“We had a deal,” Lyle growled.
Patrick spun back around with an indolent expression on his face. “Ah, yes, that’s right. I suppose I could tell you that my little story earlier wasn’t quite the truth. I went to that room because Lysse told me that’s where Ryon Ward would be.”
Lyle considered it. “And why were you going to see him?”
Patrick smirked, then shrugged.
“Were you going to sabotage him?”
Another shrug.
“But you were attacked. It wasn’t by Ryon. He would have said something. Who attacked you, and how did you get that bruise on your face?”
Patrick glanced down at his injured leg. Even still, he wore a cool air of confidence that kept the duke bathed in smarminess. “Then I guess it wasn’t him who attacked me. Someone did. An Ava, I believe. The claw marks down my chest would attest to that.”
Lyle could see that he’d gotten as far as he could with his brother.
“Now, if you don’t mind. I have a silver mine to see to.”
With that, he turned and departed.
Chapter 16
For the fifth time that morning, Penelope placed her bare feet on the wood floor only to hear Ryon’s boots stomping down the hallway toward her room in the next instant.
“Damn,” she cursed, and hopped back into bed.
His head poked in the doorway, eyes narrowed suspiciously, just missing her pulling her legs back under the sheets. “What did I say about getting up?”
“But I didn’t get up.” She threw in an innocent smile for good measure.
His narrowed gaze hardened like granite. “I heard the floor creak. I know what you’re up to. You’ve been trying to get out of that bed all day. The doctor said you have stay at least another day minimum.”
“Another day minimum!” she nearly shouted. “If I have to sit in this bed for another day I’m going to explode. I can’t stand it, I tell you. I feel perfectly well. Not sick at all, see my face? No pallor at all. See my wound? Nearly healed up—”
“Nearly,” he pointed out. “You still have a bandage the size of a scarf around your neck for a reason, Pen. You won’t be moving until the doctor clears you.”
Penelope looked outside her bedroom window to send a withering glare to the environment. She couldn’t keep from crossing her arms and scowling. She did not like being ordered around and she did not like sitting in her bed for hours on end. She wasn’t some immobile person too sickly to even walk. She wanted to move, to dance, to feel alive again.
“The wound is being entirely over exaggerated,” she muttered.
“Love, you were bitten by a mad Avagarian. We need to let the wound heal properly and not cause any more damage.”
Ha! She wanted to laugh in his face.
“You know…I was thinking. What’s going to happen to that woman, you think?”
“Lysse?”
She confirmed with a nod.
“We’ll have to wait and see. Tomorrow begins the trial. We’ll give our honest testimony. That’s all we can do.”
Ryon came over to her side and grabbed her hand, eyeing the damage under her bandage. She knew her skin still looked rough but it was far better than it had been.
“Pen, I know you’re bored and I know you’re afraid, but you need to trust me.”
She laughed at that. “You know that’s always been my problem, trusting you.”
“Yes, well, today’s the beginning of you trusting me. It starts right now. This very minute,” he said.
She swallowed over the sudden lump in her throat. If she weren’t careful her stupid eyes would start misting too. “I love you, you know.”
He smiled, a big smile that crinkled the corner of his eyes. “You have no idea how good it feels to hear that.” He leaned down, the bed dipping with his weight, and he pressed a kiss to her lips.
Her breath caught. The kiss was nice and warm. She went to deepen it, but he pulled away, cheeks darkening with color. “Now isn’t the right time for this. No matter how much I want to.”
Scowling, she looked back out her window again. Ignoring him. “Fine.”
He laughed. “Love, it’s not like that. You know I’ve been mad over you for years. But now is not the right time. Your wound is still too fresh, and I have to leave for work. There’s a lot more to take care of since the attack.”
“My wound doesn’t even hurt,” she jumped in to say. “I can roll my neck and everything. There’s a faint soreness. It feels more like a bruise more than anything. I don’t see why I can’t at least walk around.”
His eyes narrowed. “Fine, you can walk around—” her eyes lit up with hope, “—in your room. But nowhere further.”