Did those things matter, or was I overthinking us? Seeing her almost completely passed out and held prisoner in the arms of a stalker had done something to me. I'd wanted her back with a fury I'd never felt before. Had the police not been there, I have no doubt I would have torn him apart and buried his body on my property.
That wasn't all that happened, though, not for me. She was checked out at the hospital and given fluids and a counter-injection for what he'd put in her glass of champagne. Had she not thrown up when she did, recovery may have taken days longer. Had that been Stan Jarvis's intent, to keep her subdued until he was ready to live out his sick fantasy? My hands curled into fists at the idea of him touching any part of her.
I never wanted to feel that helpless again and vowed never to let anything happen to her. How would I keep that vow if I didn't keep her? For once, I understood exactly how Luna felt when her brain became, as she described it, scrambled eggs.
She was still sleeping but had a rough night, crying out often. I hated knowing that all I could do was hold her through it. If I loved her, I'd let her go. If I wasn't a selfish bastard, I would cut the bond that connected us.Heavy is the head that wears the crown.A bastardized quote from Shakespeare'sHenry IV.
“Artair?”
Luna had awakened.
“Right here.” I strode to her side of the bed.
She sighed and lay her head back down. “I have the worst headache.”
“The doctor gave me something to help with that.” I grabbed the pill bottle from the pocket of my tux and unscrewed the cap, handing her one with a bottle of water. “This should help. I'll order coffee, and I think you should eat something; your belly is empty. What would you like?”
She swallowed her pill and handed me back the water. “Do you think Mrs. McGregor could handle waffles with fruit and syrup. I'd like something a little sweet.”
“Whatever my princess wants,” I replied offhandedly.
Luna froze, and what little color she had drained from her face. “You said that to me last night.” I watched as she played back last night's events, every terrified moment reflected on her beautiful face. “The last thing I remember was you carrying me out of the Gallery. Did they catch him?”
“They did. For a man of his age, he sure had a lot of aliases. Don't worry about him, Luna; he'll be going away for a long time.”
She fluffed up her pillows and leaned against the headboard. “Is it really over?”
“It really is.”
Her mouth lifted in a small, but very happy smile. “Thank goodness. Daddy, can I have bacon too? Oh, and maybe some eggs? I'm hungrier than I realized.”
That, or with the relief of learning she was safe, she was able to let go of the stress, and her body was asking for nutrients.
“You relax while I order your food.”
Twenty minutes later, Rose carried in the tray and placed it on her lap. “We're so glad you're okay, Miss Luna; we were all so worried.” Rose had a thick Glaswegian accent that most people found hard to understand, but not Luna.
She smiled at Rose gratefully. “Aww, thanks, Rose, but you didn't have to worry about me; I had this big lug to protect me.”
I almost spit out my sip of coffee. Luna laughed, and Rose giggled nervously, obviously unsure how to react. I'd never been particularly close with my staff and was fascinated by the level of closeness Luna had gained in the few weeks she'd been here, something I hadn't accomplished in twelve years.
“Aye, well he is a big brawny man,” Rose replied tentatively. “I best get going.”
“Wait. Tell Mrs. McGregor that the breakfast was the best I've ever had.”
“How can you say that when you haven't even tried it yet?” Rose asked.
“Because,” Luna said, straightening and taking her first bite, “I just know.”
Rose smiled at her. “Aye, I'm sure you do. I'll tell her, sir.” She nodded at me and departed the room.
“Aren't you eating?”
“With all that food, I thought you'd share with me, lass.”
Luna gathered up a large forkful, making sure to include a little bit of everything on the plate, and placed the bite in my mouth. Her eyes glittered with amusement. “Well, is it the best you ever had?”
Did she mean the food? “Aye, the very best.”
