Page 41 of Go, Rogue

“I’ll get you some tea.”

McGann stands from his hunched position in the desk chair he’d drawn over to her bedside. She watches him move away. He’s unreasonably graceful for a man his size. So much so that she notices, even with the ache in her head.

“How long?” she croaks, her voice harsh and scratchy.

“How long until what, Menace? How long have you been sleeping? A day and a night. We’ve seven days left now, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He returns with the tea and helps her to a sitting position, her head throbbing with the movement. He gently holds the teacup for her while she takes a sip. And then another.

“What happened?” she asks once her throat is less parched.

“There were fires. I found you in the hold with a serious knock to your head, in a pool of oil. Do you remember anything? Why you were there? If you slipped, or…?”

She tries to recall, but her mind holds nothing but a throbbing, aching darkness. “No,” she says quietly and shakes her head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, lass. You’ve taken quite a blow to the head. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

She lets her mind travel up and down the length of her body but finds nothing amiss except the throbbing pain at the back of her skull.

“No. Just my head.” And then after a moment, “I knew you’d come for me, Andrew. I don’t remember much, but I do recall that. How afraid I was, slipping in and out of darkness. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I knew you’d come. I knew you’d find me.” She pauses. “And you did.”

“Aye,” he says, turning away from her. But not before she sees the heat in his cheeks. “Of course I found you, lass. I’d have torn the whole goddamned ship apart to find you.”