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The whisky went down the wrong pipe, bringing on a fit of coughs. When he recovered, Royal eyed his wife’s indignant expression. “Is that your expert opinion, my lady?”
“I refuse to believe that any doctor would say you were infine trim. Your limp is still quite bad, and the bruises are only now beginning to fade.”
“How do you know about my bruises? Have you been spying on me when I was getting undressed?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I never spy.”
“That’s too bad,” he said with genuine regret.
“I have people spyforme, of course.”
He had to laugh. “Angus.”
“Much to my surprise, he’s turned into an excellent coconspirator.”
“I’ve noticed.”
Although grateful that Angus and Ainsley had sworn a truce, that welcome state of affairs was mostly dictated by their worries about his health. It meant they fashed themselves to a ridiculous degree, consulting in loud whispers when they thought he wasn’t listening. Mostly he ignored them, but a few times he’d been forced to speak sternly when they’d tried to push some ghastly potion on him or smear him with yet another foul-smelling ointment from the local chemist.
“I know you hate it when we fuss,” she said, “but someone has to take care of you.”
“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. You and Angus can confine your impulses to play nurse to Tira.”
“We do, in fact, argue about Tira on a regular basis. But Angus and I are in complete agreement that you need to take better care of yourself. Most importantly, you need to get more rest.”
He rubbed his chin. “I can think of one thing that would help with that.”
“Splendid.”
“If my wife were to join me in bed, I’d be sure to get plenty of rest. More rest than you could shake a stick at. So to speak,” he added, waggling his eyebrows.
Ainsley cast an exasperated glance to the heavens. “I refuse to dignify that wretched joke with so much as an embarrassed chuckle. Besides, such an arrangement would not be restful. Quite the opposite, I believe.Andyou could hurt yourself again.”
“Well, to be fair,Ididn’t actually hurt myself.”
Her shoulders went up around her ears.
“But most of that episode was exceedingly pleasant, as I recall,” he hastily added. “For both of us.”
“Ihurtyou, Royal. Have you forgotten that?”
So that was the reason for her skittishness—at least part of it. She was still upset that she’d injured him.
“Love, you must stop worrying so much. Dr. Baker was quite clear that there would be no lasting damage at all.”
“Did he prescribe any treatment?”
“He simply said I was not to overtax myself for a week or so.”
“Thank goodness,” she said with a relieved smile. “You took a hackney home from the doctor’s office, I presume? It’s much too long a walk.”
He mentally crossed his fingers. “Much too long. Oh, Baker did say that massage would assist in healing the injury. To stimulate the muscles and increase circulation of the blood, I believe.”
“Are you sure?” she asked in a dubious tone. “I wouldn’t want to, um, aggravate anything.”
As far as he was concerned, she could aggravate anything she wanted. “Absolutely. But it would be very helpful for the healing process, apparently.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” She brightened, obviously warming to the idea. “It did seem to help before, didn’t it?”
