The flush was fading as she found work to do. She picked up the bread, then frowned and tapped it, dry as the Mojave, against the plate it lay on.

“You just stay still.” She had a pert little voice. Bossy, but in a way so cute, he didn’t mind taking orders, much.

“I’ll be right back with fresh bread and warm broth.”

“I would greatly appreciate that.”

She patted him on his good shoulder and ran out of the room. Whether to escape the embarrassing situation of waking up in his arms or because she was hustling to give him whatever he needed, it didn’t matter. Both left him oddly cheerful, and there wasn’t much cheerful that’d gone on around here lately.

And he had no intention of staying still.

Wyatt sat up slowly. He found he wasn’t really tied down, just bound tightly to his own body. He was careful not to move his strapped-down arm. He found his thoughts turning . . . buzzy. Like a swarm of bees filled his head. His vision did something weird, something that was darker and darker. Using his good arm, he leaned back a bit and braced himself. If he passed out, he wanted to fall backward onto the bed, not forward onto the floor. That couldn’t be good for what ailed him.

His vision went so far down that road to darkness he thought he was going to fall over, then it stopped getting worse and began to clear. The room came slowly back to its normal sunlit self. The buzzing eased, then faded.

All he wanted was a good, hearty drink of water, and he wanted to slip into the closet, where they kept a chamber pot.

Gripping the head of his bed tightly, he stood, testing his strength with every move. He wasn’t being careless or reckless. But a few things a man needed to tend to for himself if at all possible.

When he was sure his legs would hold him, he walked, leaning when he could, into the closet. He was out quick, not wanting Molly to catch him.

He stopped by the water pitcher. His hand trembled as he poured a full cup of water and gulped it down. It stuffed his belly full to bursting. He tottered back to the bed and sat down, then lay down, feeling smug that he’d gotten away with something before his eagle-eyed doctor got back.

He heard Molly on the stairs, and she appeared, still a bit pink cheeked, with a tray holding a bowl and some bread. He smelled the soup before he saw it.