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“I watch,” the Chinese girl said. “You rest?”
Yes. Winifred realized suddenly how short of breath she was. She rose, then had to grab for Yan Li’s arm to steady herself. Her legs had turned to mush.
“I think I will go upstairs and lie down for a few minutes.” Yan Li nodded and crouched beside Rosemarie to offer the doll again.
Winifred made it as far as the staircase, but then her legs began to shake. She felt dizzy and suddenly had to grab onto the banister. She leaned over the polished wood and tried to catch her breath and heard the front door open behind her.
“Winifred! What the hell...” Then Zane’s strong hands were at her waist.
“I—I got tired all of a sudden.”
“That’s not surprising,” he said, his voice stern. “You’re not ready to get up.”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “I am ready. I just need a little time to—”
“You most certainly are not ready. I can see you’re going to be a difficult patient.”
She sucked in a breath. “And I can see you are going to be a difficult doctor.”
He laughed at that. “I am, yes.”
“Oh, Zane, let me try. I’m so tired of being sick.” She straightened and set her foot on the first stair step. She tried, she really tried to heave her body up just that one four-inch step, but she couldn’t manage it. Once again she leaned against the banister, gasping for air.
“That’s it,” Zane snapped. He hauled her up into his arms and strode up the stairs.
“Whoever thought climbing a single step would be so tiring?” she said against his neck.
He elbowed her door open. “Your doctor,” he said shortly. “Who’s seen enough pneumonia patients to know.”
He laid her on the still unmade bed. “Now, close your eyes and think restful thoughts.”
“Did anyone ever tell you that you are bossy as an old-maid schoolteacher?”
“Many times. I’m going to remove your shoes. And,” he said after an awkward pause, “your skirt and your—”
“You will do no such thing!”
He laughed again. “It’s a bit late for maidenly modesty, Winifred. After all, I’ve taken off your—”
“Don’t say it.” She rose up on one elbow. “It’s positively scandalous to think that...” Her voice trailed off.
Zane pressed her back down onto the pillow. “Winifred, listen to me. I’m a doctor. I’ve seen hundreds of women unclothed.”
“Yes, but did you unclothe them?”
He chuckled low in his throat. “Some, yes.”
“How did you ever face them afterwards?”
“Like I’m facing you,” he answered. “Good God, don’t you remember that night you were so sick? No, apparently not. Winifred, sometimes you’re more of a child than Celeste ever was.”
“A child?” Now she was not just embarrassed, she was outraged. “A child?”
“I meant to say virginal,” he amended.
Instantly she was up on her elbow again. “How do you know I am a—” She clapped her hand over her mouth and Zane smothered a grin.
“You mean,” he said, his voice warmer than he might have liked, “your Professor—what was his name? Bassoon? That you and he, picnicking by the river on a warm summer afternoon, did not—?”
“Most certainly not,” she snapped. “Herman Beher and I are just friends.”
Zane laid his hand on her forehead to check for fever. “You and I are ‘just friends,’ Winifred. That doesn’t preclude—I mean...”
She gazed up at him, her blue-green eyes widening. “Doesn’t preclude what?”
“You have no fever,” he said flatly.
“Doesn’t preclude what?” she pursued. She waited, unblinking, for an answer.
Winifred, Zane acknowledged with an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, was as unlike Celeste as kittens were from cheetahs. Cheetahs chased their prey until it dropped.
“Doesn’t preclude what?” she asked again.
Oh, for heaven’s sake. “Doesn’t preclude desire.”
“Desire,” she said, her voice tentative, as if weighing the word.
“Sexual desire, dammit.” There, he’d said it. It had been on his mind for months; it was a relief to finally get it off his chest.
“Oh.”
There was a long, pregnant silence. Zane’s body heated in a long, slow dance he hadn’t felt since...since his marriage. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
