She searched his face, moved by the request. Touched that he wanted that…intimacy. But she wasn’t born yesterday. At the moment, he was using this intimacy as a distraction, and she wasn’t falling for it, regardless of his blue eyes. “Nice try. This isn’t a kissing moment.”
“You sure?” He pushed upward, aiming straight for her mouth.
“No!” She planted her hands on his chest before she realized how much that would hurt.
Breath whooshed out of his lungs, and he dropped back, wincing. Palming his chest.
“Serves you right,” she chided, despite the twinge of pain she felt at hurting him. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he grunted around a ragged breath. “Deserved that.”
“Where are your antibiotics?” she repeated, tossing the washcloth on the edge of the sink. “I’ll get them.” She reached for the doorknob.
“Gone.”
Leighton stopped. “Do what? You had a whole bottle.”
Owen shrugged. “Now, I don’t.”
“Did you take them all?”
He said nothing.
“What, did you lose those too?”
“Can we please let it go?”
“It’s not like I’m asking for life secrets here. Why won’t you tell me what happened to the antibiotics? Are you embarrassed that you lost them?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, then sliced his hand up. “I didn’t lose them.” He grabbed the knob and flung open the door. Stalked out.
“What? Then what is going on here?” she balked, bewildered. “Why are you being so obstinate about telling me the location of something you clearly need to keep your face from rotting off?”
He whirled on her. “I traded them, all right?”
“Traded?” She frowned, recoiling. “Traded with whom? For what?” Even as she asked it, she recalled him saying he’d had made a bargain with the vendor outside the clinic. The necklace… Her hand flew to the elephant charm.
He winced.
“Oh, Owen…”
“I’ve had stitches before,” he muttered. “Never got an infection. When I saw it on the table, I just really wanted you to have that. To remember…us.”
Moved beyond belief, she went to him. “You silly fool.” This time, before she followed through on the idea to hug him, she remembered the chest stitches. “Trust me,” she said, touching the side of his uninjured cheek. “I will never forget that night. Being saved by elephants…watching you nearly die…that kiss…”
A mischievous glint hit his blue eyes. “That memorable, huh?”
She was very much in danger of losing her heart to this man. “You’re adorable.” It was possibly the stupidest thing she could’ve said, and made her cringe.
He considered for a second, looking as if he might object, but then he shrugged. “I’ll take it.” And he also took a kiss, which she coiled into, albeit clumsily, afraid to again aggravate his stitches.
When had life been this good, this…full? Happy? It was as if one long, perpetual brooding storm had been her life…until Owen Metcalfe. And yet—was the storm not raging again? Threatening his plan to get her away?
Knocking came from the front porch of the tent.
Owen pivoted toward it, instinctively tucking her behind himself. “I’ll get it.” He tugged back the tent flap and found Rayan standing there.
The prince held up a tube of ointment. “His Highness said you needed this.”
