He would then kiss those full, parted lips, long-lashed eyelids, the curve of her cheek, and . . . he groaned. This would not do. Same throbbing pain, new location, and there were no bandages to alleviate matters. He eased onto his back and glowered at the painted swirls in the ceiling.
“Are you all right?”
He turned his head and found Julia wide-awake. He swallowed. Good lord, if she would accept his bloody proposal, he could awaken to her looking at him like that every morning, though hopefully, minus the furrowed brow of concern.
She unfurled her legs and stood. Leaning over, she brushed his hair from his temple, and placed her hand on his forehead. “No fever. That’s good.” She straightened and smiled. “How are you feeling?”
It surprised him that he didn’t have a fever, for his body was burning, and her touch elevated his temperature another degree. He cleared his throat. “Like an apple tossed into the cider mill’s crusher.” He paused, wonder filling him at the moisture pooling in her eyes before she blinked it back. He hastened to allay her worry. “I look worse than I feel. Really. Bruises heal. The footpads picked the wrong group to rob.” When she still looked unconvinced, he pressed on. “They didn’t see Robbie. With his size, he only had to growl and they fled like the cowards they were.”
Julia quickly turned away and strode over to the commode. He frowned as she lifted her hand to swipe at her eye.
Something in his chest constricted. No one had ever shed tears over him before, had ever offered him compassion, and he was not sure how to respond. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and with it the compulsion to babble like an idiot. “Julia, I promise you, I am fine, been battered worse. I—”
She swung back around and fisted her hands at her sides. “It was not a robbery gone wrong, so don’t placate me with a lie. Someone tried to plunge a knife in you, and you could have been killed. And not for the first time. I know they tried to burn Lakeview Manor with you in it.” Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.
Stunned, his mouth dropped open, and then slammed shut. Brett. He cursed him and his big mouth. When Daniel got through with him, he would wish he had been the one cut last evening. He struggled to a sitting position, cursed the pain piercing his side, and fell back with a groan.
Julia’s anger vanished, and she was at his side, her hand on his shoulder. “Stay still. Do you want to open the wound again? For goodness’ sake, you need to lie down and let yourself heal.”
Daniel glowered and propped himself more slowly on his elbows, resisting her efforts to push him back.
“Daniel, stop it,” she cried. “Stop it or I’ll get my father in here to hold you down.”
Amused, he paused to consider her words. “Not a good idea with you dressed like that and me like this and us having spent the night together—”
She yanked her hand back as if his skin burned and hissed at him. “We did no such thing,” she gasped.
“We did. I woke up and you were sound asleep on the chair. It’s official now. We have spent the night together, so you have to marry me. I have now compromised you twice.” He groaned and collapsed back on the bed, the strain of propping himself up having taken its toll. “But don’t send for the vicar just yet. Give me a few days . . .”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You cannot compromise someone twice. Once they are ruined, the matter is finished. There is no . . .” Her voice trailed off and she pressed her hand to her forehead. “This conversation is not relevant. You are deliberately trying to distract me. It will not succeed, and we are not marrying in a few days, because you are leaving. You are returning to America as soon as possible. You cannot stay. Last night proved it. It is too dangerous. Brett Curtis told me—”
“Too much, that is what he told you,” he muttered. He attempted to sit up again, but Julia was beside him, pressing back on his shoulders.
“Wait, stop! If you insist on sitting up, let me help you before you open your wound and bleed all over the bed linens.”
“Fine.” He started to sit up, but when her hand moved to slip behind him, he stopped and sank back into the pillows. “I . . . I ah . . . I can manage on my own. I am fine, really.”
She stared at him and straightening, she spoke softly. “I have seen the scars. It is a small sacrifice to pay for your life. You could have been killed and you survived. Those scars are a reminder of that and carry no shame.”
Stunned, his lips parted, and his heart beat off rhythm. Many women had turned away at the sight, appalled. Not his Julia. Nothing scared her. Except marriage. To him.