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While she leaned against the counter, wishing she had already asked for painkillers, Farris removed his leather belt and kicked off his socks and shoes. She knew she was being ridiculous. But a woman who had been nearly eaten by a bear, deserted by her lover and then thrown from a horse deserved a few eccentricities.
She watched as he turned on the water in the lavish shower stall and adjusted the temperature. He shot her a glance over his shoulder. “You ready?”
She nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”
“We’ll take the stool with us.”
India frowned. It was beautiful—handmade—a wrought-iron piece with a woven seat covering. “It will be ruined.”
Anger flared in his eyes. “Do you think I care?”
Why was he angry? Was he really so worried about her? Or was it his aborted trip that had him grouchy and short-tempered?
Well, fine. If he wanted to ruin the damn stool, let him.
In the shower, she started to giggle. It was more hysteria than amusement. Farris’s eyes widened. “What’s so funny?”
She waved a hand. “You. With your clothes all wet. You look ridiculous.”
The words were a bald-faced lie. The man was gorgeous on an ordinary day. Now, with his shirt plastered to his body and his hard, muscular frame showcased, he was any woman’s fantasy.
India wished he belonged to her.
True to his word, Farris washed her from the top of her head to her toes without any fanfare. His touch was impersonal.
Her pride was in tatters. Of course, there was no way India could have handled this on her own. And, oh, how wonderful it felt to be clean.
At the very end, Farris removed her bra and wrapped her in a huge towel. Then he steadied her as she stepped out of her wet underwear.
“Do you want to pick out your own clothes?” he asked.
The man was practically supporting her entire weight. Even so, she nodded. “I’ll get dressed while you change for dinner.”
“If that’s what you want.” He put her in a chair in the bedroom. “If you get dizzy at all, sit down immediately. I won’t be long.”
India nodded, and then he was gone. Only because she didn’t want him to come back and find her still naked was she able to coax herself into standing. She grabbed a soft bra and panties from a drawer. Putting them on was not easy, but she managed.
In the closet, she found a clean pair of navy sweats that were easy to step into, and then she added a red cashmere sweater. She was hoping the color might cheer her up.
She’d had a glimpse of her bloody cheek already while in the bathroom. It was bad today. Tomorrow it would be worse. In the shower, when Farris had washed her face so gently, the wound had stung like the devil.
When the bedroom door opened, she had just finished adding the tiniest bit of makeup. Anything to make her look perkier than she was.
Seeing Farris caused her heart to skip a beat. He had changed into jeans that were so soft and faded she wondered if he had owned them since college. The fabric molded to his long legs and flat abdomen as if the pants had been made for him.
His feet were no longer bare. Instead, he wore navy wool socks, but no shoes. The navy-and-cream-striped Henley shirt stretched across wide shoulders.
He gave her a searching glance. “You sure you don’t want a dinner tray in here?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
It would have been personally satisfying to walk from the bedroom to the dining room all on her own. Nevertheless, she might be stubborn, but she wasn’t stupid. Fortunately, Farris didn’t make a big deal about it. Even when she was forced to lean heavily on his arm, he didn’t speak.
Dottie, on the other hand, talked enough for all three of them when they finally sat down to eat. The traditional meal of steak and baked potatoes was augmented with a beautiful green salad. The conversation flowed around India as she concentrated on sitting upright.
It was only when they were having dessert and coffee that her heart began to pound at Farris’s words. “Ladies,” he said, his smile guileless. “I have news.”
