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She opened her eyes. ‘I’m fine now.’

‘Shut up and save your breath.’

Her swollen lips struggled to form a smile. ‘Bully.’ She felt the pressure of his lips on her forehead, the warmth contrasting with the ice of the hand that stroked her brow.

* * *

During the transfer to the hospital—a helicopter seemed massive overkill—she tried several times to tell people she was fine and was ignored.

She said it again when a doctor, not the one who had initially seen her, entered the room with Leandro alongside him.

‘You have responded well to treatment, I am happy to say, but we would like to keep you here for observation overnight.’

‘But—’

‘Anaphylaxis is serious—your blood pressure was extremely low when you arrived.’ The medic looked to Leandro for backup and it came, though possibly not in the form he had imagined.

‘You could have died.’

‘Well, let’s focus on the positive,’ the medic suggested tentatively.

Leandro slung him a look that silenced him and dragged a hand across his normally smooth jaw, which was sporting a stubbly shadow that served to emphasise the strong planes and hollows of his face, his normally sleek hair sexily mussed.

He carried off haggard very well.

‘I swear, Elsie, I’ll tie you to the damned bed if you try to get out of it.’

The doctor looked between the two of them and cleared his throat. ‘Right then, I will pop in later, sir.’ He tipped his head respectfully towards Leandro, who didn’t appear to notice, and left the room.

‘I’m not joking. You know that, don’t you?’ He slumped into a chair beside the bed, across from where the bag of fluids was attached to her arm. ‘Oh, God, you look so awful…’

‘Well, so do you,’ she countered.

He almost smiled.

‘What time is it?’

He glanced at the silver-banded watch on his wrist. ‘One-thirty. You should get some sleep.’

She nodded.

‘I can stay.’

She shook her head. ‘You need to sleep.’

‘I’ll stay until you fall asleep and then I’ll rest,’ he lied.

* * *

As he hammered on the door, Leandro fought the rage inside him.

It was opened by someone he assumed was a servant. The man tightened the tie on his robe and bowed so low his head almost hit the floor. Leandro, who was not here to intimidate him, managed to respond with a nod.

‘Where is he?’

The servant didn’t pretend to misunderstand, his frightened stare going from his King to the two suited figures who had entered behind him. ‘I will wake him, Your Majesty.’

‘I’ll bloody wake him—I’ll throttle his scrawny murderous neck. Wait here.’