Diamond Bay by Linda Howard Read Free Book Online

antibiotic; then she and Rachel had cleaned him up, changed
the bedding and made him as comfortable as they could. Once she had decided to help, Honey had become her usual capable,
unflustered self, for which Rachel would be eternally grateful. Rachel felt
that she'd strained herself to the limits physically, yet from somewhere she'd
found the strength to help Honey during the nerve-racking operation to remove
the bullet from the man's shoulder, then repair the damage done to his body.
    Her hair dry, she put on the clean
shirt she had brought into the bathroom with her. The face in the mirror didn't look like her own, and she stared at
it curiously, noting the colorless skin and the mauve shadows under eyes dark
with fatigue. She was punch-drunk from weariness, and she knew it. It was time
to go to bed. The only problem was: where?
    The man was in her bed, the only bed in the house. She didn't have
a regular-sized couch, only two matching love seats. There was always the
possibility of making a pallet on the floor, but she was so tired that even the
thought of the effort involved was almost beyond her. Leaving the bathroom, she
stared at her neat bed with its snowy white sheets, and at the man who lay so
quietly between those sheets.
    She needed to sleep, and she needed to be close to him so she
could hear him if he awoke. She was a thirty-year-old widow, not a trembling
ingenue; the most sensible thing to do would be to crawl into bed beside him so
she could rest. After staring at him for just a moment longer she made her
decision and turned out the lights, then went around to the other side of the
bed and slipped carefully between the sheets, trying not to jostle him. She
couldn't prevent a low moan as her tired muscles finally relaxed, and she
turned on her side to put her hand on his arm, so she would wake up if he
became restless. Then she slept.
     
    It was hot when she awoke, and she was drenched in sweat. Alarm
flared briefly when she opened her eyes and saw the dark masculine face on the
pillow next to hers; then she remembered and rose on her elbow to look at him.
Despite the heat he wasn't sweating, and his breathing seemed a little too
fast. Quick concern rose in her, she sat up and put her hand on his face,
feeling the heat there. He moved his head restlessly, away from her touch. He
was feverish, which wasn't unexpected.
     
    Quickly Rachel got out of bed, noticing that it was past noon. No
wonder the house was so hot! She opened windows and turned on the ceiling fans
to get some of the hot air out of the house before she turned on the air
conditioner to cool things even more. She didn't use it that much, but her
patient needed to be cooled down.
    She had to take care of him before anything could be done. She
dissolved two aspirin in a teaspoon of water, then gently lifted his head,
trying not to jar him. "Open your mouth," she crooned, as if he were
a baby. "Swallow this for me. Then I'll let you rest." His head lay
heavily against her shoulder, his black eyelashes still resting on his cheeks.
His hair was thick and silky beneath her fingers, and warm, reminding her of
his fever. She put the spoon against his mouth, noting the clear-cut line of
his lips; the spoon pressed down on his bottom lip, opening it just a little.
"Come on," she whispered. "Open your mouth."
    How many levels of consciousness were there? Did he hear her
voice? Make sense of the words? Or was it just the low, tender tone that got
through to him? Was it her touch? The warm, sleepy scent of her flesh?
Something reached him. He tried to turn toward her, his head nuzzling against
her shoulder, and his mouth opened a little. Her heart pounded in her chest as
she coaxed him to swallow, hoping that he wouldn't choke. It worked so well
that she managed to get three more teaspoons of water down him before he lapsed
back into deeper unconsciousness.
    She wet a washcloth in cold water, folded it and placed it across
his brow, then turned the sheet