“I know. I’m sorry. I have to use the bathroom.” With painful motions, she lifted herself onto her elbows. “It’s of the utmost urgency.”

He stood, leaned over her, slid his arm under her shoulders and eased her into a sitting position while she whimpered a low, continuous moan. In between the stabs of pain, the muscle aches and the increasing need to go, she noted that Adam Ramsdell wore a T-shirt that fit nicely over broad shoulders and a pair of stretchy midcalf exercise shorts that fit nicely over muscular thighs.

The T-shirt must be a long fit, because she couldn’t eyeball the good stuff.

While his head was bent to hers, she took a moment to note that he shaved his head, and the stubble was blond with hints of red. Every bit of skin she could see was tanned, or maybe a Viking ancestor had roamed into the Mediterranean seeking more than loot. Also, he smelled good. He used an unscented soap, so that scent was pure Adam Ramsdell. Nice. Very nice.

Somehow, she was now on her feet beside the bed, no longer whimpering, but still far too smashed up to be thinking lascivious thoughts... Yet here she was.

He looked into her face. “You’re smiling.”

“I’m not quite dead yet.” She hobbled toward the door.

Gently he turned her toward the other, narrower door. “You’ll find your jeans and underwear on the hook, and one of my button-up shirts.”

She kept moving, this time in the right direction. “Did my T-shirt not survive the ocean?”

“It did. But a button-up shirt will hide the marks on your neck. You look rough enough without everyone in Gothic knowing you were throttled.”

“When will I see everyone in Gothic?”

“Let’s discuss that at breakfast.”

“Good idea.” Her gotta-go situation was desperate.

He said, “I don’t have any women’s bras. Sorry.”

Now over her shoulder, she shot him a smile. “I don’t really need a bra, anyway.”

For one second, his gaze flashed toward her. “I know.”

Right. He did know. In the strangeness of the morning, she’d lost track of last night’s communal shower. But he didn’t sound or look at all interested.

Hm.

She managed to shut the bathroom door behind her, take care of her immediate needs, look at herself in the tiny old silvered mirror and shudder at the sight. She dressed in his shirt and her jeans, came out and followed the sounds and the smells to the kitchen, where she found ham, toast, boiling eggs, orange juice, sliced peaches and percolating coffee.

How long had she been in that bathroom?

Probably a long time. She was moving slowly...

“Sit down. Drink your juice. Once you eat, you can have a pain reliever.”