“I’m sorry, Bonnie. I shouldnae have told ye all that.”
“No,” she rasped. “I want…to know.”
Dear God, what if her brain had been injured or something?
He took a deep breath, his eyes studying her, before finally nodding. “Aye, if I were in yer place, I’d want to ken as well. Are ye seeing alright? Hearing alright?”
She began to nod but remembered in time to stop herself. Instead, she whispered, “Yes, I think so.”
“Good. The doctors think the burns were all superficial, but ye’ve lost most of yer hair, and what was left they had to cut away to treat ye.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, love. Yer bonnet, then yer hair, seemed to trap the flames close to yer skin.”
That explained the intense pain in her scalp at least. But…it didn’t sound insurmountable. She knew Lyon’s hair didn’t grow easily on the burn scars on his cheek. Would she never be able to grow hair on her head again?
She was surprised to find tears pricking at her eyelids.
Why did she care? She’d never been particularly attached to her hair—although it had been attached to her! Oh dear, the laudanum was making her daft.
“Och, dinnae cry, lass,” he whispered again, apparently seeing the tears.
She blinked and squeezed his hand. “The house?”
It seemed to take him a moment to understand what she was asking, but then his expression cleared. “Och aye, the publishing house. It’s…” He shook his head and exhaled. “I’m doing plenty of apologizing, but I’m sorry for that too, Bonnie. The building is gone, the presses are just hunks of ruin now. Mr. McCaffey said they were insured?”
Her dream was…gone. Grimm and Sons publishing was gone.
“Yes,” she croaked. There’d been insurance, but that meant finding new presses to buy, and a new building, and the supplies.
Right now, the pounding in her head made it all seem so hopeless.
The tears were threatening again, so she tried to focus on the amazing things Lyon had said. “You…saved me?”
“Of course,” he said simply, shrugging. “I kenned I couldnae lose ye, Bonnie, so I went after ye. But I’m just sorry I wasnae faster. By the time I found ye, in the smoke and confusion and flames, ye were almost too far gone.”
Her eyes cut to the manuscript on the bedside table. “My book?”
He nodded, one corner of his lips curling upward. “Aye, ye found it, love. Ye’d found the case, but I guess the smoke overcame ye, because I found ye lying on the floor, wrapped around it.”
On fire.
She remembered the coughing, the smoke burning her eyes and her lungs,knowingshe’d never be able to take in a full breath again. She remembered the triumph of finally grasping the case with her life’s work in it, but even as she did so, cursing herself for her stupidity at giving up hernewdream.
Her dream of a life with Lyon.
“I am sorry,” she whispered, trying to memorize the feel of his hand in hers.
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat, love,” he whispered, lifting her fingers again to brush his lips across them.
“No, I am…” God help her, her voice was so weak. “Sorry I tried to leave you.”
The way his lips curled sadly, wryly, told her he remembered what she’d said to him about Rose. Lyon lifted one hand and gently brushed his fingertips across her cheek, resting them on her jaw.
“Ye tried to leave me, Bonnie, but I went after ye. And if ye try to leave me again, I’ll respect yer decision, but ye damn well ought to ken I’ll go after ye again and again.”
Oh.
“Because we belong together?” she rasped, her throat aching now from the effort of speaking.
His smile softened. “Because we belong together. Do ye want some water?”
