Edith Layton Read Online Free PDF Page A

might very well die before he could oblige his father by fulfilling his dearest desire. It made him very sad. It was such a soft, easy sorrow that he found himself drifting off into it.
    “Is there anyone who’ll be worried at not hearing from you?” she persisted.
    He frowned. He knew what she meant; there was no need for her to talk to him as though he were a child.
    “Is there anyone who’ll miss you if you don’t return?” she asked again.
    He sighed. “Yes, and no. That’s the problem, you see.”
    And then it got too dark for him to hear what she answered.

Three
    “N O,” HE SAID, PUTTING A HAND OVER THE CUP . “No more medicine, please.”
    Alexandria looked down at her patient in surprise. He hadn’t spoken in two days.
    “I woke early this morning,” he said, “before dawn. While you were still sleeping.” He smiled, wearily.
    She clutched her wrapper around her neck. She had made sure someone was always by him, even being certain someone slept at the side of his bed, since the doctor advised he never be left alone. She had come straight from her own bed to relieve Kit when the first faint stains of dawn touched the sky outside the window. When Kit left, shaking his head to let her know their patient hadn’t stirred, she’d settled in a chair and must have fallen asleep again. She woke, surprised at her lapse. But then, she’d had little sleep since he’d arrived. She went right to the bedside to see if her guest still breathed.
    But he did more, he spoke.
    “I had time to think,” he went on. “I realized every time I opened my mouth you put a sleeping draught in it. I’d rather be awake now.”
    He still looked pale and ill, of course. But she had to admit he didn’t look as though he were dying anymore. He’d obviously been in excellent condition before his accident. Slender as he was, he projected a sense of strength. The doctor and the boys had gotten him into one of their father’s old nightshirts. His shoulders stretched the shirt tight and the sleeves ended high above his wrists. Alexandria could only blush to think how short the garment probably was elsewhere on this tall gentleman.
    He’d been carefully groomed before his accident. Now his beard had begun to grow in, shadowing his face. His straight, jet-black hair flopped every which way around that long face because he’d been tossing and turning. But his eyes, those astonishing bright azure eyes, were clear and sane as he gazed at her. There was entreaty in them too.
    “The doctor said—” Alexandria began, but he cut her off.
    “Yes,” he said with a faint smile, “he said I must wake in order to drink soup and take my medicine, and sleep in order to heal. I heard him,” he said, noting her surprise. His lips twisted. “Sometimes. Between the drinking and the healing. I promise to be good, not thrash or run to delirium as the boys seem to fear I will do. Will you take me at my word? I’d rather not be drugged into submission anymore.”
    His smile was so winsome and wan, filled with humor and understanding, that she’d have allowed him anything in that moment.
    He saw it in her expression. “Good,” he sighed. “Now, if I may wash? Brush my teeth? And perhaps shave? It’s trivial, and the least of my woes, I know. But being unkempt makes me feel less like myself. I kept feeling this Methuselah’s beard of mine this morning. I was afraid I’d wake you the way my hand scraped over it.” He ran a hand over his chin again. “I could use a shears now, I think. I’m amazed how fast it’s grown. Or has it? How long have I been here?”
    “Two days—three now,” she corrected herself. “But of course. I’ll just go get you some water and shaving soap,” she said, glad of an excuse to leave the room, dress properly, and set herself to rights before she saw him again. She could feel her hair had come down, and she still wore her night robe and a wrapper.
    “I have razors in my kit,” he said quickly, “so