Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [87]
Her headache was worse; as she stumbled around the bedroom trying to gather her clothing she had to grab at the furniture several times to keep from falling to her knees. Her mind was muddied, her thoughts jumbled, and nothing made much sense except the overpowering need she had to be gone. She had to leave before she was hurt any more, because she didn’t think she’d be able to live if anything else happened.
“Stop it,” a low voice commanded, and a hand caught her wrist, pulling her fingers away from the lingerie that she had been tossing carelessly into her suitcase. “You can pack later, when you’re feeling better. You have a headache, don’t you?”
She turned her head to look at him and almost staggered when her vision swayed alarmingly. “Yes,” she mumbled.
“I thought so. I watched you practically crawl up the stairs.” He put his arm around her waist, a curiously impersonal touch, and led her to the bed where they had shared so many nights. “Come on, you need a nap. You surprise me; I didn’t think you were the type who lived on nerves, but this is a tension headache if I’ve ever seen one.” His fingers moved down the front of her blouse, slipping the buttons out of their holes, and he eased the garment off her.
“I’m almost never sick,” she apologized. “I’m sorry.” She let him unsnap her bra and toss it aside. No, it wasn’t a matter of letting him do anything. The truth was that she didn’t feel capable of struggling with him over who would remove her clothes, and she badly needed the nap he had suggested. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t already seen every inch of her body. He eased her down on the bed and unfastened her slacks, sliding an arm under her and lifting her so he could pull them down over her hips. Her shoes came off with the slacks; then his hands returned and made short work of the filmy panties that were her last remaining garment.
Gently he turned her on her stomach, and she sighed as he began to rub the tight muscles in her neck. “I’m returning the favor,” he murmured. “Just think of all the massages you’ve given me. Relax and go to sleep. You’re tired, too tired to do anything right now. Sleep, darling.”
She did sleep, deeply and without dreaming, sedated by his strong fingers as they rubbed the aching tension from her back and shoulders. It was dark when she woke, but her headache was gone. She felt fuzzy and disoriented, and she blinked at the dark form that rose from a chair beside the bed.
“Do you feel better?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, pushing her heavy hair away from her face. He tuned on the lamp and sat down on the edge of the bed, surveying her with narrowed eyes, as if gauging for himself how well she was feeling.
“Thank you for taking care of me,” she said awkwardly. “I’ll pack now, and go to a hotel—”
“It’s too late to go anywhere tonight,” he interrupted. “You’ve slept for hours. Alberta left a plate warming for you, if you feel like eating. I think you should try to eat something, or you’ll be sick again. I didn’t realize what a strain you had been under,” he added thoughtfully.
She was hungry, and she sat up, holding the sheet to her. “I feel as if I could eat a cow,” she said ruefully.
He chuckled softly. “I hope you’ll settle for something less than a whole cow,” he said, untangling a nightgown from the jumble of clothing that still littered the bed. He plucked the sheet away from her fingers and settled the nightgown over her head as impersonally as if he were dressing a child. Then he found her robe, and she obediently slid her arms into the sleeves while he held it.
“You don’t have to coddle me,” she said. “I feel much better. After food, I want a shower, and then I’ll be fine.”
“I like coddling you,” he replied. “Just think of how many times you helped me to dress, how many times you coaxed me to eat, how many times you’ve picked me up when I lay sprawled on the floor.”
He walked downstairs with her and sat beside her while she ate. She could feel his steady gaze on her, but the anger that had been there earlier was gone. Had it been only pride that made