“Certainly. Gertie will return in a moment with what you need,” Max responded.
The door closed.
Maggie shuddered and tried to relax her head back into the pillow, closing her eyes and allowing the tension to leave her neck and shoulders. It was easier to lay still and close her eyes, to just go back to when he was here moments before. She wanted to see his face again.
Max was just as she remembered him. Tall with crystal blue eyes, an aristocratic nose, a strong squared chin, and a mass of thick brown wavy hair that still hung to his collar. He used to joke about how she was the perfect size for him. Lithe and a little taller than most women, Maggie loved to gaze at him when she did not think he saw her looking.
Her fingers ached to touch him again, but after what had transpired between them, she could not afford to do that. The last thing she wanted was to cause Max more heartache. As much as she wanted to be near him, she needed to leave.
“I am glad to see ye awake, milady. Everyone has been anxious about ye. I am Dr. Perth.”
Someone was speaking to her and it was not Max. Her eyelids quivered and opened. She looked around slowly, surveying the room. She had been here before. The room cheered her bruised body and heart. The bed had a cream lace canopy. Pink velvet curtains covered the two windows on the wall to the right of her, and the cheery pink and blue floral wallpaper lent a feeling of familiarity. She struggled to remember, scrunching her face with effort.
The doctor arched a brow and scrutinized her face. “Ye appear to have had a tough go at it. Can ye tell me what hurts?”
At the moment, everything hurt. Nerves. Her head hurt, her eyelids hurt, her stomach hurt—most likely from hunger—and her arms and legs felt like jelly. “To be truthful, Doctor…Perth, everything.” She touched a lump on her forehead.
“Aye. I see the cut. Did ye fall? Can you tell me what happened, milady?”
Maggie tried to recall. Shutting her eyes, her thoughts drifted back. She remembered being at her family home but keeping it dark. They had been alone there for days until the storm. She thought she heard a window noises downstairs and crept down the staircase, holding Shep close to her chest. On her way down, she had heard a loud noise like something dropped to the floor in her father’s library. She set Shep down and pointed to the door for Shep to stay and be still. He had always seemed to understand her. Peering around the corner of the doorway, she had spotted a tall man in a dark cape going through her father’s books, shaking them and tossing them to his desk. The waning moonlight from the window illuminated him, giving her the advantage of seeing him first. Lightning flashed and thunder crashed outside, startling Shep, and he barked. The man looked over and saw the two of them.
Her sudden appearance must have startled him, because he shoved the book he had been looking at into a satchel and rounded her father’s desk toward her. When he got close, Shep leaped at him, attacking and biting his leg. The man kicked her dog, trying to throw him off. When he withdrew a knife from his vest pocket, she grabbed her father’s brass-handled fire poker and hit him when his back was turned, knocking him down before grabbing her dog and running from the room.
She had stumbled while running away and hit her head. She had expected the stranger to catch her, but instead he ran toward the iron latticed gate. Shep was free and ran after him. He kicked at Shep when her dog got too close, but Shep refused to give up the chase. She cried out for her dog to come back, fearing he would be lost, killed, or both. Time had stood still until she saw a man on a horse coming from the dark end of the road, riding slowly toward her in the pouring rain.
“I was running and fell. I am not sure what I hit.”
“Hmmm…” He rubbed his hands over the still slightly rounded and tender flesh of her stomach. “Do ye recall anything else?” The doctor gently probed as he checked her forehead, dabbing a towel in cold water.
“No. I saw a man on a horse riding toward me. I was wet and cold and could barely hold my head up when he came upon us. I do not remember how it happened, but I am here now.” Why did she not tell him about the man in her father’s library?
“Ye will need stitches on this cut. ’Tis pretty deep.” The doctor leaned over the bed to look at the cut. “I see no debris. ’Tis a good thing it’s by the hairline so the scar will be small.” He lightly touched the area around her wound, watching her reaction. She tried to hold to a wince. Taking out his stethoscope, he bent over her chest and used the wooden instrument to listen to her heart. “Take deep breaths in and out slowly. Mmm…strong beats, steady. Very good.” A moment later, the doctor laid down his stethoscope and picked up her hands, slowly turning them over. “Rope burns,” he murmured to himself as he perused her wounds. “’Tis as Lord Worsley described.” His expression turned more serious. “Seems a bit strange that the cut on your head would make ye cry out in pain in your sleep, though. I would like to check your ribs and your stomach. I will ask Lady Worsley to return to the room to assist if ye have no objection.”
Every inch of her body throbbed in pain. She wanted to object to everything, but she nodded and said nothing. Rope burns. She remembered freeing herself and running. Falling repeatedly and running, trying to escape and fearing for her
