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She gnashed her teeth and didn’t answer.
“Gotta admit, you don’t sound much like a lady when you do.”
She permitted herself the luxury of glaring at him.
“That’s quite a screech you got there.”
He sounded amused. She contemplated dumping the soup over his head.
“I kind of like it when you let go,” he went on.
“Excuse me?” Pure shock halted the inclination. She slowly lowered the tray.
“Ever since my fever broke, you’ve been marching around here all controlled, doing what’s necessary, nothing more.”
She moved her hands to the soup bowl. “And your problem is?”
“I haven’t even gotten one good morning kiss.”
She tightened her grip. In the midst of her argument with herself that she’d only have to wash the bed linens if she chucked the tray at his arrogant head, she paused as what he said sank in. He was out of sorts because she hadn’t kissed him?
“Clint told me how you cauterized my wound yourself. I’m sorry I carried on as I did. Don’t rightly remember it, but I understand it wasn’t pretty.”
She slowly digested his words. She wondered if he knew she’d fainted like a baby afterwards. “Cauterizing a wound isn’t pleasant,” she agreed.
Red tinted his cheekbones. His gaze locked to something on the hearth. “I wouldn’t have carried on had I been conscious at the time. A man can’t help the way his mind betrays him when he’s out of his head with fever.”
She released her grip on the bowl. He was embarrassed because he’d cried out when she’d put a red hot knife to his flesh?
“Don’t imagine the scar’s none too pretty,” he added, still staring at the fire.
“Are you aware,” she asked, “how close you came to dying?”
At least she’d pulled his attention from the fire. His silver eyes skated around the vicinity of hers. “Understand it was close for a bit.”
“It was more than close.”
“That must have been scary for you.”
It had been more than scary. It had been soul-revealing. Terrifying. “I thought I was going to lose you.”
She couldn’t believe she’d let that sneak out. She’d avoided dealing with that revelation for a week. She’d been avoiding this for a week.
The hoarse whisper yanked Asa’s gaze to hers. In their green depths, he saw only a reflection of what she’d endured.
“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” he said. “Besides, even if you did lose me to the undertaker, McKinnely would step in and get those cattle to the railroad. Ranch’d be in the black and you’d be sitting pretty.”
The bowl of soup came at him so fast, he didn’t have time to duck. It half-hit the pillow and his face.
“How dare you?”
He wiped his eyes and plucked a piece of chicken out of the corner of one.
Elizabeth stood next to the bed, her chest rising and falling under the force of emotion. “How dare you suggest I wanted you dead!” She threw up her arms. “You come waltzing in here, ruin our deal, play on my honor, and then you lie there suggesting I’m so shallow, one little cry of pain and a new scar is going to drive me away?”
She grabbed the bread. “Not too long ago, you were accusing me of selling you short.” The bread came hurtling at his head. “Let me tell you, Mr. High and Mighty MacIntyre. You may be as handsome as the devil, but you’re a poor example of a husband.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You are! You’re worse than Brent.” The napkin came hurling his way. It landed in a gentle plop on his chest. “You’re worse than my father!”
He felt a small kernel of hope blossom. “How so?”
“At least they never bothered to try to make me love them.” She took one step toward him, then another. “They were content with my cooperation, but not you. You had to have it all.”
“Yup,” he agreed unrepentantly. He watched her carefully. One more step and he’d have her.
Her slap, when it landed on his arm, was gentle. Full of emotion, but guaranteed not to hurt. “You kept pushing for more and now make fun of me when you get it,” she whispered.
“I didn’t make fun of you, darlin’.”
“Yes, you did. You said I hadn’t kissed you.”
He caught her wrist and tugged. “You haven’t.”
She sat on the edge of the bed, stiff-backed and ready to fight now that she’d exposed herself. He touched her hands, then raised his hand to her cheek. “I thought maybe you thought I wasn’t useful to you anymore.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been lying here, trying to figure out why you haven’t been very wifely for the last few days.”
“I’ve been taking care of you!”
“Yeah, I know, and it’s been no different than if McKinnely had done the caring.”
“I beg to differ. McKinnely would have punched you.”
His chuckle sent pain though his ribs. “You threw soup.”
“And now I have to clean it up.” She made to get up.
