Page 46 of Give Him a Chance

“I’m fine,” he said reflexively.Never admit weakness. Never admit injury.

But Lucy was stepping toward him now, hands outstretched, and it was so exactly what he had wanted that for a moment, Bernard lost his head and outstretched his arms…

Lucy batted away his hands and placed one of her own on his shoulder. “Does it hurt? They didn’t—didn’t knife you in the back, or anything, the rogues?”

Bernard stifled a laugh. Of course, for Lucy, this was all very storybook. It was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. For him… Well. He’d enjoyed the quiet at the Lindow townhouse for more than one reason.

“No, no knives,” he said quietly. “A few fists, an iron bar, but that was it.”

“You’re bleeding,” Lucy said matter-of-factly as she stepped around him.

Bernard turned instinctively, which was nonsensical. He couldn’t see on the back of his head. “Where?”

“You dolt, hold still—there. You feel it?”

He could feel it now. That was, he could feel where Lucy’s gentle fingers were slightly pressing on the back of his head on the right.

Damn the man. That iron bar had clearly cut the skin. That was another scar to add to the ever-expanding list.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” Lucy said decidedly, slipping her hand around his arm and tugging him forward. “We need to get you cleaned up. That looks nasty.”

It did not hurt, or perhaps Bernard could no longer feel pain. Not with Lucy pressed up against his side, her hand in his arm, her presence a balm he had never reveled in before.

Perhaps he was delirious. Perhaps he had been hit on the head harder than he had thought, for before he could stop himself, words were pouring from his lips.

“You’re lovely, you know?”

“Yes,” said Lucy, her cheeks pinking as they left the alleyway and turned onto the street.

“No, really lovely,” said Bernard, staring at her instead of where they were going. Such gorgeous hair, such a delicate mouth—

“Come on, almost there,” said Lucy in a bracing manner.

Was she holding him up? No, that couldn’t have been. He was a strong man—very strong. The strongest!

Bernard grinned lazily as they turned a corner onto her street. “Lovely Lucy. My lovely Lucy.”

“You might want to cease speaking such nonsense when we get in,” Lucy said darkly, though with a little puff in her voice.

Were they walking too fast? And why was the world tilting, anyway? Bernard could not understand it. He was certainly walking upright, had never walked more upright in his life, always been upright, always would be upright, upright was the very best—

“Bernard!”

All of a sudden, the disobliging world had tipped to its side.Most inconvenient, Bernard thought hazily as the world went a step further and blurred.Dashed inconvenient. Maybe if he just shut his eyes…

When he opened them, the world was the right way round. It was not blurred. But it was also now a bed.

“Rest, and plenty of broth, and keep an eye on that bandage,” a voice was saying from a long way away. “And send for me if he starts to speak nonsense again.”

“I shall try to tell what is regular nonsense and what is illness nonsense,” came Lucy’s voice, the laughter in her tones evident even from here.

Bernard blinked. Where was he?

The bedchamber came into focus. It was his bedchamber—at least, the room the Chances had kindly given him for hisindefinite stay. He was in bed, he was in a set of nightclothes that were not his own, and his head hurt.

Bernard raised a hand to his head.

“Do not touch that!” Lucy strode across the bedchamber, snatched his hand, and forced it to his side.