“Sure you are.”
Her gaze moved over my face as if she were not entirely sure I was real. “I didn’t think you would come.”
I brushed my thumb across the back of her hand. “I’ll always come for you.” Whether or not we were together, that much would always be true. “I’ll always be here.” The pounding onthe door continued. “Peter’s here too,” I added grudgingly when Laurel’s gaze flicked toward the sound.
“I can hear that,” she said.
She weakly turned her head to look past me. I followed her gaze and saw Peter’s face pressed near the grimy window. His expression was twisted in anger, and water trickled from the hair plastered to his forehead. He jabbed a finger at me, then gestured for me to come outside. Droplets splattered against the glass as he waved his arms.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I wanted to kiss Laurel in front of him. The desire was immediate, irrational, and embarrassingly strong. I wanted Peter to know that I was not simply some old relic from Laurel’s past. I wanted him to know she loved me. I wanted him to know that I was the one who had been there when she woke and told me I made her feel safe.
I contented myself with lifting Laurel’s hand to my lips, then kept my eyes on Peter as I kissed her knuckles.
It was petty. I knew it was petty, but I did it anyway. Peter’s mouth fell open, and then he disappeared from the window.
“You’re trying to mark me as your territory, aren’t you?” Laurel murmured. “Men are so possessive. You don’t own me, remember?”
“I think you’ve made that quite clear.”
Laurel smiled. The small expression cost her more energy than it should have. Her eyes closed, and I saw the muscles in her neck tighten as she clamped her jaw against pain. My gaze dropped to her injured abdomen before I could stop it. The skin around the wounds was inflamed, and the sight made dread settle low in my stomach. I had seen battlefield injuries turn dangerous before.
“It looks bad, doesn’t it?”
My eyes snapped back to Laurel’s face. She had opened her eyes and was watching me intently.
“No one will tell me,” she said. “But I know.”
I considered lying, but Laurel would see through it in an instant.
“Yeah,” I said. “It looks bad, but you can handle it.”
Her mouth tightened. “I never said I couldn’t.” She stopped talking and took several measured breaths. I hated seeing her in so much pain. If only I could take even a portion of it from her.
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I missed you.”
“You’re ridiculous.” Laurel winced, and her hand moved toward her side. “We just saw each other.”
I gently caught her hand before she could touch the wound. “Don’t. You need to heal.”
“That may have gotten more difficult. I think you just scared away my healer.”
“I’ll get you a new healer,” I said. “A better one.” I didn’t need Peter to be touching her and looking at her. If he did, I’d gladly throw him into the water trough again. As if summoned by the thought, Peter’s face appeared in the window again and this time, Little John stood beside him. John rapped smartly on the glass with his knuckles.
“Open up, Baron,” he called. “You can’t lock patients away from their healers.”
“Somebody’s in trouble,” Laurel said quietly in a singsong voice.
She grinned at me and applied a little pressure to my hand, then let go so I could stand and open the door. Peter pushed past me and went straight to Laurel. I made to follow, but Little John laid a restraining hand on my shoulder. He was one of the few people tall enough to do so comfortably.
“Let’s take a walk,” he said.
I looked back at Peter and Laurel. Peter glared at me through narrowed eyes as he placed a hand on Laurel’s forehead to check her temperature. Laurel gave the faintest shadow of a smile. Itdrove me mad to see Peter sitting next to her and touching her with such easy familiarity. I could tell what he wanted, and it was not merely to help his patient recover.
“Who has to have his daddy’s help now?” I asked Peter spitefully.
Peter bristled and Laurel’s eyes twinkled, but Little John’s grip tightened on my shoulder, and I was steered firmly out the door.
LAUREL
