EIGHT
“Wow, y’all don’t mess around. He’s really knocked out.” She grinned at Peter. “You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“Funny, we try not to kill our patients.” Peter leaned close to Connor before straightening up, a goofy laugh escaping. “He’s fine.”
At that moment, Connor opened his eyes and pulled her close. A squeak escaped as arms sculpted from marble encircled her, cutting off the squeak. Those all-knowing indigo eyes bored into her, and peace flowed through her veins. So this was what it was like to feel safe. Protected. Cherished.
Her heart thumped, sounding like the bass of a radio turned up too loud. Heat bloomed across her skin, awareness sharpening and she noticed every detail. His chest heaving, the stubble on his face, the scars, and then her focus shifted as his lips met hers. No, that was entirely too polite. He claimed her. Capturing her mouth, declaring “mine” with his mouth as he pulled her halfway onto the bed and his chest, the monitors beeping in time with their heartbeats.
With one arm, he held her, the other hand kneading her backside as heat flowed through her, turning her to liquid and making her think of summers in the South, sleeping porches, and mint juleps. When his tongue took possession of hers, she twined her hands in his hair, kissing him for all she was worth, the sounds around them fading until all she heard was the sound of two hearts beating as one, the scent of the ocean filling the air along with leather, wool, and horse. A groan escaped his throat, making her feel more powerful than any ancient goddess.
Then a sound intruded, someone clearing their throat, then coughing. Slowly, Mellie came back to herself and pulled away, dazed, only to see the most masculine look of pure satisfaction she’d ever seen on a guy’s face.
“What on earth is going on here? Miss, you need to get off him. Now.” A nurse scowled at them, Peter burst out laughing, and Mellie slid off Connor to applause from the guy in the next bed, who was hooting and hollering.
“You go, girl. Get some.” He winked at the guy. “Dude. I’m gonna have to try that move.”
Horrified by the spectacle she’d made of herself, Mellie felt like her head was on fire, her cheeks burning, and still she could smell what she realized was the scent of him. Another nurse stomped off, and Mellie swore she heard the woman call her a shameless hussy.
“I don’t… Well. That was awkward.” She straightened her clothes and did the only thing she could. Fled. She called out over her shoulder, “I’m going to get a bottle of water or maybe a dump truck full of ice.”
“Get me some, girl. I need a cold shower,” the guy next to them hollered.
A low rumble sent hummingbirds darting to and fro in her stomach.
“Nay, come back, lass. I wasna finished.”
Her feet were already taking her back to him when she stopped. Oh no, what on earth was happening? Unwilling to think about it, Mellie broke into a run before she heard another word.
On the way back to her coworker, she heard the commotion before she reached his bed. There were six or seven orderlies all around trying to hold Connor down without getting slugged. He was bellowing in Gaelic again.
Then he saw her, and like the Hulk after being touched by the Black Widow, he calmed, switched to English, and demanded, “Where are my blades?”
“Connor. Stop. You’re in the hospital. Remember the storm? You were hurt. Stop thrashing around this instant before you tear your stitches.”
He glared at Peter and sneered. “Bloody English, always taking what doesna belong to them.”
An orderly ventured too close and took a fist to the nose, and blood streamed down his face before they sedated Connor again. Mellie didn’t think; she pushed between the remaining orderlies, placing a hand on Connor’s arm. Wild eyes met hers and she willed him to calm.
“You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you. They’re trying to help, to heal you. Can you tell them how you were injured?” She waved a hand around him. “All this damage couldn’t be from the storm alone.”
“Longbow, one of the Armstrong’s men, bloody bastard.” He pointed from his hand to his shoulder. “Blades. Three cowards.” Then he shrugged. “The rest I know not. Now come, lass, and let me tumble you.”
“Careful, Mellie.” Peter took her arm, pulling her back from Connor’s long reach. “Knew we should have kept him restrained.”
The guy in the next bed, who she’d heard was in a gang and had been shot, looked impressed. “Damn, dude, you’re a total badass.”
Connor bared his teeth like a wild animal. The heavily tattooed guy held up his hands. “No offense, bro. It’s all good.”
Connor made a sound in the back of his throat but stopped lashing out, instead totally focusing on her, and yet she had the feeling he could tell her what everyone in the room was doing. Why wasn’t the sedative kicking in?
Peter took a tentative step closer. “We’re going to keep you overnight, run some tests.” He leaned close to Mellie. “I’m ordering a psych evaluation.”
She took Connor’s hand in hers, distant memories rolling through her: Aunt Jilly being taken away in the middle of the night, lots of screaming and broken glass.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said. “Maybe you hit your head? Do you remember you’re supposed to start work at the museum next week?”
“I am in hell. This wretched place could be nothing else.” Connor clapped his hands over his ears as an alarm went off. Peter nodded to one of the nurses, who injected something into the IV. Connor blinked for a moment before falling back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut.
“He’ll be out for a while,” Peter said. “Can I talk to you a moment?”
With Connor out cold, the commotion died down, the gang member in the next bed turned his attention to the TV, and unease made it difficult for Mellie to breathe. She followed Peter down the corridor until they were far enough away that no one would hear them.
“Go home and get some sleep. You went above and beyond, coming here with a coworker you don’t even know.” He sighed. “Look, I don’t want you hanging around this guy. He’s dangerous. Even the gang member was intimidated by him.”
He made a face. “The way he slobbered all over you, disgusting. Like he was going to devour you.” Peter peered closely at her. “Though you didn’t seem to mind it too much. Is that the kind of guy you go for? The Neanderthal type?”
“Shut up, Peter. You’re crossing a line. I was surprised, that’s all, and while he might be a lunatic, the guy sure knows how to kiss. I’ve never been kissed like that in my entire life.” Laughter bubbled up, the sound of someone coming unhinged.
With a frown, he looked at his watch. “The authorities will be here shortly. They’ll find out who he really is. Did you know he told one of the nurses he was in a battle in Scotland? In 1334.”
“In 1334? That’s funny. Come on, Peter, you said it yourself: he’s staying in character. It doesn’t mean anything.”
But he was interrupted from saying anything more as alarms sounded, echoing down the corridor. A nurse, face red and out of breath, skidded to a stop in front of them.
“Doctor! That crazy man, he’s escaped.”
A terrible feeling went through Mellie. She knew who they meant. And sure enough, they entered the room to find Connor’s bed empty, the shooting victim in the next bed laughing so hard, he was wiping his eyes.
“He tore out like the po-po were comin’ for him, guns blazin’.”
Peter took his glasses off. “What did I tell you? Your coworker is a criminal and a very disturbed person.”
“Isn’t it possible he hit his head and can’t remember who he is?” Quit defending him, Mellie thought. Just because he kisses like he invented the act doesn’t mean he isn’t a thief or crazy.
“He may be suffering from temporary amnesia, but now I’m of the mind he’s disturbed and a criminal. He pretended to be your coworker and broke into the museum to rob it.” Peter pointed to the table by the bed. “Look, he took the coins and weapons with him.” He then pointed to the empty space where, indeed, all of the blades were gone, along with the coins, though he’d left the kilt and shirt.
She fingered the material, looking closer at the shirt. It was handmade. What kind of thief went to that much trouble? Mellie caught the eye of the guy in the other bed, who shook his head.
“I didn’t see nothin’. That guy’s badass.”
She chewed her lip, making a decision she would probably regret later. “I’m going to see if I can find him.”
Peter shook his head. “You haven’t changed. Still taking on hopeless causes.”
Instead of answering, Mellie made her way out of the hospital, asking along the way if anyone had seen a man fleeing, hands full of swords and knives. And the niggling worry followed along, warning her, but she ignored the voice, fingers pressed to her lips.