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He doesn’t look like he believes me, but he drops his hand, anyway. My nipples pebble at the coolness of the air, and I press my legs together.
“Why am I naked?” I murmur. Red stains his cheeks as he glances away.
“If ye were fevered, I thought ye’d need to be naked,” he explains, and my brows lift.
“Does that help with fevers?” He shrugs, but a smile tugs at his lips.
“I might’ve wanted to see ye naked as well.”
I smile smugly as I recline back onto the bed, folding my arm under my head. “And? Like what you see?”
His gaze shifts back to me, heated as he lets his eyes travel down my body. They linger on my boobies, and my stomach does a wild somersault.
Instead of reaching for me, he shakes his head. “Stay here,” he says firmly as he stands. “I’ll make you something to eat.”
“You don’t know how to use electric stoves or?—”
“I’ll figure it out.” He waves at me to stay put, but doesn’t move toward the door. A soft sigh leaves him as he sits back on the bed, this time averting his gaze from my chesticles. “Ye really scared me, Lyric. I thought something—something terrible happened. I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I had to protect you—” He shakes his head again, his brows creasing as he squeezes his eyes shut. “I was scared when ye didn’t wake up. Thought I lost ye already.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I tease, but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “Blood makes me queasy.” I don’t know why I’m so ashamed to admit that, like it’s some kind of shortcoming. “I’m sorry.”
His head whips toward me, his eyes wide. “Never apologize for that.” His voice is firm, his face like stone. “You’re perfect. Ye should never apologize for anything.”
Reaching out, he cups my face gently in his hand, and I lean into his warm touch. There’s only a moment of hesitation before he leans forward and presses his lips to my cheek.
“Rest,” he says softly. And I do.
I lay back again and watch as he makes his way from the room, giving me a final, long look before disappearing into the living room. I stare up at the ceiling, my wounded hands resting on my stomach.
Pots and pans clank together as Ian rustles around in the kitchen. I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face as I listen to him mutter to himself, trying to figure out how to use the things this world has to offer.
Maybe marrying him won’t be so bad after all.
