him hobbling awkwardly and painfully toward her forced him to reject it.
“It’s rude to stare,” she said. “And you’ve done it twice.”
Morgan could have told her that he had done it a lot more than twice, but he supposed she was only referring to this brief encounter in the kitchen. “I’ll beg your pardon if you like, but it will probably happen again. I don’t mean anything by it.”
Jane averted her eyes. “No,” she said softly. “Of course you don’t.”
Morgan could not see her hands. He wondered if she was twisting them in her lap under the table. He did not understand the shift in her mood, the sudden avoidance. She usually met him head-on. It seemed out of character for her to turn away.
It was a relief to Morgan when the kettle started to jump. He did not have to say anything, and it gave Jane something to do. He made sure she did not surprise him in the act of watching her while the tea steeped and she set out cups. She poured and added a dollop of honey to her cup. He added three drops of laudanum to his.
Jane sat. “It occurs to me that I have crossed a line. Several times, in fact.”
“How’s that?”
“Being your wife and acting as if I’m your mother.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a wife.”
“But you’ve had a mother.”
Morgan did not correct her assumption. It was true to a point. He blew on his tea before he drank.
Jane went on. “You railed some this afternoon about not needing to be coddled. I think I understand it better now.”
“What does that mean? You’ll nag me instead of nipping at my heels? And don’t ask me which is being my wife and which is acting like the mother. I sure as hell don’t know.”
Jane stirred her tea. Her mien was thoughtful.
