Chapter Ten

      ‘And you will rest for at least two days?’

      Rhys gave a heavy sigh. Thea watched him suspiciously. He sounded as though he was reluctantly allowing himself to be persuaded. ‘Two nights, certainly. And you and Benton can explore the city, if he feels well enough. I’ll spend tomorrow lying down,’ Rhys added. ‘I’ll probably go mad with boredom, but it is no doubt sensible.’

      That was so unlike Rhys. Perhaps he really had changed with the years, for she would have sworn he would do anything rather than admit to weakness.

      ‘Giles says his headache is better already and the doctor does not think he has a concussion, so if you do not need us, it will be amusing to explore.’ She reached for a towel and tried to pat his hands dry.

      Rhys twitched it out of her grasp. ‘Don’t fuss, Thea. I’m indestructible—you should know that by now.’

      And yet you meekly agree to rest? ‘Don’t say that and tempt fate.’ She met his eyes, saw thoughts there she could not decipher and felt the colour rise to her cheeks. ‘I am sorry I burst in here when you were…had just got out of your bath. I had no wish to put you to the blush.’ Rhys raised one eyebrow and she laughed. ‘I suppose managing that is quite a challenge! But I made you uncomfortable, I know that.’

      It had certainly made her uncomfortable. The shock of seeing his elegant, muscled back, and then the realisation of how much those vicious bruises and splits across the skin must hurt, had left her dizzy with a mixture of desire, horror and admiration for Rhys’s stoicism.

      Thea got up and walked across to the bed where his shirt was laid ready. She found she was shivering. Perhaps it was delayed shock after the accident, or perhaps the realisation of just how much danger they had been in under that carriage. She let her fingertips trail over the soft linen. Yes, both those things, but most of all, the impact of finding herself alone with Rhys when he was almost naked.

      ‘You had better put this on. I’ll help you so you do not dislodge the dressings.’ She gathered it up in her hands as fiercely as she gathered her self-control and turned, her expression schooled into the one of slightly harassed practicality she knew he’d recognise.

      Rhys still sat on the edge of the table, which brought them almost eye to eye. He bent his head for her to drop the shirt over, then threaded his hands into the sleeves, a little clumsy because of the strapping. For some reason that made her vision blur with sudden tears. I might have lost him.

      Thea swallowed and reached to straighten the collar where it had rucked up at the back of his neck. With Rhys so close she could feel the warmth of his skin against her chest, see the laughter lines at the corner of his eyes, paler against his faintly tanned skin. What joys had caused that laughter? And what concerns had etched the faint lines between his brows and at the corners of his lips? Rhys had an entire, adult life she knew nothing of. Her fingers brushed the ends of his hair as she fussed with the collar.

      Her composure seemed to unravel as though he had tugged a string, and yet he had not moved or spoken. ‘I was worried about you,’ Thea said abruptly. Before she could think she was clinging to him, her arms tight around his neck, her face buried in his shirtfront. ‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled into the cloth. ‘But when the diligence collapsed I thought you were still under it.’