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a thin line. But still she offered no explanation for her belief that she had been found by someone. Nor did she explain who that someone was.
Duarte had always been good at reading people, and right now he could see distrust settle into her eyes. She was the very definition of a flight risk, and if he had any hope of keeping her safe and finding out what her connection to his kidnapping was he needed to keep her here.
Almost as though she could hear his mind working, she took a step away, towards the living room. ‘I should be getting back to bed...’
‘Not so fast.’
She turned back and placed both hands defensively on her hips.
‘I need your help with this,’ he said. ‘I don’t think your nurse would be happy to be awoken at this hour.’
‘I... I’m not a medical professional. Could you take something for the pain?’
‘I know what I’m doing. I just need your hands.’
‘My hands?’ she repeated, eyeing the space between them with a strange expression.
Duarte tried not to feel affronted by her obvious reluctance to touch him. ‘It’s the least you can do, really, after you knocked me to the ground without effort.’ He raised a brow in challenge.
When the barest smile touched her lips Duarte felt something inside him ease. She had clearly known fear in her life, and to think she had been afraid of him had made something dark and heavy settle right in the centre of his chest.
When she moved to stop beside him he deliberately avoided her gaze, needing a moment to clear his thoughts and ready himself for the manoeuvre.
‘Will it hurt?’ she asked quietly, her teeth worrying her lower lip.
‘It’s not without pain, but it’s quick and then I’ll be able to sleep. If you let me guide your hands, I’ll show you.’
She placed both her hands into his much larger ones and Duarte felt again that strange echo of memory in the back of his mind as he took in the contrast of her porcelain skin against his dark brown tones. Brushing off the sensation, he placed her palms on the front of his shoulder, right where the pain burned most. As expected, her touch intensified the discomfort, but he instructed her to hold her grip. Her eyes were wide with fear and yet she did as she was told, keeping her hands steadfastly in position.
He told her how and when to apply counter-pressure and then did a quick countdown, biting down on his lower lip as he quickly guided his joint to where it needed to go with a swift jerk. The muffled roar that escaped his lips was quite mild in comparison to other times, when he’d been forced to do this alone.
He took a few deep breaths as the pain ebbed, and when he opened his eyes she was in front of him with a glass of water and two aspirin, which he accepted.
‘That’s not the first time you’ve done that...’ Nora frowned at him, her expression troubled as she watched him drink the water, leaving the medication untouched.
‘My memory is not the only part of my body that has been injured. I have a whole collection of scars owed to my time in captivity and the men behind it all. They were an energetic bunch of guys.’
Duarte thought of the memory he’d recovered earlier and felt a shiver run down his spine.
She stood close enough for him to see her eyes move to the long thin scar that moved from his temple down behind his ear. ‘Duarte, I’m so sorry.’
He hadn’t heard her speak his name since that first day in the rain. The sound of it on her lips, the way it rolled smoothly off her tongue...something about it called to him.
‘Why should you be sorry? It’s not your fault.’
At that she looked away, clearing the glass into the sink. With her back turned, Duarte took a moment to sweep his gaze along the length of her body, noticing her narrow waist and lush curves. It had only been a month since she’d given birth and the woman looked like she could step onto a catwalk.
His initial attraction to her had deeply perplexed him, considering her delicate condition, as had the depth to which she had become engrained in his thoughts in the weeks since. He’d deliberately been staying late at work in the city so he could get past whatever madness had taken over his mind since finding Miss Nora Beckett and becoming her unwitting protector.
He was not usually the kind of man who got off on rescuing damsels in distress; he didn’t feel the need to bolster his own masculinity. She was a beautiful woman and his libido responded to her as such—nothing more. The fact that he had not felt a similar attraction to any other equally attractive woman was just circumstantial.
Although truthfully, he hadn’t been looking at women very hard, preferring to dive deeply into his work and avoid distraction as he fought to make up for the time he’d lost.
He had promised her five weeks before he would question her again, but tonight had changed everything. The suspicions he’d had that she was in danger had just been confirmed with that break-in—as well as her words as she’d pinned him down—and he needed answers.
Nora took deep breaths to push down the wave of sorrow that threatened to overtake her at seeing the extent of the pain Duarte had suffered up close. She had felt the strange effects of her hormones shifting since Liam’s birth, but this was so much more. This was an echo of grief. The tears fell fast and heavy down her cheeks as she tried in earnest to turn her face away from Duarte’s perceptive gaze.
‘Are you crying?’
