Her heart fluttered. “I see you are going to be a difficult patient.”
He groaned. “I’m sorry, Olivia. I’m not angry at you. Being bedridden and useless is the worst thing to happen to a fellow. Especially now when I need to find the man who shot me.”
“I know. But perhaps the constable will.”
“He won’t. He doesn’t know the woods like I do.”
“Then you must be patient.”
Watching the pain which he fought to hide marring his ruggedly handsome face, she decided not to put in her notice. Helpless, he was even more appealing, if that were possible. And he needed her. How could she contemplate leaving now?
She gathered up the roll of bandages, scissors, and the bottle of whiskey. “I’ll look in later. Perhaps a little meat broth at dinner.”
“Delicious,” he muttered through his teeth, but he was asleep before she left the room.
Chapter Sixteen
Acool handrested feather-light on Dominic’s forehead. He breathed in a flowery scent he recognized, and reached up to grasp the hand, but it had moved out of reach. He opened his eyes. Olivia stood beside the bed in a gown the color of apricots, far too attractive for a nurse. Sunshine flowed through the window, alighting on her glossy black locks. No cap. He smiled approvingly. “Olivia. Is it morning?”
“It’s midday. You’ve had a good sleep. There’s no evidence of fever.”
Jack came in with a tray.
Olivia stood aside. “Here is your luncheon, my lord.”
“I fancy a big slab of beef and a glass of burgundy. Good for the blood.”
“Chicken broth.” She bent over him and arranged the pillows behind his back as the footman placed the tray on his lap.
He wanted her to stay close to him, but of course, she didn’t. “Thank you, Jack.”
“You’re welcome, milord.” Jack looked cheerful as he left the room. Dominic took that as a sign he was rallying. A good meal would get him on his feet.
He stirred the pallid stuff with his spoon. “This looks like gruel.”
“Oh, would you prefer gruel?” Her innocent expression didn’t fool him. “I’ll ask Sam to make you some.”
He narrowed his eyes at her and took a sip, wincing as a sharp pain pierced his shoulder. The broth was tasty. “Not bad.”
“Sam is an excellent cook.”
“He is. Will you sit awhile and talk to me?”
“Until you finish your broth.” She sat on the chair by the bed. “I plan to visit Mary and the baby this afternoon.”
“Come and tell me later how they fare. It’s dull lying here. I will get up this afternoon.”
“Doctor Manners will call in a little while. You can ask him about moving around, but I doubt he’ll approve.”
He frowned. “It’s only a slight wound.”
“No gunshot is slight. Fortunately, there’s no damage to bones and arteries. But Doctor Manners says to treat such a wound with care.”
His eyes roamed her face. “Were you worried about me?”
“I was concerned, but you look much better. You might get up and sit in a chair tomorrow.”
He tightened his lips on a curse. “We shall see.”
