Page 64 of Secrets of the Marriage Bed
He frowned as if trying to make sense of her words. With a groan he came up on one elbow. He shook his head. ‘Hades, if only the ground would stop heaving.’ He rolled on to his knees and pushed up. ‘I must see to Thor.’
Even in pain, he worried about a creature unable to care for itself.
‘I will see to him. Lay back.’
He collapsed on his side with a soft moan. ‘I feel as if I have drunk a gallon of brandy.’
Sick and dizzy and his words were slurred. Worry gnawed at her stomach. How on earth was she to get him back to the house? ‘Wait here. I will not be long.’
He rolled over on his back and flung his forearm over his eyes, huffing out a breath through his nose. ‘Not going anywhere.’
Fortunately, Thor was a gentleman and after only a bit of a struggle she got his saddle off. The horse eyed her in puzzlement as she removed his bridle. There was only one way she could think of getting help that did not involve leaving Alistair. She whacked Thor on the rump and he took off at a gallop.
Hopefully heading back to his stable. With a bit of luck someone would realise there was something wrong and come looking for them, though it might take a while.
Bella, who had tossed her head when Thor took off, fortunately didn’t attempt to follow her equine friend. Julia made her comfortable, too. If only there was a stream nearby, she could give her and Alistair a drink of water.
She went back to where Alistair was stretched out on the grass to tell him she was going looking for water.
He didn’t move at her approach or open his eyes. ‘Alistair?’
No answer. He was lying so very still. And so very white.
Her heart missed a beat. ‘Alistair?’
* * *
Alistair’s head was pounding fit to burst. He risked cracking an eyelid and squeezed it shut at the glare. What the devil had he done? Drunk a barrel full of brandy? And if so, why?
Or was it something worse? An old haunting nightmare of his past?
Something cool and damp glided across his forehead.
‘You are awake.’
His wife’s voice. Full of relief.
The acid of dread eating at his gut faded. ‘Close the curtains. Please,’ he added in afterthought. No need to get her back up when he couldn’t raise a hand in his own defence.
There was the sound of dragging fabric. The light on the other side of his eyelids dimmed.
Again the cool damp cloth caressed his face.
He licked his lips. Found them parched.
‘Would you like some water?’
‘Thank you,’ he croaked. He swallowed against the dryness. He peeked from beneath his lashes, glad to discover opening his eyes was not nearly as painful as the last time.
A luscious pair of breasts appeared inches from his face and a hand curled around his nape, propping him up, while pillows were pushed behind his head and shoulders. Despite the delicious view, he closed his eyes against the odd way the room distorted.
The glass pressed to his lips was cool, the water cooler and sweet to his gravelly throat. He leaned back against the pillows and once more braved fully opening his eyes. This time the room remained steady, if a little blurry.
‘What happened?’ Damn, he sounded like a whiny child.
Julia’s face came into focus, smiling uncertainly. Worried, then. He waited for her explanation.
‘You fell from your horse.’
