The Hellion Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 2)

"Good, you're awake. I've brought you breakfast. I'll bring Jeremy along to see you once I make cer­tain you're in good enough condition not to scare the devil out of him. I had to let him see you the first time because he wouldn't believe that you were alive. But it did scare him; he was brave about it and continues to hold up well. I am proud of him and so should you be as well." He smiled at her as he spoke, and he was very matter-of-fact. The last thing she needed was an outpouring of sympathy and pity, and he knew it.

"I did what I thought best for him and for you. No, hold still. I'm going to lift you. Don't try to do anything yourself."

When she was propped up against the pillows, he set the tray on her legs. "Before you eat, perhaps you need to relieve yourself?"

"No," Sophie said, staring at the fork beside her plate.

"Don't be unnerved. It really doesn't suit you. Surely you can handle any impertinence out of a male mouth. Come now, after the long night you must have to—"

"All right, yes! Would you please take this tray and leave me alone."

He grinned down at her, pleased with her out­burst that brought color to her face, and called out, "Coco, come here and assist Miss Stanton-Greville."

He turned back to her. "I suppose you would like me to remove myself?"

"At the very least."

"Ah, it pleases me to allow you to resharpen your knifely wit on my poor male head."

She paled. It infuriated him. He leaned down, his hands on either side of her face. "Dammit, Sophie, don't think about your uncle! Lord, had I been with him, I wouldn't have stabbed him, I would have wrung his mangy throat. Now, stop it."

"You don't understand."

"I understand a lot more than you think I do."

She looked up at him, wondering, but afraid to ask him what he meant. "Thank you for keeping Jeremy away." He merely nodded and left the bedchamber.

When he returned, Sophie was eating her break­fast. No, he was wrong, she was actually pushing the soft baked yams around her plate. She didn't look quite as frightful as she had the day before or the day before that. He needed to examine her ribs, but he would wait a bit for that.

"Eat. I won't leave you alone until you finish every­thing. Does it hurt to swallow and chew? I imagined that it still did and that's why you have the soft yams again. I had Cook put some brown sugar on them."

"Thank you. They're quite good, really. I'm just not very hungry."

"You're worried and I told you not to. Eat."

"Why are you being like this?"

He turned toward the open wooden doors that gave onto the balcony. "Like what?" She waved her fork at him, winced because the slight movement brought her pain, and continued silent.

"Well, I really can't see myself making love to you in your current condition. No, don't throw the yams at me, you might hurt your ribs. I will tell you something. Even the bruises in all their splendid color are preferable to those cosmetics you smeared on your face."

"My uncle demanded the cosmetics. He said they made me look more like a woman should, more sophisticated."

"Yes, and I imagine you also had to use them to cover bruises. Am I right?"

"I will be well enough to travel very soon now."

"Oh? Where do you intend to travel to? A young girl with a little boy and no money?"

He regretted his sarcasm, though she'd deserved it, and said quickly, "I will decide what will be done after you're completely well again. You're not to con­cern yourself about anything. As I told you, Jeremy is just fine and I'm keeping a close watch on him. When I'm not with him, Emile or Samuel is. All right?"

"Why are you being so nice?"

"Does that come as a shock to you? I suppose you're really not used to nice men."

"No."

"Finish your breakfast and then we'll talk. It's time, don't you think? I cannot continue to battle shadows. I must know the truth."