Bed of Roses by Rebecca Paisley Read Free Book Online

and—”
    “Maclovio!” Zafiro’s voice sliced through the quiet room as she stepped in from the corridor, a basin of fresh water in her hands. “What are you doing here?”
    Maclovio bolted from his chair. “I… He… Tia… Watching over him, Zafiro. And trying to…trying to find out who he is. Yes, I am watching over and interrogating him. You are here now. I will go. But if he dares to threaten you, call me and I will smash his face.” As quickly as his intoxicated state would allow, Maclovio weaved out of the room.
    Zafiro shut the door, carried the water to the bed, and wet a clean cloth. As she smoothed the rag upon the side of Sawyer’s face, she glanced at the door and wondered what Maclovio had talked about while in the room. Azucar, Tia, and Pedro had also visited Sawyer, but none of them would have said anything of much importance.
    It was Maclovio who worried her. While he was in one of his drunken states, his tongue was so loose that it was a wonder it even stayed in his mouth.
    And Maclovio had looked awfully guilty when she’d caught him talking to Sawyer.
    Deep in thought as she was, a while passed before she realized Sawyer had opened his eyes and was watching her. Another moment passed before she also realized that she had absently pushed the sheet down and was now sliding the wet cloth over his lower abdomen.
    She pulled the sheet back over his chest, cast the cloth aside, and casually brushed her hand over her hair. “You are awake. I was washing…bathing you. You are hot with fever, and I am trying to cool you.”
    He tried to hear what she said to him—the dark haired girl with the startling blue eyes—but her voice seemed to be coming from a hundred miles away. “My head. I think I fell and hit my head. Seeing…seeing things.”
    Zafiro understood he was very sleepy. Maybe he hadn’t even felt her bathing his stomach. “Maclovio,” she said down to him. “The man who was just here. What did he say? What did he want?”
    “Kiss,” Sawyer whispered.
    “Maclovio wanted to kiss you?” Dios mío, Zafiro thought. Considering Maclovio’s drunken state and Sawyer’s long hair… Did Maclovio believe Sawyer was female?
    “The old woman,” Sawyer said. “She tried…tried to kiss… Lay. Lay an egg on me.”
    “An old woman tried to kiss and lay an egg on you?” Zafiro frowned. Perhaps Sawyer’s fever had made him delirious, she guessed, and people often spoke secrets when raving with fever. Maybe Sawyer would say something that would help her understand who he was. “Tell me more, Sawyer Donovan. Go ahead. Let the peas flow out.”
    He blinked several times, but couldn’t quite keep his eyes open. “Peas…”
    “Yes. You are American. You know the expression. Let the peas flow out. Tell me everything.”
    He couldn’t for the life of him understand why she was chattering about flowing peas. Dammit, if only he wasn’t so groggy!
    “Sawyer, tell me your brain.”
    Somehow, finally, he surmised that she was trying to tell him to speak his mind. “A slingshot,” he replied, voicing whatever thought came to him. “A boy called Francisco. Red. The toothless hag wore red. But it wasn’t…it wasn’t in an ark. He was born in a manger.”
    Listening to his mumbling, Zafiro realized he had, indeed, met and listened to the ramblings of Tia, Azucar, and Pedro. “What else, Sawyer? Did anyone else say anything to you?”
    His eyes still closed, Sawyer continued to relate whatever thoughts entered his mind. “Blood. She saved the fish hooks. So much blood in the house with the…with the white curtains.”
    Dazed as he remained, Zafiro didn’t miss the torment in his voice. “Blood?” Was he recalling a terrible memory, something the nuns believed he wanted to forget? “Blood in the house? Was it your house?”
    “He rode standing up. Jaime’s gone. Well-known and feared in two lands.”
    Zafiro made no reply; cold dread sat in her belly like a lump of ice. “Who,