Chapter 23
I n the week and a half since Pandora had returned home, she’d wondered more than once if they’d sent the wrong husband back from the clinic with her.
It wasn’t that Gabriel was indifferent or cold.
.. in fact, no man could have been more attentive.
He insisted on taking care of her himself, seeing to her most intimate needs and doing everything humanly possible to ensure her comfort.
He had changed her wound dressing, gave her sponge baths, read to her, and massaged her feet and legs for long, blissful intervals to improve her circulation.
He had insisted on feeding her, patiently spooning beef tea or fruit ices or blancmange into her mouth.
Blancmange, incidentally, had turned out to be a revelation.
Everything she thought she’d disliked before, its mildness, its whiteness, and lack of texture, turned out to be the best things about it.
Although Pandora could easily have fed herself, Gabriel had refused to let her have the spoon.
It had taken two full days before she’d managed to wrest it from him.
And flatware was the least of her concerns.
Gabriel had once been the most charming man in the world, but now all his irreverent humor and playfulness had vanished.
There was no more flirtation, no teasing and joking.
.. only this unending quiet stoicism that was beginning to feel a bit grueling.
She understood he had been deeply worried for her sake, and was concerned about potential setbacks to her recovery, but she missed the Gabriel of before.
She missed the private energy of attraction and humor that used to connect them in an invisible current.
And now that she was feeling better, the iron control he exerted over every minute of her day was beginning to make her feel a little hemmed in. Trapped, actually.
When she complained to Garrett Gibson, who visited daily to assess her progress, the doctor surprised her by taking Gabriel’s side.
“He experienced a great mental and emotional shock,” Garrett explained.
“In a way, he’s been wounded, too, and needs time to recover.
Invisible wounds can sometimes be as devastating as physical ones. ”
“But he will go back to the way he was?” Pandora asked hopefully.
“I expect so, for the most part. However, he’s acquired an awareness of how tenuous life can be. A life-threatening illness tends to change our perspective on one particular thing.”
“Blancmange?” Pandora guessed.
Garrett smiled. “Time.”
Pandora gave a resigned sigh. “I’ll try to be patient with him, but he’s being cautious in the extreme.
He won’t let me read novels with adventure plots because he’s afraid it will raise my blood pressure.
He has everyone in the house tiptoeing and whispering so I won’t be disturbed by noise.
Every time someone visits, he hovers and watches the clock to make certain they don’t overtire me.
He won’t even kiss me properly, only gives me dry little pecks as if I were his second-favorite great aunt. ”
“He may be overdoing it,” Garrett conceded. “It’s been two weeks, and you’re doing well. There’s no more need for pain medication, and your appetite has returned. I think you would benefit from some limited activity. Excessive bed rest can lead to weakened muscles and bones.”
There was a knock at the bedroom door. “Come in,” Pandora called out, and Gabriel entered the room.
“Good afternoon, Dr. Gibson.” His gaze went to Pandora. “How is she?”
“Healing fast,” Garrett said with quiet satisfaction. “No signs of aneurysm, hematoma, edema, or fever.”
“When can I begin to go on outings?” Pandora asked.
“Starting tomorrow, I think limited outings would be acceptable. Perhaps you might start with something easy, such as visiting your sisters, or going to the tea room at Winterborne’s.”
Gabriel’s expression turned thunderous. “You propose to let her outside the house ? Exposing her to filthy public places swarming with germs, bacteria, vermin, street manure—”
“For heaven’s sake,” Pandora protested, “I’m not planning to run out and start rolling on the pavement.”
“What about her wound?” Gabriel demanded.
“The wound has closed,” Garrett said. “My lord, although your caution is understandable, Pandora can’t be kept in a sterile environment forever.”
“I think—” Pandora began, but her husband paid no attention.
“What if she falls? What if someone accidentally bumps into her? And what about the bastard who ordered the attack? Just because Mrs. O’Cairre is in custody doesn’t mean Pandora is safe. He’ll send someone else. ”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Garrett admitted. “Obviously I can’t speak to the issue of homicidal conspirators.”
“Dragon will be with me,” Pandora pointed out.
“He’ll protect me.” When Gabriel didn’t reply, only gave her a stone-faced glance, she said in the most reasonable tone she could muster, “I can’t stay cooped up in the house for much longer.
I’m far behind on my production schedule.
If I could just go out every now and then—”
“I’ve already told Winterborne the board game won’t be ready in time for Christmas,” Gabriel said brusquely, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. “You’ll have to come up with a new production schedule. Later, when your health permits.”
Pandora stared at him in astonishment.
His control was going to extend to her business. He was going to decide when and how much she could work, and oblige her to ask his permission for whatever she wanted to do, all in the name of protecting her health. She felt her temper erupt.
“You had no right to do that,” she cried. “It wasn’t your decision to make!”
“It is when your health is at stake.”
“Dr. Gibson just said I could go on limited outings.”
“The first time you went out, you became mixed up with a group of radical political terrorists.”
“That could have happened to anyone!”
His expression was unyielding. “But it happened to you.”
“Are you saying it was my fault?” Pandora stared in astonishment at the cold-eyed stranger at the foot of her bed, who had changed from husband to enemy with bewildering suddenness .
“No, I’m saying—damn it—Pandora, calm down.”
She was struggling to breathe, blinking against the rage that misted her vision in a hot red cloud. “How can I calm down when you’re breaking your promises to me? This is what I was afraid of. This is what I told you I didn’t want!”
His voice changed, becoming hushed and urgent. “Pandora, take a deep breath. Please. You’ll work yourself into hysterics.” He turned to Dr. Gibson with a quiet curse. “Can you give her something?”
“No,” Pandora cried wrathfully. “He won’t be satisfied until I’m kept sedated in the attic with an ankle manacled to the floor.”
The physician regarded them thoughtfully, looking from one to the other as if watching a game of lawn tennis. She approached the bedside, reached into her leather doctor’s bag, and pulled out a prescription pad and pencil. In a businesslike manner, she wrote a prescription, and gave it to Pandora.
Fuming, Pandora looked down at the slip of paper.
Take one overwrought husband and administer compulsory bed rest. Apply as many embraces and kisses as necessary until symptoms are relieved. Repeat as needed.
“You can’t be serious,” Pandora said, looking up at Garrett Gibson’s composed face.
“I suggest you follow it to the letter.”
Pandora scowled. “I’d rather have an enema.”
The doctor turned away, but not before Pandora saw the flash of a grin. “I’ll stop by tomorrow, as usual.”
Both husband and wife remained silent until Garrett Gibson left the room and closed the door .
“Hand me the prescription,” Gabriel said curtly. “I’ll have Dragon take it to the apothecary.”
“I’ll tell him,” Pandora replied through gritted teeth.
“Fine.” He went to straighten the haphazard collection of items on the table near the bed, cups and tumblers, books, letters, pencils and blank paper, playing cards, and a little hand-bell that Pandora had yet to use because she was never left alone long enough to need someone.
She slanted a mutinous glance up at her husband.
He wasn’t overwrought, he was over bearing .
But as she stared more closely at him, she saw the smudges of shadows beneath his eyes, and the lines of strain, and the tense set of his mouth.
Gabriel looked tired and grim, restless beneath the surface.
It occurred to her that, along with his constant worrying over her, two weeks of celibacy had not brought out the best in his character.
She thought of those brief, dry kisses he’d been giving her. How nice it would feel if he held her, really held her, and kissed her the way he used to. As if he loved her.
Love... he often used the word as an endearment.
He’d demonstrated his feelings a thousand ways, but he’d never actually said those three simple words.
As for her... she was the wallflower who’d somehow caught the handsomest man at the ball, the man everyone wanted.
Obviously it wasn’t fair for her to be the one to take the risk.
But someone had to.
As she watched while Gabriel sorted through the medicine spoons, she decided to take the bull by the horns.
“You probably already know this,” she said bluntly, “but I love you. In fact, I love you so much that I don’t mind your monotonous handsomeness, your prejudice against certain root vegetables, or your strange preoccupation with spoon-feeding me.
I’m never going to obey you. But I’m always going to love you. ”
The declaration wasn’t exactly poetic, but it seemed to be what he’d needed to hear.