Page 76 of Under Arthur’s Protection

He shifted his weight but didn’t pull away. “I am relaxed.”

“You’re not.” I tore open an antiseptic wipe and started cleaning the wound.

As I worked, his gaze danced between the back door, the windows, and the hallway to the bedrooms. He didn’t flinch, but he also couldn’t keep still.

“You don’t like people doing things for you, do you?”

“I grew up with people doing things for me.” His sarcasm was back, the same as on the ferry when he’d talked about wanting more from life. “It’s my natural state.”

“Do you want to debate nature versus nurture?” I worked carefully, clearing the dried blood he hadn’t washed clean at the sink.

He scoffed. “Don’t get me started.”

I opened a gauze pad and pressed it over one end of the cut. “Hold this.”

He indulged my request while I got the tape ready.

The cut was half the length of his forearm but on the top, and it wasn’t terribly deep. It had made a mess of his shirt, and he definitely needed stitches, but if the guy who’d attacked him had sliced the softer side of his arm? Or gone deeper? We would have been sitting in a hospital, not this kitchen. How the man had continued fighting—god, how he’d driven a car for hours⁠—

My eyes blurred, and I blinked hard, then wiped my wrist across my cheek before tearing off more tape. I pressed it down, smoothing the edges against his skin, taking my time. The last thing he needed was his incompetent nurse making things worse. “I can wash your shirt, too, before the blood sets.”

“I don’t have anything else to wear.” No sarcasm. No bitterness, either.

“I promise not to look, if that helps.” I secured more gauze over the other end of the cut.

He smiled, then let out a quiet, short laugh. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

His phone buzzed on the table, and he stopped mid-sentence. He glanced over and tapped the screen. “Hey, Lance. You’re on speaker.”

“I know I was supposed to wait for your call,” Lance said in a rush, “but I’ve been losing my mind up here. Is Gwen okay?”

Not ‘What happened?’ Not ‘Where are you?’ No, he asked if I was okay.

“I’m fine, Lance.”

“Thank fuck.” He exhaled hard. “When Arthur said you were attacked, my brain went to some dark places.”

“We’re both in one piece,” Arthur said.

Lance and I had only known each other for a few months before we dated. We hadn’t been so much friends as people who ran into each other off and on. I’d been working on a contract at the Met, while he’d been on a temporary assignment of some sort he never explained. The attraction had been there from the get-go, but it was easy to fall for Lance Collins.

He’d had a smile for everyone and was quick to laugh. He was the kind of man who kept everything light, and dating him hadn’t changed that. Everything stayed light and casual through dinners, movies, and phone calls.

But the voice coming through Arthur’s phone was not light. “Don’t ever go dark on me again. Either of you.”

“Where are you?” Arthur asked.

“En route to Geneva. Gets us close enough to go wherever you need.”

“Good. Stay near the airport and get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Copy. Take care of her.”

“I will.” Arthur ended the call as I placed the last piece of tape on his arm.

“I wish they had butterfly bandages.” I pressed my palm around the edges of the dressing, ensuring the tape held. “You’ll probably need stitches.”

He put his hand on top of mine. “We’ll deal with it tomorrow, okay?”