Red Roses Mean Love Read Online Free PDF Page B

Warmth, compassion, and concern flowed from her gaze like a coating of honey. When was the last time someone had looked at him like that? Never.
    A full minute passed before he rasped out, "My horse?"
    A smile touched her lips. "Your horse is doing well. He's the finest animal I've ever seen. And one of the smartest—he led us to you. He suffered a cut on his foreleg and some minor scratches, but they're nearly healed. He is being very well taken care of, I promise you." She reached out and took his hand, gently squeezing it between her palms. "You must not worry about anything. Just concentrate on getting better and regaining your strength."
    "Hurts." He swallowed. "Tired."
    "I know, but the worst is over. What you need now is food and sleep. Are you hungry?"
    "No." He watched her add several drops of medicine to a fresh glass of water. She lifted his head so he could drink, then settled him back on the pillow.
    "I've given you some laudanum for the pain. It will also help you sleep." She laid a hand on his forehead.
    Stephen felt her gentle touch and suddenly remembered why she seemed so familiar. "Angel," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed. "Angel."
    * * *
    Several hours later Hayley joined the family at breakfast.
    "I have good news, everyone," she reported to the group, her face beaming a smile. "It appears our patient is going to recover. He awoke earlier for a short spell and we spoke. I checked on him just before I came down. He's sleeping and shows no signs of fever." And his eyes are green. A beautiful mossy green. Like a forest at twilight.
    "That's wonderful news, Miss Hayley," Grimsley said, placing a huge platter of scrambled eggs and kippers on the table.
    "Yes indeed," piped in fourteen-year-old Andrew. "Do you suppose the bloke knows how to play chess? Nathan's an awful player." Andrew shot his younger brother a withering glance.
    "The man's name is Stephen, not 'the bloke,'" Hayley informed her brother with a warning glance. She supposed she should be grateful Andrew didn't call him the scurvy, bloody bloke.
    "Do you think he likes tea parties, Hayley?" six-year-old Callie asked, her blue eyes shining bright with hope.
    "Of course he doesn't like tea parties," cut in Nathan. He rolled his eyes with all the masculine disgust an eleven year old could muster. "He's a man, not a—"
    "That's enough, Nathan," Hayley admonished in a tone that immediately halted the boy's words. She turned to Callie and rumpled the child's dark curls. "I'm sure he loves tea."
    Nathan and Andrew grunted. Callie beamed.
    Winston entered the room dressed in workman's pants and shirt. At Hayley's insistence, he and Grimsley took their meals in the dining room. No one stood on ceremony at Albright Cottage, and the two men were like members of the family.
    She greeted the ex-sailor with a fond smile, forcing herself not to laugh outright at his expression. He looked grumpy. Just like a bear awakened before his hibernation was complete.
    "Good morning, Winston. I have good news. The man is awake and his fever is gone."
    Winston shook his head and pointed a beefy finger at Hayley. "Chain me to the gunwale and slap me with the sextant! I hope 'e ain't no murderer. We dragged 'im in here, saved 'is miserable life, and now we got to pray he ain't some criminal who'll kill us while we sleep. Looks like a cutthroat to me, he does. I traveled enough voyages with your pa, God rest his soul, to know a blackguard when I sees one. I'll kill 'im with me bare hands. I'll—"
    "I'm certain that won't be necessary," Hayley broke in, barely suppressing her urge to laugh. "He looks like a very nice man."
    "He looks like a scurvy bum," Winston grumbled.
    "Did the man say anything, Hayley?" Pamela asked in an obvious attempt to change the direction of the conversation.
    "He only spoke a few words. He was in pain, so I gave him a bit of laudanum. Perhaps he'll feel better later this morning."
    Aunt Olivia looked up, her face a study of confusion.