Not a stitch of clothing covered his person. His face was turned from her, facing the opposite wall.

She cleared her throat to alert him of her arrival so that he might cover himself.

His head whipped around on the bed and she gasped.

His dark eyes were like obsidian fire. They fixed on her with hot-eyed focus. “Nora,” he growled in a voice she had never heard from him before. “Go! Get out!”

Her heart clenched. He was in pain. She had done this to him. She had brought him to this.

“What’s amiss?” She stepped forward.

“Stop!” She ignored him and continued forward, forcing her gaze on his face. Not his body. At least she tried . . . and succeeded. Mostly.

“Don’t come any closer, damn it!” His face contorted as he lifted his voice.

She halted at the force of that command, frowning. It was not like him to shout.

“Sinclair . . . Constantine,” she said slowly, softly speaking his name . . . enjoying far too much the feel of it on her tongue. “You need to let me examine you.” She held up her hands as one does to pacify a wild animal, to illustrate that she meant him no harm.

“Did you not hear me? You need to get out of this room, woman. Now!”

She flinched at the bark of his voice, but did not back away. “I’m not leaving you. I’m here to take care of you.”

He laughed and the sound was broken and tormented, as jagged and sharp as broken glass. A dreadful sound that tore right through her. There was no way she could leave him in such a state.

The tendons in his throat worked as though struggling to swallow. “You can’t help me with this. You were . . . right . . . about that.”

She had not wanted to be right. She had hoped she would be wrong because now she was faced with this—with him like this. And he was her responsibility. Even if he had insisted on taking the tonic and ignoring her advice.

She lifted her chin with forced bravado. “I am the person most equipped in this house to help you, good sir. You must know that.”

He groaned as though someone had stuck a hot poker to his flesh—his lovely manly flesh. Tight and smooth flesh stretched over a body that was muscled and well formed. Especially the curve of those buttocks. They were nicely rounded and tight, flexing in a tantalizing manner with his movements.

Her eyes widened with the realization that she was ogling him. She wrenched her gaze back to his face.

“Be gone, woman! Do you see me? Do you see this?” He rolled fully to face her then, lying on his side so she had a full frontal view of him. “Do you see? You cannot help me.”

And she did see.

She saw everything.

Every shocking thing.

Chapter 20