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Conor shrugged. ‘Eventually.’
‘Then, you must have had some good memories of the years you spent here.’
He smiled slightly. ‘Do you have good memories of—what’s the name of that town in Connecticut?’
‘Greenfield.’ She hesitated, then smiled back at him. ‘Of course. Nothing’s ever completely black or white.’
‘Exactly. Besides, I had to come back. Felix was sick.’
‘He told me.’ Arden paused again. ‘He said you came back to the ranch to take it away from him.’
‘Did he?’ Conor said, with a quick, flat smile. ‘Yes, it’s the way he’d think, that I wanted to avenge the injustice he did my father. And he wasn’t wrong, Arden, he—’
‘Señor Martinez?’ The rap at the door, and the voice, came at the same instant. Arden looked up as a portly man carrying a small black bag stepped into the room.
‘Dr Borgas.’ Conor rose, his hand extended. ‘Thank you for coming so promptly.’ He nodded towards Arden. ‘This is Senorita Miller. She’s had a bump on the head, and I’d be most grateful if you’d examine her and see if she’s all right.’
Arden made a face. ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Really. I had a headache, but even that’s gone now.’
‘Let me be the judge of that, señorita.’ He looked at Conor. ‘If you will be good enough to leave us, señor...?’
Conor did, but only after frowning and assuring Arden that he would be just outside if she should need him. Borgas smiled as the door shut after him.
‘Señor Martinez is very protective of you, señorita.’
Arden flushed. ‘Oh, no, Doctor. He’s just concerned about my injury.’
‘As you prefer. Still,’ he said, with a little smile, ‘I would prefer to examine you so that I may assure the señor that you are fine and healthy and he need not wear out the hallway, pacing it as he worries about you. Lie back, please, Señorita Miller, and look directly at this light.’
It took less than half an hour for the doctor to confirm Arden’s self-diagnosis. She was fine, except for the lump on her head.
‘Are you certain?’ Conor demanded, when he was let back into the room for the diagnosis.
‘Quite certain,’ Borgas said with a smile. ‘Just see to it the señorita rests for the balance of the day and for the evening. Tomorrow, her life can return to normal.’
Arden awoke to a soft rap at the door the next morning. Inez, she thought groggily, come to bring her a breakfast tray, just as she had brought her lunch and dinner yesterday, at Conor’s insistence.
Arden sighed and sat up against the pillows. Conor had obviously forgotten Dr Borgas’s instructions. Breakfast in bed was hardly ‘normal’.
Well, she’d put a stop to that immediately.
‘Come in,’ she called as she tossed back the blankets. The door opened and she looked up, shaking her head and smiling. ‘Inez, you take that tray right back to the... Conor.’ She blinked foolishly, then snatched the blanket and drew it up to her chin. ‘What are you doing here?’
He smiled at her, tall and ruggedly handsome in jeans and a faded denim shirt.
‘Good morning, querida How do you feel today?’
‘Fine, thank you. But—’
‘Fine enough to breakfast al fresco?’
She smiled uncertainly. ‘To what?’
‘I thought we’d have our coffee outside today.’
‘On the terrace?’
He grinned. ‘Better than that.’
