“Young pup, so very youngand innocent,” John said with a quiet chuckle.
“You should get some morerest,” John suggested.
“I’ve done nothing butsleep. But you should.”
The mattress moved and it dippedbehind him. He could sleep for a week given the opportunity, and hewasn’t about to waste one now. He stretched his hand out to feelalong his side of the bed, and his fingers brushed her skirts.Good. Elizabeth was against the wall, leaving the outer side forhim. He located the pillow and stretched out beside her. He hadn’tlain down in days.
“Jean Pierre?”
“Yes?”
“Where did you find adoctor? I don’t remember there being one.”
“We didn’t.”
The mattress dipped and he assumed sheturned towards him. Elizabeth gasped and rolled back. She must befeeling better if she had forgotten the bullet hole in her side.Not that it had been all that deep, thank goodness. Her cloak anddress had helped slow down the impact, but it also carried bits andpieces of material into the wound. He caused nearly as much damageas the bullet, trying to make sure the wound was clean of anythingthat could cause infection.
“I thought I wasshot.”
“You were.” He rolled toface her so she didn’t feel the need to face him. Not that itmattered, the room was black as pitch—it was impossible to seeanything. “It wasn’t safe to stop anywhere, and Maurice was notsure who could be trusted.”
“Then who treated me? Iknow someone did, because there is a bandage around myside.”
“I did.”
Silence followed hisstatement, and he knew Elizabeth’s mind was churning. It was Johnwho removed her dress and chemise so that he could get to her side.He had done his best not to look at her person and had covered asmuch of her with blankets as possible. He was the one who dug thebullet out, which now rested in his pocket. He’d poured brandy intothe wound, which had caused her to cry out and scream, momentarilywaking while he placed a hand over her mouth so as not to be heardbefore she was unconscious again. He’d stitched the wound andbathed her body each time her fever had spiked those first twodays. But he wouldn’t tell her everything—only admit to what wasasked.
“You undressed me?” Herwords were so quiet he would not have been able to hear her in anyother setting.
“I had no choice,Elizabeth. You would have died. I had to remove thebullet.”
“I understand.”
He wasn’t so certain she did. Or,perhaps she was mortified at being seen. Given her family, despitethe fact that she was a spy, John didn’t doubt Elizabeth was aproper young lady beneath it all. Her kiss had been too innocent,too tentative to have been kissed before, which meant no man hadever seen her unclothed, either. Until him.
“Thank you. You saved mylife.”
John grinned into the darkness. “Youwould have done the same for me.”
“I suppose I wouldhave.”
“You should sleep,Elizabeth. You still need to heal.”
She didn’t respond but simply sighedand John took it as an indication that she intended to do justthat.
He rolled over, putting his back toher so he could watch the door. He should be exhausted, but hismind remained alert. Elizabeth Whitton was an amazing young woman.While he certainly cared for her, the thought of the risks she’dtaken for England over these last few years left him suddenlychilled him. She hadn’t hesitated when they had to run, and she’dseen to it that messages of warning were delivered to others whilehe remained behind. In fact, the only thing that stopped her was abullet.
Even injured, she wasn’t a trial. Ofcourse, she slept most of the time, but when she did awaken shedidn’t whine, cry, or complain, but just asked how they wereprogressing. And bit by bit, pieces of his heart were being turnedover to her. Not that he would ever tell her. That was simply notdone. They had a job to do and most likely would never see eachother again when this was over.
John forced his eyes closed and willedsleep to come, trying to forget she lay next to him. And trying notto think about the fact that sleep wasn’t the only thing to do inbed in the dark.
The wall opened and sunlight streamedinto the room. John raised his arms to block his eyes from thesudden daggers of light.
“Good morning,” the youngman chirped.
“Good morning.” Elizabethsounded just as happy in her greeting.
John groaned. His eyes were heavy andhe was certain he only slept an hour, if that. “What time isit?”
“Almost noon.” The boy puta tray on the ground. “I have tea and biscuits.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth satup and stretched.
“I’ll leave the door openfor now. But if we see another ship, I will have to closeit.”
John nodded his head in understandingand stretched his arms above his head. Almost noon? He had sleptclose to twelve hours. Well, he did need the sleep, as didElizabeth. He turned to look at her. Most of the color was back inher cheeks, though they had lost some of their roundness. “How areyou feeling?”
“Oh, I feel marvelous,finally.”
He doubted she felt that well, butanticipated her recovery would be quick once the fever hadbroken.
“And I am famished.” Shelifted her skirts up, crawled across the bed to the tray of food,and poured two cups of tea. There was no milk or sugar, not that hecared. He was too busy staring at her ankles. If anything, thesedays had led them to become quite comfortable in one another’spresence.
John sat and accepted a cup andbiscuit from her.
“How soon beforeEngland?”
“I don’t know. It willdepend on the weather, how far out of the way they have had to goto avoid the French. The trip could take two days to a week,depending.”
“A week?” Elizabethsqueaked. “What day is it?”
“The fourteenth.Why?”
“We can’t be in the Channela week.” If it were possible, John suspected Elizabeth would pace.Her agitation grew with each lapping wave outside the cabin window.“Grandfather expects me in Yorkshire by thetwenty-fourth.”
He had forgotten the message she’dreceived that started this whole escape off in the first place. Hadthey still been working in their previous roles, she would have notgone. He supposed now that they had to return to
