He anchored her with his grip on her wrist. “Later. I want to explain.”
Her green eyes stared at him. Her lips pursed tight. Her whole demeanor said he’d better make it a good one. “It occurred to me that you married me thinking you were getting a strong man. What happened here a few days ago might have changed your opinion on what you’d married up with.”
“That’s nonsense!”
She looked so outraged, he had to smile. “Just goes to show how addled a man can get when he’s forced to live on gruel.”
“I have not served you gruel.”
“It’s been a long way from steak.”
“Your stomach’s too weak for steak.”
“My stomach’s too weak for gruel.”
She sighed and looked at the mess on the bed. “Well, looks like you’re back to gruel.”
“Uh-huh.” And they made snowballs in hell. He let his fingers flirt with the collar of her shirtwaist. “So you were fretting on losing me, huh?”
“I was concerned.” Her gaze moved to something outside the window.
He smiled, amazed she could sit there so prim and proper while he unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress. The pulse in her throat came into view. It was tapping fast and hard. “Truth be told, darlin’, were our positions switched, I’d have been nervous about losing you, too.”
He watched as she swallowed hard, her gaze still fixed on the view outside the window. “You would?”
“Uh-huh.” He pressed his finger on her pulse and smiled when it took off racing. “I’ve gotten used to having you around.”
“Oh.”
“You honestly find those clouds so attention-getting?”
“No.” Honest as always, yet he noticed she didn’t drag her gaze away.
“‘Cause, if you could see your way to dragging your attention back here, I’ve got a mind to do some sparking.”
That had her jerking her whole body his way. “Are you out of your mind?”
If he hadn’t known how concerned she’d been, her outrage would have put canyon-deep holes in his pride. “Nope.”
He got another button free before she caught onto his game. She grabbed his hand, stopping him from getting to the flesh he wanted to pay some attention to.
“You can’t. I mean, we can’t…” She sputtered to a halt, no doubt searching for a polite term for what he wanted. She finally gave up and settled for logic. “You’re hurt.”
He rubbed his knuckles up and down the prim row of buttons she was guarding so diligently. “I’ll allow we’ll have to curb your wild side a bit.”
“I do not have a wild side!”
“Sure enough, you do, darlin’,” he countered. “And I count myself a lucky man for it.”
She stared at him, obviously looking for a reasonable argument that would dissuade him from what she saw as idiocy. He couldn’t help a smile. After having her care for him for the last week, her hands continually touching his body, her sweet scent always around, her near admission of love. Hell! Short of a bullet in the brain, he wasn’t about to be dissuaded.
“The bed is a mess,” she huffed, not yet recognizing the futility of arguing with him.
“Can’t argue that.”
He shoved the covers down. She sprang off the bed as if he’d lit a match to her posterior. “What are you doing? Get back in that bed!”
Lord, she was cute when she hovered. “You know, darlin’, I always thought nagging women were like crows, nothing but an irritation.”
Her hands landed on her hips in a battle stance. “I do not nag.”
“I have to argue there, but I’ve decided I like it.”
“I couldn’t care less.” The lace of her collar fluttered against her throat with the deep breaths she was taking. “May I ask what you’re doing?”
He eased his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m heading to your room.”
“Any particular reason?” She reached up and began re-doing the buttons he’d undone.
“Yup.” He took a steadying breath as he pushed his torso upright. “Seeing as you won’t lie with me in a puddle of soup, I thought I’d switch beds.”
“I am not lying down with you, period, so you might as well get back in that bed.”
Pain laced his side. He took a few breaths to control it. He wanted to wrap his arm around his ribs, but he knew, if he showed such weakness, she’d use it against him. “You can’t have any argument against a clean bed.”
She got the last button done up proper. As soon as the button landed in the hole, her spine snapped tight as if welcoming reinforcements. “You’re a hard-headed man, Mr. MacIntyre, but I can see you need to attempt this foolishness in order to see the sense in staying put.”
He eyed her under his brow. “That a challenge?”
“Merely a call to common sense.”
“Uh-huh.” He braced his hands on the bed. “And, if I take up this challenge, what do I win?”
“Your health.”
“And if you win?”