Page 6

His eyes widened. Her dead brother’s clothes? Why did she have to tell him that? She was nothing if not honest, which was good to know, he supposed.

“How long will we stay here?”

“Until you are healed enough to walk a distance. Until the French have given up and gone away.”

He looked up at the ceiling. Was there a chance he might actually make it to the rendezvous point and get back to England? It seemed like an unattainable dream. “Thank you,” he said. “You saved my life, more than once I believe. How do I repay you?”

His angel looked over at him. “I demand three pigs, two goats, and a parcel of land.” She tried to look serious but was failing miserably.

He raised a brow. “Oh, I see. What, no milking cow?”

She laughed at that, and the sound made his heart beat faster, as if her laughter was also some kind of medicine. It warmed him like a good tot of rum would do. She was a marvel, a bloody marvel.

“Now we rest. Wake me if you feel ill and we will start the weaning process.”

“Your wish is my command.”

She frowned. “You may wish me to the devil when your body craves the poppy.”

He shifted around, trying to get comfortable, but every part of his body protested. To take his mind off his various injuries, he mentally wrote his mother a letter.

Dearest Mother,

I am alive despite the fact that I look like a walking corpse, which is fitting, I suppose, considering I am wearing a dead man’s pants and shirt. I smell over-ripe right now, so it’s fortunate you’re safe in England. Divine intervention has deprived me of death, and the angel who saved me is called Elena. She is so very clever, Mother. You would like her. I am apparently addicted to opium, so I will not be well for a few days, or so Elena says. I do hope to live through the next few days, despite a broken arm and a missing finger, so that I may return home to you and my dearest sister.

Keep a place for me at the dinner table. I am coming home.

Your most devoted son,

Thomas

If only he could deliver a letter without writing and physically transporting it. Sighing, he looked over at Elena. She was sound asleep. The dark circles beneath her eyes showed the dedication to his recovery. Her hair was the color of the straw they lay on, braided over her shoulder. He knew its texture would be of silk, not straw, and oh how he wanted to let it run through his fingers, or what was left of them. He wished he could repay her for her kindness, her ability to heal, and for selflessly taking him with her when she could have left him in that stinking hole of a room. His angel could have left him to the French to finish the job, but she hadn’t, and that meant a lot.

The fact that she slept so soundly when she had no reason to trust that he would not slit her throat while she napped showed courage. Foolish courage, but courage, nonetheless. And all right, he also was not physically able to even stand unaided, so he was unlikely to be able to make it within striking distance, anyway. Nor did he have a knife either. So, it was all a moot point, and likely she knew it.

He studied the woman as she slept. Her dress resembled a peasant’s. Though, as the daughter of a doctor, she must have been brought up in some luxury. What would happen to her when they parted? Would she go back to her old life? Was that even feasible now? He had tilted her whole world. She had no one to protect her, although the Lord knew she could hold her own, but he felt responsible. Not for the death of her brother or father, but because of him. The French had forced her into caring for him, disrupting whatever kind of life she had been living.

A gentleman always paid his debts, but how on earth could he ever compensate her?

Chapter Three

Elena knew he was watching her and wondered what he thought of her. Yes, she was bossy, but it was for his own good. When it came to his body, she knew best how to deal with it, and she suspected he thought his injuries would go away overnight, but that was not the case. It was not going to be easy to wean him off the poppy, but she would try her best to do it slowly to minimize the impact on his body. It had suffered enough. If he thought he was in pain now, she wondered how he would have coped without it.

Once he was feeling better, getting his strength back, she would have to be more wary of him. Tomas was a British soldier, and although she had saved his life, and he had thanked her many times for it, that did not mean he trusted her or that he was trustworthy. She had to hope that he would not forget that he owed her a great debt when he regained his health. Looking over at his still form, she took note of his breathing. It was nice and even, so she should sleep while she could. Once he got a craving for the poppy, she would not be able to sleep.

Elena slept fitfully, moans waking her some hours later. Tomas was thrashing around on the floor, clutching his stomach. Her first indication the poppy was wearing off. Getting to her feet and going straight to the table, she grabbed the dose she had made in preparation and made her way to his side. He stilled when she touched him, looking up at her, his eyes red-rimmed and his teeth gritted against the pain. He was sweating profusely but shaking with the chills.

“Make it stop. Make it bloody stop!” He flung his arm out as if to grab her, and she jumped back, out of reach.

Clutching the medicine bottle to her chest, she said, “I told you it would not be easy. Why did you not listen?”

“You did this to me.” His face was contorted in pain.

The guilt made her eyes water, but she refused to cry. “I know. I’m sorry, but it was necessary at the time.”

“Damn you, Elena.” Then he hurled up into the bucket next to him.

Once satisfied he had finished vomiting, she gave him the diluted dose. Elena returned to her side of the room, where she palmed the knife she had kept within reach, and watched as he shivered and shook for the next half hour. When finally he stopped, she gave him some water and wiped down his face with a cool cloth. She wondered how many days she would have to go through this ritual before he no longer needed her assistance.