by Maddy Barone
Snow stood close to Sky, speaking quietly into his ear. Sky nodded from time to time, face expressionless. Amanda barely noticed them because the waiting room door opened, and Sara came back, her hand firmly clamped around the arm of a man wearing a blood smeared white apron over his clothes. With them walked elderly Sister Roberta, wrinkled face set in its usual stern expression.
“Cousin,” Sara said in voice like a general giving orders on the battlefield. “This is Dr. Rogers. Sam, this is my cousin, Amanda Wolfe.”
The doctor looked tired. He shook Amanda’s hand, and nodded at Sky and Snow who came forward. “Your husband is out of surgery. We’ve removed the bullet fragments and done as much repair as we could.”
Amanda clenched her hands together to control the tremble. “They said before that his lung was hit?”
“His lung hasn’t collapsed. It is a concern, however. We don’t know if our repairs will be enough for him to fully recover.”
Sky put a hand on her shoulder. “Mandy,” he said, and for once she didn’t hate the nickname. “He’ll recover. I told you, we’re strong.”
“You must trust in God,” the nun told her. “Pray to Our Lady for your husband’s recovery.”
Amanda was saved from making a very impious retort by the door opening yet again. Her mouth fell open when Judge John Case walked in, followed by Lieutenant Dean Erikson.
“I understand someone attacked Sand Wolfe tonight,” Johnny boomed. “I think I know who. I’m here to write an arrest warrant for Terry Askup.”
Amanda gulped and shot Sky a glance. Seeing Terry locked up would give her a lot of satisfaction. Pissing Mayor McGrath off could result in widowhood for her and trouble for Sky. Sky moved smoothly toward Johnny and led him out of the waiting room. Dean looked from their retreating backs to her.
“What’s that about?” he asked.
She considered whether or not to be honest and decided on honesty. “We don’t have any proof of who paid to kill Sand and steal me.”
He grunted. “Terry Askup is a logical suspect. He should be questioned.”
“Yeah,” Amanda agreed. “But do you know what would happen if you arrested him?”
Dean’s expression didn’t change. “Hmm,” he said, before turning and following Sky and Johnny out into the hall.
Sara tugged her arm. “Come on. Sand will be awake soon. You should be there.”
When Amanda walked into the small room where Sand lay recovering, her heart clenched. He looked so helpless lying in the narrow bed with the blanket folded down to his waist to reveal the bandage wound around his chest. Sara whispered for her to take the chair by the bed and told the nurse she would take over. The male nurse hesitated, then left.
Amanda traced her husband’s pale face with her gaze, following the line of his eyebrow to his high cheekbone to the straight, stubborn line of his jaw. From the first moment she’d met him in the hall outside her room, she’d thought him handsome. She remembered the first time she saw his chipped tooth. It could have detracted from his looks —maybe even should have— but it didn’t. That one slight flaw kept him from being too perfect. And now that she’d grown to know him, she found his face the most wonderful and beautiful art in the world. Love rushed through her like a tidal wave, crashing over her heart and washing down to her fingertips.
“Oh, Sand, I love you,” she whispered.
The corner of his mouth twitched. His mouth tightened into a white line. Amanda leaned forward to try to take his hand, but Sara pushed her unceremoniously out of the way. The younger woman lifted Sand a few inches and tilted his head so he vomited into the basin she held for him. She held him steady until he was finished then deftly wiped his face with a wet rag.
Amanda swallowed hard, trying to control her own gag reflex. Sara held a glass of water for Sand to sip.
“Now, spit,” she ordered, holding the basin.
He obeyed, and was laid back down. Sara thrust a clean basin into Amanda’s hands. “Here. In case he’s not done. I’ll be right back.”
She walked away holding the used basin and leaving Amanda clutching the fresh one. Her efficiency was almost frightening. Amanda looked at Sand. His face was gray except for the flush on his cheeks.
“Are you okay?” she whispered.
His eyes flicked open. “I’m done puking. I think. Where are we?”
“Hospital. They did surgery to remove the bullet. It broke inside you and they had to take the fragments out.”
“Oh. That’s why it hurts.” He closed his eyes again for a long minute before opening them again. “If Sky wants to keep the wolf secret, I have to get out of here before they notice how fast I heal.”
“You can’t leave for a while,” Amanda began, but she broke off when Sara came back in, wiping the basin dry.
Sand turned his head to look at the teenager. “Cousin, you are a good nurse. You took care of me quickly and kindly, without hurting me. Thank you.”
“Yes,” Amanda agreed. “I’ve never seen you do your work at the hospital. I’m impressed.”
A flush of pleasure rose in Sara’s cheeks. She ducked her head like a shy toddler. “Will you tell Stone about it? He said I need to grow up and learn to care about someone besides myself.”
Amanda’s head snapped up with outrage. “He said what?”
Sara looked up, lips pressed tight together. “Nursing is the best way I could think of to do that. I’ve only just starting training six weeks ago, but I’ve learned a lot already.”
“Yes, you have!” Amanda said. “You whipped that pan out like a professional.”
Sara’s brown eyes began to shine with tears. “Thank you. I’m trying.” She looked at Sand. “Tell him that, okay? Tell him I’m trying.”
“I will,” Sand promised. “How soon can I leave?”
Sara sniffed the tears back. “That’s up to the doctor. Four or five days, I’d guess.”
“It’s got to be sooner than that. Tomorrow at the latest.”
Amanda sprang to her feet. “No, you’re badly hurt. You need to stay until you heal—”
He looked right at her. “Darling, I’ll be fine in four or five days.”
Disbelief made her jaw drop. “What? That’s impos… Isn’t it?”
He shook his head on the pillow. “No, not for the wolf-born. I need to talk to Sky right away. Can you send a message to him?”
“I can do better. He’s here in the hospital. Should I go find him now?”
“Please. Sara will stay with me, won’t you, cousin?”
As Amanda went to the door she heard her cousin say, “You bet. Even if I didn’t like you, I’d stay because it’s my job. But I like you. You were always so nice to me, even when Stone wasn’t.”
Amanda had to look for Sky. He wasn’t in the waiting room or the hallway. She walked up and down the hallways until she found him in the corner of a dark patient room, in a huddle with Dean Erikson and Judge Case. When she first opened the door and the weak electric light streamed in, Johnny’s face showed excitement, and Dean looked nervous. The lieutenant pulled his usual cold mask over his face, but the judge seemed to struggle to bring himself under control. Sky’s face showed its normal smooth imperturbability. Amanda nodded at Sky.
“Sand’s awake. He wants to talk to you.”
His face lit with relief. He gave Johnny’s arm a squeeze and slapped Dean on the shoulder. “We’ll talk more later,” he murmured.
Amanda had to hurry to keep up with his long legs as he rushed down the hall to Sand’s room. “Wait a second,” she hissed at him, catching his arm. “You were awfully friendly with Johnny and Dean.”
Sky stopped and leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It seems Lieutenant Erikson is offended when wrong doers aren’t punished. Judge Case doesn‘t like it when a man ignores his warning and hires thugs to steal a lady he admires and kill her husband.”
Her heart pounded. “Are they going to do something? Arrest Terry?”
“I believe I
talked them out of that, at least until you and Sand leave Omaha.” His voice lowered even more. “Maybe we have another two allies in the fight.”
She was sure the fight to depose McGrath and set the women of Omaha free was the only reason Sky was in the city. He gave her a small smile and strode down the empty hall to Sand’s room.
Sand smiled at his cousin, but held his hand out to Amanda. She went to him and held his hand tightly.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Something deep inside untwisted and she smiled at him. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“I should have asked before.”
Until he’d said he loved her just now, she hadn’t even been aware of a slight annoyance that he hadn’t said it earlier. How silly for her to resent that when he was badly hurt. She perched on the edge of the bed and squeezed his hand. “You sort of got distracted, throwing up.”
“Sand, how are you doing?” Sky asked.
Sand smiled at her, weakly pressing her fingers with his own before turning to Sky. “Not too bad. But whatever they gave me is wearing off.”
Amanda clutched his hand and looked him over. “Are you in pain?”
He looked away. “Some. Sky, you have to get me out of here.”
He didn’t even need to explain why. Amanda saw Sky’s eyes narrow and comprehension cross his face. “It’s too late tonight; it’s nearly midnight. Tomorrow you’ll come home.”
Sara gasped. “The doctors will never allow that.”
“Never?” Sky tilted his head. “I think they will, with a little incentive.”
And they did. The next morning at eleven o’clock Sand was in her bed in Sky’s House. He was brought home in the garishly painted, flamboyant carriage Sky kept for his ladies to tool around Omaha as a living advertisement for his business. Sal Hudd, the coachman, drove very slowly and carefully to avoid unnecessary bumps. Sara and Sister Roberta both came in the carriage to care for Sand. In spite of her worry Amanda had to press her lips together to keep from grinning. The red and gold carriage had never transported a black garbed sour-faced nun before.
Once Sand was settled, Sara announced she would be his nurse.
Sister Roberta cast a glance around Amanda’s room, lingering on the plush restraints she hadn’t yet removed from her bedposts. “A novice in the Order of the Sisters of Mercy does not attend a man in a house of ill repute.”
Amanda opened her mouth to blast the stiff necked nun, but Sara beat her to it, and in a much more humble and reasonable way than Amanda would have.
“Sister, it is our duty to care for the sick, and Sand is my cousin’s husband.”
Amazingly, the nun smiled. “Very true,” she said approvingly. “And I’ve no objection to you visiting during the day, but you cannot stay overnight. If Mr. Wolfe needs care in the night, I will stay and help him.”
Only Amanda caught the slight widening of Sky’s eyes and wondered if a nun on the premises would hurt business.
“Thank you, Sister,” Sky said gravely. “I’ll send for you if there is need.”
Sister Roberta raised pencil thin gray brows. “Very well. Miss Nelson, I expect you to be in your own home by supper time.”
“Yes, Sister,” said Sara obediently.
At the same time, Sand roused enough to slur, “She’s not Miss Nelson. She’s Mrs. Wolfe.”
The nun’s mouth pursed. “So I’m told. Without proof of the marriage, we must address her as Miss Nelson. One hopes—” a drop of acid flavored the nun’s voice “—the young husband will have the decency to come to Omaha and bring a marriage certificate with him before she turns eighteen.”
Sky waved the nun toward the door. “There’s time for that. Can I have my driver take you home?”
After the door closed Amanda pulled her vanity chair close to the bed. “How are you feeling, Sand?”
“Not bad. Not up to what we did last time you sat in that chair, but not bad.”
Sara coughed. Amanda, amazingly, felt herself blush. “Sand’s wound is already healing, Amanda,” she said, with awe. “It looks like it’s a week old after less than twenty-four hours. Did Stone heal this fast?” she asked Sand. “He wrote me a letter and said he was well, but it’s been only a couple of months so I didn’t think it was possible.”
Sand yawned, his eyelids half closed. “He rode from Mel’s place in Kansas to the den after a week. He was back to normal within three weeks.”
Sara’s dark brown eyes gleamed with tears. “I’m glad. You should rest now, Sand.” She glanced at Amanda. “I’ll go downstairs for a while to give you a little time alone.”
Amanda sat in her vanity chair, watching Sand’s bandaged chest rise and fall with his breathing. He was hers. His hair, freshly washed and braided, lay over his shoulder to spill over the blanket. His color was better, his full mouth soft in sleep, his thick lashes a crescent of black against his cheeks. Even his hand, relaxed and brown on the white sheet, was dear to her. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen on her bed, the most precious. If he had died … God, she couldn’t bear to think of it.
A hot tear slid out of her eye and ran down her cheek. She blotted it away. She hadn’t prayed since her mother died, but she said a short wordless prayer now: Thank you, thank you, thank you.
One of Sand's eyes opened a crack. "You're tired, mate. Come sleep with me."
"I couldn't!" she protested. "You're hurt."
"Eh," he grunted. "Too hurt for much more than just sleep, but I'll rest better with my mate beside me."
She slipped her shoes off and lay on the covers beside him, stiff to avoid touching him. With a fumbling hand but surprising strength he dragged her under the blankets with him. "Sleep, Amanda," he mumbled.
Within a minute they were both fast asleep, heads close together on one pillow. A half hour later he roused when the bedroom door opened. Sara poked her head around the door, and her eyes widened at the sight of them snuggled together under the blankets. She opened her mouth to say something, but he pressed a finger to his lips. After a moment, she nodded, withdrew, and closed the door.
Sand curved an arm more tightly around his mate. Her scent seduced him into wanting more than sleeping beside her, but her warmth caressed him into drowsiness. He was still too weak for more than snuggling, but soon he would show his mate again just what her luscious scent did to him. He would never be finished showing her that. Maybe tomorrow...
Chapter 11
On the third morning after he came home from the hospital, Sand woke feeling utterly content with his mate lying warm and soft by his side. He turned his head on the pillow until his nose was buried in her hair. As always, her scent soothed the wolf even while it aroused the man. It had been four days since he’d made love with her. Four days of pain and restlessness, with only chaste kisses and gentle touches. For a newly mated wolf, that was an eternity. Amanda refused to believe he was nearly healed. After the stitches came out yesterday he’d kissed her but she’d scolded him and pushed him away, telling him he needed to rest and recover.
He wouldn’t let her push him away this morning. He was recovered, and he would prove it to her. Her forehead was smooth and warm under his lips. He brushed light kisses over her eyelids, her cheek, her lips, her throat, until she sighed and arched in her sleep, presenting him with a perfect breast primly hidden under white cotton. How could he resist that?
*
Amanda woke drowning in pure desire. It shot through her, starting at the tip of her breast and running down to her pussy. It caught the breath in her lungs and pushed it out in breathy moans.
“Sand!” she managed to gasp. “Stop. You’re hurt.”
“No,” he muttered, lifting his head from the wet cotton molded to her nipple. Wet from his open mouthed kisses, she realized. “Not hurt. Not stopping.”
She caught his wrist when he slipped his hand into the neck of her nightgown. “Please! You have to stop.”
He removed his hands and ro
lled over onto his back. “I’m good. I promise. See?”
To her horror, he peeled the bandage away from his torso. “Sand!”
“You still don’t understand how fast we heal. The stitches should have been taken out sooner. Take a look.”
Reluctantly, she half sat up to look at his side. A frown pulled her brows together when she searched for the gaping wound she remembered. The skin was marred with a raised red slash. She touched it with a timid finger.
“This is the bullet hole? But I saw it! Yesterday there were marks from the stitches Sara took out. I don’t see anything like that here.”
“I heal fast. By this time next week there will be only a bit of a scar.”
Her gaze went from the red mark to the taut curve of his pec. “You are so handsome.” She almost described what her old appointments had looked like, so old, flabby and ugly compared to him, but she restrained herself. They belonged to the past, not the present and future she would share with this man. “Sand, I love you more every day. I can’t bear for you to be hurt by trying to do too much too soon.”
He threw the bedclothes back. She swallowed at the sight of her husband lying brown and naked against her white sheets. His cock strained erect, drawing her fingers to stroke up and down his length.
Sand groaned, lifting his hips to push himself higher into her hand. “But I want you.”
She wanted him. The circle of wet cotton was cold over her nipple and she missed the heat of his mouth there. She closed her hand gently around his cock. “Do you have any pain? Tell me the truth.”
He looked at her, dark eyes gleaming under lowered lids. “I won’t lie to you. Ever. There’s a little bit of pulling when I move, but it’s not pain.”
She nodded and lifted her hand away from him. “Then I don’t think we can—”
He snatched her hand and held it a little too tightly. “No! I’m fine.”
“Sand, that hurts!” He immediately let her hand go. “And you didn’t let me finish. I was going to say, we can’t make love the traditional way. We’ll just need to be a little untraditional. Creative.”