Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(95)

“A nap and a biscuit wouldn’t hurt this one at the moment,” Sebastian commented dryly. “Gabriel, go find a proper bed and rest for a few hours. We’ll watch over your little fox cub.”





Chapter 23




In the week and a half since Pandora had returned home, she’d wondered more than once if they’d sent the wrong husband back from the clinic with her.

It wasn’t that Gabriel was indifferent or cold . . . in fact, no man could have been more attentive. He insisted on taking care of her himself, seeing to her most intimate needs and doing everything humanly possible to ensure her comfort. He had changed her wound dressing, gave her sponge baths, read to her, and massaged her feet and legs for long, blissful intervals to improve her circulation.

He had insisted on feeding her, patiently spooning beef tea or fruit ices or blancmange into her mouth. Blancmange, incidentally, had turned out to be a revelation. Everything she thought she’d disliked before, its mildness, its whiteness, and lack of texture, turned out to be the best things about it. Although Pandora could easily have fed herself, Gabriel had refused to let her have the spoon. It had taken two full days before she’d managed to wrest it from him.

And flatware was the least of her concerns. Gabriel had once been the most charming man in the world, but now all his irreverent humor and playfulness had vanished. There was no more flirtation, no teasing and joking . . . only this unending quiet stoicism that was beginning to feel a bit grueling. She understood he had been deeply worried for her sake, and was concerned about potential setbacks to her recovery, but she missed the Gabriel of before. She missed the private energy of attraction and humor that used to connect them in an invisible current. And now that she was feeling better, the iron control he exerted over every minute of her day was beginning to make her feel a little hemmed in. Trapped, actually.

When she complained to Garrett Gibson, who visited daily to assess her progress, the doctor surprised her by taking Gabriel’s side. “He experienced a great mental and emotional shock,” Garrett explained. “In a way, he’s been wounded, too, and needs time to recover. Invisible wounds can sometimes be as devastating as physical ones.”

“But he will go back to the way he was?” Pandora asked hopefully.

“I expect so, for the most part. However, he’s acquired an awareness of how tenuous life can be. A life-threatening illness tends to change our perspective on one particular thing.”

“Blancmange?” Pandora guessed.

Garrett smiled. “Time.”

Pandora gave a resigned sigh. “I’ll try to be patient with him, but he’s being cautious in the extreme. He won’t let me read novels with adventure plots because he’s afraid it will raise my blood pressure. He has everyone in the house tiptoeing and whispering so I won’t be disturbed by noise. Every time someone visits, he hovers and watches the clock to make certain they don’t overtire me. He won’t even kiss me properly, only gives me dry little pecks as if I were his second-favorite great aunt.”

“He may be overdoing it,” Garrett conceded. “It’s been two weeks, and you’re doing well. There’s no more need for pain medication, and your appetite has returned. I think you would benefit from some limited activity. Excessive bed rest can lead to weakened muscles and bones.”

There was a knock at the bedroom door. “Come in,” Pandora called out, and Gabriel entered the room.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Gibson.” His gaze went to Pandora. “How is she?”

“Healing fast,” Garrett said with quiet satisfaction. “No signs of aneurysm, hematoma, edema, or fever.”

“When can I begin to go on outings?” Pandora asked.

“Starting tomorrow, I think limited outings would be acceptable. Perhaps you might start with something easy, such as visiting your sisters, or going to the tea room at Winterborne’s.”

Gabriel’s expression turned thunderous. “You propose to let her outside the house? Exposing her to filthy public places swarming with germs, bacteria, vermin, street manure—”

“For heaven’s sake,” Pandora protested, “I’m not planning to run out and start rolling on the pavement.”

“What about her wound?” Gabriel demanded.

“The wound has closed,” Garrett said. “My lord, although your caution is understandable, Pandora can’t be kept in a sterile environment forever.”

“I think—” Pandora began, but her husband paid no attention.

“What if she falls? What if someone accidentally bumps into her? And what about the bastard who ordered the attack? Just because Mrs. O’Cairre is in custody doesn’t mean Pandora is safe. He’ll send someone else.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Garrett admitted. “Obviously I can’t speak to the issue of homicidal conspirators.”

“Dragon will be with me,” Pandora pointed out. “He’ll protect me.” When Gabriel didn’t reply, only gave her a stone-faced glance, she said in the most reasonable tone she could muster, “I can’t stay cooped up in the house for much longer. I’m far behind on my production schedule. If I could just go out every now and then—”

“I’ve already told Winterborne the board game won’t be ready in time for Christmas,” Gabriel said brusquely, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. “You’ll have to come up with a new production schedule. Later, when your health permits.”