“Are you hurt?” Taber rushed behind him, half-carrying Roni as he forced her farther into the house.
“No…”
“Fuck, you’re lying to me!” He must have seen the blood. “Come on. Downstairs. You’ll be safe there.” Safe. Her head was swimming, her shoulder was throbbing like hell and all she wanted to do was have him throw her to the floor now and fuck her until she screamed. She moaned in defeat. At this rate, she would be pregnant before three days were up. No more heat, no more bond, and Taber would be gone again. Just as before.
Chapter Eighteen
Well, it was official. Morphine didn’t ease the mating heat, either. But at least the symptoms were a shade more bearable. The good doctor was able to check her shoulder and dress the flesh wound quickly as they all kept a careful eye on Merinus.
The other woman had finally awakened, none the worse for wear. The force of the wood that had hit her temple had merely rendered her unconscious for a while. There was minor bleeding but no complications that the doctor could see.
Callan wasn’t listening, though. He sat beside the small hospital gurney, his body hunched over the bed, arms wrapped around his wife as he held onto her protectively. His large hands ran over her tangled hair, her back, the slight mound of her abdomen where, the doctor assured them, the babe rested safe and sound.
His voice was broken, hoarse with emotion as Merinus tried to soothe the fury trembling through his body. Twice she had been forced to whimper, a more than obvious fake sound of pain, to keep him from rushing back outside when news came that the assassins were contained. Two were dead; another was alive but wounded. Doc Martin had not yet moved to treat the mercenary locked in one of the empty supply sheds.
“Matter of priorities,” he had said calmly when she asked him about the doctor’s oath he had taken.
“Besides, if that one dies, there’ll be more to take his place.” There was a hatred so unforgiving within the older man that Roni shivered at the force of it.
Taber had said very little. He had held her as her shoulder was bandaged and still hadn’t moved but inches from her side as she lay on her stomach, fighting exhaustion and arousal. He smelled too damned good and she was so tired.
“Take your wife to her bed, Callan,” Doc finally said wearily as Callan’s head rose, his body still trembling in reaction. “She needs to rest. And you need to assure yourself all is fine. The danger is over for now. Same for you, Taber.” He turned back to Roni. “Take her upstairs and care for her. Tomorrow is time enough to worry of other things.”
Martin’s shoulders were slumped, his voice tired and so filled with sadness Roni wanted to weep for him. As he moved away from the bed, Callan rose from the chair he had pulled to Merinus’ bed and approached Roni slowly. As she looked into his eyes, she knew this was a man she never wanted to cross.
The golden-brown orbs were almost a full amber, glittering with an animal savagery that she knew wouldn’t hesitate to kill.
“I know I can’t touch you,” he sighed as he approached her, going to one knee in front of her and looking up at her. “I know what you did, covering her body with your own. My men were screaming the information at me as I ran for that damned porch. If I could hug you, I would. If I had riches, I would bestow them upon you. If I had anything to show you the gift you gave me in saving her life, then it would be yours.”
His voice was soft, throbbing with all the pent-up emotion that he was fighting.
“Morphine’s a great little drug,” she whispered conspiratorially, lying through her teeth. “I didn’t even feel a twinge when the doc dressed the wound. You can hug me if you need to.” A small smile tilted his lips, involuntary and chastising. “You are still the little imp you always were,” he told her gently, shaking his finger at her. “I know better. I could smell your pain as the doctor worked on you, and it flayed my soul to know that it had happened. She would have been defenseless…” He swallowed tightly.
“She’s fine.” Roni knew she was feeling a little giddy from the drugs when she gave Callan a mock frown. “But I want a gun now. I know how to use it.”
“It’s yours.” He nodded firmly, not even bothering to glance at Taber to be certain, as she had expected.
“Side arm or rifle?”
She felt a thrill of satisfaction. “Rifle. Like Taber’s.” Taber groaned behind her.
“Lessons,” Callan muttered, shaking his head at her. “Let Taber teach you the use of it and it’s yours. If you like, you can pick your own.”
He rose to his feet then, a small smile lighting his eyes. “Just don’t shoot Taber, huh? He has his good points.”
“I’m sure he does,” she drawled. “I just haven’t found them yet. I promise to look harder before making a firm decision to take his head off, though.”
“Thanks, buddy,” Taber retorted sarcastically to Callan. “Appreciate the help and all.” Callan winced. “Yeah. Welcome ole son.” He smothered his laughter as he looked over her head at Taber. “I have confidence in you, though. I’m sure you can convince her to let you live, at least for a while yet.”
Taber snorted, but by then Roni was bored with their male amusement.
“I need a bath.” She eased herself from the bed, testing the strength of her legs, which really wasn’t so good at the moment. “And food. I need food. Pizza is definitely called for in this situation.” Taber scooped her up in his arms, his grip fierce as he strode quickly from the room.
“I can walk,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, enjoying the brief respite from her worries that the drugs had provided.
“Of course you can.” He glanced down at her, his lips much too distracting as they curved up into a smile. “But I like carrying you.”
He had always carried her, every chance he had, she remembered. He had carried her when he first found her, huddled in the night, terrified of the sounds of darkness and the men who had run her from her home. Every chance after that, he had carried her whenever the opportunity presented itself.