“Not at Havistock darling. You will never be a guest here.”
Isobel tried to understand the significance of his words, but found her eyelids just wouldn’t cooperate. Making a mental note to ask him about it later, she fell into a deep healing sleep once more, content in the knowledge that he was nearby.
CHAPTER FIVE
Three and a half weeks later Isobel was feeling decidedly out of sorts. Despite her lingering weakness, being confined to bed was boring to say the least. She longed to be outside in the fresh air. It felt like she had spent most of the first few weeks at Dominic’s home either eating or sleeping, but could remember very little about it.
For the past few days she had been wide awake, and was now fighting growing frustration at her lack of activity.
She was so very sick of being tired and sick of being stuck in the bed.
Days were spent just lying in bed leaving her feeling more tired than she had when she had been walking all day!
Her wracking cough seemed to be getting worse instead of better.
It took every ounce of effort just to breathe, something she had managed to do so easily for all of her life seemed just so damned difficult.
If she ate any more of that infernal broth Cook insisted on sending up, she would throw the next bowl out of the window and be done with it!
Aaahhhh!
She fought the urge to thump her fists against the bed in temper, and glared moodily out of the window at the snow-covered ground.
Dominic, bless his heart, was becoming a pest. Whenever she awoke he was seated beside the bed, either stroking her hair or holding her hand. Always present while she slept. On a couple of occasions, she awoke to find him softly snoring in the chair beside the bed. The dark shadows beneath his eyes testament to his own tiredness that he seemingly refused to succumb to.
When she did wake up to find him in the chair, he had remained with her for a short time, patiently answering a plethora of questions as frankly as he could. He would sit and converse with her for quite a long time before taking his leave, ostensibly to allow her to rest.
By evening they would dine together, when he would gently tease smiles out of her if she was feeling decidedly glum, and patiently fill in parts of her arrival at the house that she couldn’t remember. Despite his generosity and kindness, she always considered there was something he was waiting for, something he was withholding from her, yet she couldn’t think of what that might be. Nor did she know how to ask him.
Maybe he was waiting for her to vacate his bed? But he had placed her there and wouldn’t consider moving her to a guest suite whenever she had suggested it, so what could be wrong?
Over the past couple of days, she was aware of a growing expectation that was driving her mad. Only this morning he had paid her a customary visit only for the tension between them to be palpable. Conversation, usually flowing and familiar, had become stilted and awkward. It was as though both of them had things they wanted to say, yet were loathed to broach the subjects they so desperately needed to raise.
She was frowning thoughtfully at the heavy snowfall beyond the window, when as though sensing her disquiet, he appeared in the doorway.
“What’s wrong my dear?” Dominic queried, eyeing the disgruntled scowl upon her face. He fought the urge to smile when she turned her fierce frown in his direction. Clearly, she was distinctly put out at something. Whatever had outraged her so much, had given her the first tinge of colour to her cheeks that he had seen since her arrival in his house. Her eyes spat shards of angry blue fire as she stared moodily at him. She reminded him of a disgruntled kitten. He knew that should he venture too far, he was very likely to get scratched.
Still, he was curious to discover how far he could go before his kitten scratched him. Swallowing his smile, he leaned a nonchalant shoulder against the door jam and raised a sardonic brow. It was good to see her positively bristling with temper. It was a sign she was returning to good heath.
Isobel pointedly ignored his question, instead glared at his cheerfulness. “You seem decidedly chirpy today,” she grumbled, eyeing his windswept ruggedness as he slowly sauntered across the room. God, he was handsome. Isobel eyed his tall frame as he casually wandered towards her.
“I have a lot to be chirpy about,” Dominic replied smoothly as he sat in his customary chair beside the bed. “What are you so disgruntled about?”
“I am so very fed up of being in this bed!” Isobel replied, giving in to a burst of temper. “It is time I got up.” Her scowl deepened as he slowly shook his head.
“You are not ready yet. You may have a relapse or something,” Dominic casually propped his booted feet atop of the covers she was trying to pull back, firmly securing her underneath.
Isobel sighed, eyeing his booted feet with disdain. Briefly, she considered thwacking his ankles until he removed them but eyeing his long length sprawled so comfortably in the chair, she just couldn’t find the heart to do so. Still, that couldn’t detract on her dissatisfaction with her weakened state.
“I am more likely to have a relapse if I lay in this bed much longer.” She knew she sounded waspish and ungrateful, but felt driven by something that refused to allow her to settle. “I want to get up. I have to get up. It’s driving me crazy being stuck in here.”
“I can understand my dear,” Dominic replied sympathetically. Given the length of time she had been recovering, he could fully understand her mounting frustration.
“Can you?” Her tone was dismissive. She felt certain he couldn’t understand just how sick of feeling useless she was.
“Yes. When I was injured in Spain, I was tended to by the locals. At first, I couldn’t move much. The inactivity of lying there day after day was impossible to cope with and I was only lying there for a week before I was moved to a ship and brought home.”
Isobel sat enthralled, suddenly too afraid to move and stop his confidences. It was the first time he had opened up to her about his injuries, which she knew he had sustained.