“Damian, what—what happened?”
“You fainted, glyka mou. My fault. I apologize.”
She closed her eyes, then opened them again. This time, the confusion was gone.
Anger had taken its place.
“I remember now. I unlocked the door and—”
“You saw me.”
“How did you get in here? I never leave the door unlocked!”
“The super let me in.” His mouth twisted. “A story about being your long-lost brother and a hundred-dollar bill melted his heart.”
“You had no right—”
“Unfortunately you don’t have a back entrance and a flight of service steps,” he said dryly.
“It’s hardly the same thing.”
“It’s exactly the same thing.”
Ivy stiffened in his arms. “Please put me down.”
“Would you prefer the bedroom or the sofa?”
“I would prefer my feet on the floor.”
He almost laughed. She was still pale but there was no mistaking the indignation in her voice.
“You will lie down while I phone for a doctor.”
Ivy shook her head. “I don’t need a doctor. I fainted, that’s all.”
She was right. He decided not to argue. They’d have enough to argue over in a little while.
“You’re a stubborn woman, Miss Madison.”
“Not half as stubborn as you, Your Highness.”
Damian carried her to a small, brocade-covered sofa and sat her on it.
“Amazing, how you manage to make ‘Your Highness’ sound like a four-letter word. No. Do not even try to stand up. I’m going to get a cold compress.”
“I told you—”
“And I’m telling you, sit there and behave yourself.”
He strode off, found a towel in the kitchen, filled it with ice and returned to the living room, surprised to find she’d heeded his warning.
It was, he thought, a bad sign.
Almost as bad as the feverish color that was replacing the pallor in her skin. He wanted to take her in his arms, hold her close, tell her he was sorry he’d frightened her…
Hell.
“Here,” he said brusquely, thrusting the ice-filled towel into her hands.