His Girl Friday

by Ellen March

  “She’s got to be alive.” His dark eyes were glazed with tears. “She’s just got to be.” Roman’s breath hitched and he swallowed, unable to breathe, unable to even contemplate life without Sally. How could I have failed to notice her holdall last night? he thought as he sprinted towards the stables.

  He grabbed a mare and flung on a bridle before he quickly mounted and galloped up the hill towards the moors at ground-breaking speed.

  Paul watched him go, praying that Sally was still alive.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Roman galloped hard and fast, occasionally stopping to cry out Sally’s name. He listened to the wind and the noise of birds on the breeze. Still there was no sign of Sally or the dogs. He was beginning to feel desperate and his stomach rebelled at the claw twisting deep inside. The fear ate into him as he thought of the rain lashing down last night.

  The fact that Sally was out in it was foremost in his mind. He couldn’t think of a reason why she wouldn’t have come back to the house when the rain started, unless she couldn’t feel it. And there could be only one reason for that.

  He rubbed at the burning sensation in his eyes and the moisture gathering there, surprised to find tears. He shook his head. He’d known that he loved her all along, and he prayed to God he’d have the chance to tell her.

  Stopping at another rise, he cupped his hands and called her name, then listened. He heard the faint barking of the dogs and raced towards the sound.

  From a distance, he spotted her body lying on the ground, the two shepherds barking yet refusing to leave her. With an aching heart he sped towards her and leaped off the mare before she’d even come to a halt.

  “Oh Christ, Sally,” he wept at her crumpled form. Her long, blonde hair was strewn around her saturated body and matted with blood. His hand shook as he felt for a pulse. He wiped at his tears, unable to fathom she’d been lying here all night. Her face was as white as alabaster. He touched her gently and her skin felt cold.

  He was trembling so much he panicked when he couldn’t feel anything. Then he swallowed and tried again, this time detecting a weak heartbeat. He was grateful that she’d had the dogs with her. He noticed that each side of her was dry where they had lain and not moved.

  Stroking her hair tenderly, he stared down into her face. He was afraid to move her in case she had any broken bones.

  “Sal?” he whispered. “It’s Roman.” He kissed her cold cheek. It felt like death.

  Suddenly her eyes fluttered open and she blinked at him blankly.

  “Oh, thank God.” The tears trailed down his cheeks as he stared at her beloved face.

  She squinted at him, trying to assemble her jumbled thoughts, and raised a shaky hand to touch his cheek. “Why are you crying?” Her voice was such a low whisper that he barely heard her.

  “Oh, Sal, I thought you were dead.” He brushed her wet hair back from her face. “I love you, Sal, so much.” He pressed a kiss against her pale lips.

  A semblance of a smile tugged at her mouth. “I’ve died,” she mumbled groggily.

  “No, Sal.” He held her hand, kissing her palm. “I love you so much it hurts, and I just thank God you’re safe.”

  “You told me to go.” She groaned as pain shot through her head, the bitter memory of the day before suddenly coming back.

  “Sal, forget what I said, just remember that I love you,” he urged, cupping her face. “Listen to me. Keep remembering that, you hear me?”

  Sally tried to move her head, a chill racking her body. “I’m so cold.” Her eyes glazed over.

  Roman ran his hands over her body, checking for injuries and broken bones.

  She moaned as he touched her ankle.

  “Sorry, love, I had to check. The rest of you looks okay.” He slid his hands beneath her. “I’ll try to take it easy, but I’ve got to get you back home and out of these soaking clothes.”

  Sally closed her eyes tiredly, wincing as he picked her up. She tried to wrap her arms around his neck but the effort was too much and she shook convulsively, the cold eating into her body.

  “I’m f-f-freezing,” she stammered through chattering teeth.

  Roman kissed the top of her head, realizing he had to get her back as soon as possible. He pulled the mare alongside a small mound and managed to get astride with Sally still in his arms and arranged her sitting backwards in front of him. Leaving the reins loose, he guided the mare with his legs as he held Sally close, trying to warm her shivering body. He thanked Christ that Marilyn had seen the bag or she’d certainly have died from hypothermia.

  On the ride home he dialled Paul. “I’ve found her. Run the bath and make it quick, I’m fetching her back. And ring Mac. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

  “Is she all right?” asked Paul, worried about the tone of Roman’s voice. With the mobile still clutched to his ear, he turned and ran down to the house.

  “Head wound, sprained ankle, and bloody freezing,” said Roman, thinking to himself that it was too much for any person to cope with. “But I need Mac to go over her. She’s in a pretty bad way, Paul.”

  The limpness of her body scared Roman. Her head occasionally fell back and her eyes closed. Each time he called her name, she would open them again, struggling to focus on him.

  “You’ll be fine, Sal, I promise.” A spasm of pain creased her pale face, and he prayed it was true. She’d fallen silent and hadn’t spoken since he’d found her drifting in and out of consciousness.

  As they reached the house, Marilyn came bustling out, her face a mask of worry. “Oh my, the poor lamb. I can’t believe she was out there all night.” She sobbed into her apron.

  Paul hovered nervously. The shepherds were strangely silent and subdued, their big brown eyes never moving from Sally. Roman flicked his leg over the side of the horse and jumped lightly to the ground, swearing when Sally cried out in pain.

  “Sorry, Sal.” The trembling shuddered through her body and he pulled her tightly to him.

  “Get her into that bath,” ordered Marilyn.

  With Sally in his arms, Roman strode inside and up the stairs, shouting to Paul. “Is Mac on his way?” Roman needed medical reassurance she was going to live.

  “Yeah, he’s on his way.” Paul said, and worry scored his features.

  * * *

  The bathroom was hot and steamy, and Roman sat on the ottoman. Still holding Sally, he began to peel off her clothes. All the while he cursed his insufferable temper, knowing she was in this state because of him.

  “You okay, love?” He didn’t like the silence that surrounded her as he dropped the last of her clothing to the floor.

  “I’m so tired,” she muttered, her eyes closing despite the tremors that assailed her body.

  “Stay with me, Sal,” he ordered gruffly, dipping her slowly into the steaming, hot bath and leaning her back gently. He soaked her body with a large sponge, cursing at the ugly bruises that covered her. A large red welt was seared across her shoulder. “You had one hell of a fall, I’ll say that for you.”

  Her eyes fluttered. “I missed my taxi.” She closed them again, not seeing the agony that shrouded his face.

  “Are you feeling warmer now?” He noticed her trembling had eased and her skin was suffused with a warm glow.

  Again she gave the merest glimpse of acknowledgement. Her eyes remained closed.

  “The doctor is on his way. Don’t worry,” he soothed, soaking her blood-streaked hair in the water in an attempt to wash it. Although he loved the length, he now cursed it. He tried not to hurt her as he slowly tipped her head back and rinsed her hair until the last of the red was gone. He stared at the ugly gash on the side of her head.

  “I’m sorry, Roman,” she said suddenly. Her eyes flicked open and she struggled to focus.

  “For what?”

  “For hurting you. I wouldn’t, I didn’t ….” She hesitated, trying to remember what she was going to say. The words had evaporated into obscurity.

  “Ssh, Sal, I kno
w all about it. I was the idiot. It’s me that should be apologising.” He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Come on, let me get you into bed.” He dipped his hands into the water and carefully lifted her out, standing her in front of him. One hand wrapped around her waist for support while the other snatched at a large towel. He quickly wrapped it around her and scooping her back into his arms before carrying her into his bedroom.

  After rubbing her dry, he laid her in his bed and pulled up the sheet. “I’ll get you something to wear. I don’t want Mac seeing you totally naked.”

  Within seconds he was back, afraid to leave her for long. He pulled on her panties and a T-shirt. Satisfied, he rifled about for the dryer. If she stayed in bed with her hair that wet she would definitely get pneumonia.

  “Sorry, Sal, I’ve got to do this,” he said as he sat behind her and propped her up against him. As he gently dried her hair, he was still worried about her silence. He wanted his Sal back, forthright and cheeky. When he finished, he helped her lie back down. Where is Mac? he thought worriedly. He held her hand and rubbed it, his gaze fixed on her pale face, so still with her eyes closed. She appeared almost dead.

  A sharp knock sounded and Paul walked in, followed by a middle-aged man with a thatch of red-grey hair and a large, handlebar moustache.

  “And what have we got here?” His was voice deep and booming. He stood by the bed, looking down at Sally. She lay against the pillow, pale and fragile, her golden hair spun out around her.

  “She had a fall last night. I didn’t find her until this morning.” Roman’s dark brown eyes were almost black with concern.

  Mac patted his shoulder. “Stop your worrying and let me have a look at her.” He spared a glance at Paul. “We’ll see you later.” Paul left and closed the door behind him.

  “This girl means a lot to you?” he observed, taking her pulse and checking her heartbeat. He’d known Roman for years and never thought he’d get seriously involved with any woman.

  “The world,” said Roman hoarsely. He just needed to know she was going to be all right.

  Mac pulled back the sheet and examined her body. Roman clenched his hands, not willing to share her intimately with anyone, even a doctor. He checked her head and vision, then took her temperature with a frown. All the while she remained deathly still and silent.

  “Seems a bit high, but not really surprising considering what she’s been through. She’s lucky to be alive.” Finally he pulled up the sheet. “Well, it’s a nasty cut but won’t need stitching. She has a concussion, but monitor it and make sure she rests, and she should be fine. She’ll be suffering from dizziness and headaches, but don’t give her any aspirin. We don’t want to encourage any bleeding, especially from the brain.”

  Roman sighed with relief at his words.

  “But I’m a bit concerned with the soaking she had. Keep a close eye on her over the next twenty-four hours. She could develop a fever or pneumonia.” His expression was serious. “And if she does, call me straight away. In her present weakened state, well ….” He left the sentence unfinished.

  “I see.” His words seared fear deep into Roman’s soul. “How do I know the difference?”

  “Well, one will see her hot and cold, while the other is going to affect her breathing. Trust me, you’ll know the difference,” he said solemnly. “If she’s hot, keep her cool, and vice versa. Hopefully she won’t take a turn for the worse. But if she develops breathing difficulties, then ring me or an ambulance immediately.”

  “Thanks, Mac. I won’t see you out. I’m not moving until I know she’s out of the woods.” He smoothed a lock of hair out of her sleeping face. He couldn’t help but think that she looked like death already.

  “She’s young and strong. She had to be in order to survive last night,” said Mac, noting the despair and worry that ravaged Roman’s features.

  Roman, his attention fully on Sally, barely noticed as the door clicked quietly shut.

  * * *

  The room was bathed in moonlight when he woke. He sat on the armchair beside the bed, his head resting against the side when he felt Sally move. In an instant he was awake. Her forehead was beaded with sweat as she tossed and turned restlessly. His worst nightmare was confirmed. He quickly pulled the sheet back before racing to the bathroom. He drenched a small towel in cold water then dabbed at her face, wiping it along her body. Yet she still burned hot. After lifting her up and removing her T-shirt, he hurried to the window and flung it open. Cool night air flowed into the room.

  Roman carried her to the window and leaned her against the sill, letting the chilled air cool her body. His muscles strained but he continued to stand there until he saw her red flush ease and her laboured breathing return to normal.

  He took her back to bed, covered her with a sheet and closed the window.

  “Come on, Sal. Get through this for me?” he whispered. “I love you, sweetheart.” Another tear gathered in his eye.

  Suddenly she fluttered her eyelids. “I love you, too.” It was barely a whisper. Her eyelids slid closed again.

  Roman felt the tears course down his face, unable to believe that she’d responded to his words.

  He sat watching her, unwilling to close his eyes. When her body began to tremble again, he stripped off and got into bed with her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him before he drew the quilt over their bodies. He held her tight as he continued to rub her shoulders and back until her shivering stopped.

  The first light of dawn spread her tentacles across the countryside. It was only when he knew Sally was through the worst that he allowed his eyes to close. Exhausted, he listened to her quiet breathing and slept, still holding her close.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sally lay in bed, drumming her fingers on the sheet. She glared at Roman, who sat casually reading the newspaper. Every so often he’d glance over to check on her.

  She was starting to feel suffocated by his bedside manner, which bordered on irrational and paranoid. For the last five days he hadn’t let her out of his sight, and as much as she loved his handsome face, she had to get it through his head that she wasn’t ill anymore.

  “Can I get up?” she asked again for the hundredth time.

  Roman shook his head. The look on his face alone was enough to show that he wouldn’t be swayed. He’d almost lost her and he wasn’t taking any chances.

  “Why not? It’s not as if I’m ill. Please, Roman?” she begged as she pushed back the sheet and swung out her legs.

  Dropping the paper, he was beside her before her feet hit the floor. He gently but firmly pushed her legs back beneath the cover of the sheet. Just touching her made him horny as hell, but he was determined to control himself until she had her health back, no matter how much he wanted her.

  “Sal, listen to me, you don’t realize how close you came to dying.” He stroked her hair back off her face, wanting nothing more than to join her in bed. “I’m just trying to take care of you. I don’t want you having a relapse.” He didn’t miss her pouting lip as she sulked moodily.

  “But I’m fine,” she said.

  “Sal, don’t argue. You’re staying in bed and that’s final,” he said firmly, determined to make her obey.

  “Is he still guarding you?” Paul laughed from the doorway. He entered the room and sat casually on the edge of the bed.

  “Off!” ordered Roman brusquely. He hovered beside the bed like an avenging angel. “I don’t want you hurting her.”

  Paul rolled his eyes and Sally tried not to laugh as he did as he was told.

  “So when are you coming downstairs?” he asked conversationally, glad to see her again. No one but Roman had been with her for the first three days, and only now was he relaxing his grip on his patient. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Paul would have teased him mercilessly for his devotion to her.

  “When she’s recovered and not before,” Roman said pointedly at Sally.

  “He thinks I’m still ill
. Now, do I look it?” Her eyes pleaded with Paul, needing his support.

  Paul shrugged his shoulders. If he were going to answer honestly, he’d say she looked a mess. Her face still pale and an ugly bruise covered her forehead. Her knuckles were scabbed over from the grazes she’d received. He dreaded to think what the rest of her body was like. “You look fine to me,” he lied, risking a glare from Roman.

  “See?” She turned and challenged Roman, who hovered protectively beside her bed. “Now, why can’t I get up?”

  “I’m not telling you again. Paul, I think it’s time you left.” He turned his attention towards the door.

  “I only just got here!”

  “Now!” ordered Roman, realizing Paul was Sally’s partner in crime.

  “Okay, okay.” Paul blew Sally a kiss. “See you after you’ve finished your sentence.” He darted away quickly before Roman could reply.

  “Close the door on the way out,” he shouted, giving Sally one last look. He sat down, picked up his paper, and began reading it again.

  Sally chewed her lip, wondering what she could do to make him change his mind. The other problem was that she wanted him. She was confused and worried by his lack of sexual interest. For a man with such a high sex drive, he showed no signs of desiring her. He hadn’t even touched her. In fact, he was treating her more like a sister than a lover.

  And that was another thing that bothered her. He hadn’t said he loved her again and she wondered if he’d only said it because he genuinely thought she was dying.

  She narrowed her eyes in his direction. She’d castrate him if that was the case, she thought testily. But then she thought of him naked and felt a warm surge of desire, one that wasn’t going away. It was even overriding her need to get up. The only thing on her mind now was getting Roman to respond. Smiling, she adjusted her pillow so she lay flat and closed her eyes.