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“That’s it, sugar. Just a little more.”
Slowly, Angelica’s lashes lifted from her cheeks, and she found herself looking into eyes so darkly blue they seemed like bottomless bits of sky.
“Cade?” she whispered.
“Yes,” Cade said. His gaze swept across her face. “How do you feel?”
Angelica moistened her lips as she considered the question. Her head pounded, her right arm ached, her hand felt as if someone had numbed it and then hung a fifty-pound weight from her fingertips.
‘‘Like I’ve been run over by a truck,” she said finally. “Everything hurts.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
She nodded. “I—there was a scorpion, and…”
A shudder racked her body. Cade cursed softly, put his arms around her and drew her close.
“The damned thing stung you, and it was all my fault. I didn’t get it in time. I was afraid it would get you if I moved too fast, but—”
“I should have been more careful,” Angelica whispered. “Everybody knows you have to look out for scorpions in this part of Texas.”
“Yeah, but scorpions aren’t supposed to climb pump jacks.”
Angelica drew back a little and looked at Cade. “Then, it was the scorpion’s fault,” she said, smiling slightly. “He was in a place he had no right to be.”
Cade laughed softly. “Now, why didn’t I think of that?” he said, and gathered her into his arms again. She closed her eyes, letting herself take comfort in the steady beat of the heart beneath her ear, in the warmth of the arms that held her, in the clean, male scent that filled her nostrils, and then she drew back.
“My—my hand?” she asked, her eyes on Cade’s.
He smiled. “The wound was nasty, but there won’t be any permanent damage.”
Angelica breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I’ve never been sure what a scorpion can really do to you. I mean, I’ve heard stories, but—”
“I know. I’ve seen quite a few stings and they’ve ranged from nothing worse than a bee sting to big-time trouble.” He reached out and stroked a tangle of damp copper curls from her forehead. “Thanks to Tom, we got you to the hospital in record time.”
Angelica looked around her, at the white-tiled walls, the curtain-draped doorway, the glass-fronted cabinet filled with shiny instruments. Needles, she thought, needles jabbing her…
She shuddered again.
“What is it?” Cade demanded. “Do you feel ill?”
“No, no, it’s not that.” A quick, embarrassed smile flashed across her face. “I’m a terrible coward about needles, and that case over there is full of them.”
He chuckled. “It’s probably just as well you were out cold, sugar. You’ve been poked and prodded and jabbed I don’t know how many times with everything from adrenaline to tetanus antitoxin to an antibiotic to some kind of painkiller—” He smiled. “The important thing is that you’re going to be fine.”
Angelica sighed and closed her eyes. “I can’t believe how exhausted I feel,” she murmured. “As if I’d been awake for days and days.”
“Stress,” Cade said softly, “that’s all it is, sugar. You need some sleep.”
“Mm,” she said, and sighed again.
Cade held her gently, one hand massaging her back, the other stroking her hair. He shut his eyes, inhaling the scent of it. Roses, he thought, she smelled of roses, even after all the dust and the sweat and the stink of this place.
His arms tightened around her and he turned his face just enough so his mouth was pressed against her temple. God, she felt so soft. So feminine.
So fragile.
He had to get her out of here. She was worn out; he could feel it in the way she lay in his arms. She needed to lie in a soft bed, not on this cold table. She needed to lie back against clean white sheets, to lie in his arms, to—
“Miss Gordon?”
Cade sprang back, although his hands still clasped Angelica’s shoulders. He turned to the doorway where a woman in a white trouser suit stood framed before the curtains, a questioning smile on her face.
“Yes,” Angelica said, “that’s-”
“Miss Gordon is resting,” Cade said. “May I help you?”
The woman ignored him. ‘’How are you feeling, Miss Gordon?”
“OK, I guess.”
“She’s exhausted,” Cade said, frowning.
The woman nodded. “I see.” She looked at Cade’s hands, still clasping Angelica’s shoulders, then at him. “If you wouldn’t mind… ?” He hesitated, then stepped back, and she took Angelica’s uninjured wrist between her fingers.
“What are you doing?” Cade said.
“I’m taking Miss Gordon’s pulse.”
“Obviously. But why? She’s already been examined.” He smiled tightly. “By a physician.”
The woman laughed. “Oh, I know that. But I’m here to examine her again.”
Angelica cleared her throat. “Cade, maybe you should wait outside. I mean—”
“For what reason? Miss Gordon has been through a lot the past couple of hours. I see no need to subject her to any more questions.”
The woman sighed. “I take it you’re Mr. Landon?”
Cade nodded. “Yes, that’s right.”
“The gentleman who rode roughshod over our admittance procedures.”
Cade’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed,” he said dryly.
“The admitting clerk was only doing her job, Mr. Landon. She has to ask questions.”
“And I’ll be glad to answer them,” he said, “but not when I’ve got a sick woman in my arms.”
“Cade?” Angelica said in a puzzled tone. “What’s she talking about? Was there a problem?”
“No problem at all,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. “I just took exception to being stopped at the door by a sycophant with a clipboard full of forms to sign when what you needed was medical attention.”
“Weil, thank you for that, but if there are forms that I need to fill out—”
“I’m not here to ask you to fill out forms, Miss Gordon,” the woman said. “I simply want to run some quick tests.’’
“Why?” Cade’s voice was sharp. “Is there reason to think something’s been overlooked?”
“No, Mr. Landon, not at all. It’s simply standard procedure.”
“Cade,” Angelica said quickly, “really, I appreciate your concern but I can speak for myself.”
“You see, Mr. Landon? Miss Gordon understands that I’ve no wish to bother her.”
“But you are bothering her. Can’t you see she’s in pain?”
Angelica gave a weak laugh. “Listen, you two,” she said, “if somebody would just take the time to ask my opinion—”
“Where is the doctor who examined Miss Gordon?” Cade said coldly. “If she needs to have her vital signs checked, I want a physician to do it.”
“Hey.” Angelica rose on one elbow
. “Did you hear what I said? Haven’t you forgotten—”
“I am a physician, Mr. Landon. I’m Dr. Broderick, chief of toxicology.”
“Oh.” Cade’s cheeks reddened but his grim look didn’t change. “Well, why didn’t you say so in the first place?”
“For God’s sake!” Angelica’s voice rang out sharply in the small room. Cade swung toward her and she shot him a look filled with indignation. “What is the matter with you? My hand was injured, not my head. I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself.”
Cade opened his mouth, then shut it. Of course, Angelica Gordon could speak for herself. She could more than speak for herself. She’d proved that to him half a dozen times already.
He looked from Angelica to the doctor. Jesus, he thought, and gave an inward groan. He was making an absolute ass of himself!
He smiled. At least, he tried to.
“Of course,” he said, very calmly, as if nothing unusual had happened. “I’ll, ah, I’ll just step outside and see about those forms.”
Damn, damn, damn! he thought as he marched out the door, what a performance.
All right. So he hated the red tape of bureaucracy. So he despised rules that were imposed for the sake of conformity, scorned people who got their kicks out of enforcing those rules. He knew all that about himself, had known those things for years.
But he was a little old to still be battling the demons of his childhood. He drew a deep breath, then let it out through his teeth. And, if he forced himself to be honest, what he felt about unnecessary rules had little to do with what had just happened, with what had been happening since he’d come storming through the doors of the hospital with Angelica in his arms.
It wasn’t officious clerks he was fighting, it was terror—the terror he’d felt when Angelica had collapsed out on the oil field. Holding her still body, he’d been struck by how frighteningly defenseless she’d seemed, like a beautiful rose suddenly stripped of its thorns.
He looked down the corridor to where the admitting clerk sat. He still wasn’t in the mood to deal with forms and stupid questions, not with a toxicologist in that room with Angelica. Was it really standard procedure, or had they come up with something they hadn’t thought of before?
