With his hands, Nick pried the broken wires open and forced her jaws apart. He turned her on her stomach where she retched, choked, coughed and lost the contents of her stomach all over the carpet.
“Oh, my land!” Eugenia’s voice came over the frantic clip of her footsteps. “What happened oh, my—”
Boots rang down the back stairs, echoing from the servant’s quarters. Marla gasped, coughed, thought she’d be sick all over again. From the corner of her eye, through the dimness of her vision and the horror that she was lying in her own vomit, Marla saw Tom, Fiona and Carmen rushing to her. Her jaw ached, her stomach still twitched and for the first time since she’d gained consciousness she wanted to give herself into the comfort of a dark, black void.
Nick shook her. “Stay with me,” he ordered. “Marla, stay the hell with me.”
“Get out of the way. I’ll see to her,” Tom commanded and his boots came into view. “Mrs. Cahill?” He was leaning over her, his hand on her shoulders. “Let me help you . . .”
No! She wanted Nick. She didn’t want this man, this stranger touching her.
“Call 911,” Nick screamed at Eugenia. Then to Marla. “You’ll be all right.” His gaze held hers as if he were willing her to stay conscious. “You’ll be okay.”
“I said I’d take over,” the nurse insisted.
Nick didn’t budge. “I’ve got her.”
Blackness oozed in from the corners of her vision.
“Breathe, damn it. Open your mouth!” Nick’s strong hands wedged her jaw open again and she coughed and heaved again, curling into a ball and retching until there was nothing left but pain.
“I’ll call the paramedics.” Carmen’s voice was clear over the sounds of Cissy sobbing and Marla’s own rasping breath. She opened her eyes, the hallway swam, then came into sharp focus. Nick was still straddling her, though his weight wasn’t pinning her down as he balanced on his knees. His face grim, his intense blue eyes searching hers. “Marla?” Carmen had disappeared, but Eugenia, Tom and Cissy were standing around, needing to fuss.
“Oh . . .” She could barely speak, her mouth bruised and aching. “I . . . I’ll be all right,” she lied, the words hard to form.
“The ambulance is on its way.” Carmen appeared from the suite.
Marla shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.
“The paramedics will take her to Bayside,” Carmen added.
“We’ll have Phil Robertson meet her there.”
“No.” Marla struggled with the word. At the thought of being hospitalized for even a few hours, Marla panicked. She couldn’t, wouldn’t go back to the hospital again, not to that place where she had no control of her life, no answers to the questions plaguing her. “No . . . I’ll be . . . I’m all right.” Still coughing, she dragged herself to her knees. Her stomach was quiet, she’d quit heaving, but the pain in her mouth was excruciating, the clipped wires cutting her lips, her jaw not working right as atrophied muscles refused to come alive.
“You’re not all right. You just got out of the hospital a few days ago,” Nick insisted, getting to his feet and regarding her through dark, worried eyes.
“And I’m not going back.” She knew the sane thing to do would be to be examined at the hospital, and yet she felt that it would be a vast mistake.
“Marla, don’t even argue.” Nick’s voice was firm, his jaw tight. “Look at you.”
She couldn’t see the mess she was; didn’t want to. Leaning against the rail, she tilted her head to stare up at him. She knew she was a horrid sight with splotchy skin and vomit staining her pajamas, but she didn’t care. Didn’t care that the servants and her mother-in-law saw her in such a state. She took in another long breath and coughed for a second. Her mouth tasted horrid, her nose was filled with the acrid scent.
“Here.” He sat her on a chair in the hall. “Let me see if I can help.” Again he worked on her mouth, removing the remaining pieces of jagged wire, extracting any tiny piece of metal, so that there was nothing left but the pain of atrophied muscles and cut flesh. “Now when the ambulance gets here—”
“Just take me to a doctor and have him look me over,” she insisted.
He hesitated. “I think—”
“Please, Nick, can you do this for me?” she asked and saw raw emotion darken his eyes. A muscle worked in the corner of his jaw. Blade-thin lips flattened as he studied her.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” She was in no mood for arguments. She could barely speak her mouth hurt so badly. “If . . . if I thought there was any danger, believe me, I’d have you take me back to Bayside.”
“You nearly died,” he insisted.
A chill swept through her. “I know,” she whispered. “Now please . . .”