“Lisa?”

Sighing, she offered a smile for Robert’s benefit as she moved toward his bed.

“Good evening. I’ve brought you dinner and thought I would stay to eat it with you,” she announced cheerfully, carrying the tray to the bedside table

“That is kind of you,” Robert murmured and started to pull himself up in bed.

“Just a moment and I’ll help you,” Lisa said with a frown when he winced and paused.

Setting the tray quickly on the table, she turned to bend to him. Lisa caught the way his eyes shifted to her chest as her robe gaped open, but pretended she didn’t and acted very businesslike as she helped him sit up.

“Er . . . Lisa?” Robert muttered as she fussed over tucking his blankets more securely around his waist.

“Would you like a robe or something? Are you chilly?” she asked as she straightened.

Robert glanced down at his chest, bare but for the bandaging around his ribs and grimaced. “A shirt will do.”

“Of course.” She moved to the chest at the foot of the bed and bent forward to open and begin searching it, knowing as she did that she was once again revealing a good deal of what she was wearing under her gaping robe.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked in a near growl as she pulled out a shirt and briefly examined it.

“Oh, a robe and night wear,” Lisa answered absently as she straightened and moved back around the bed to help him don the shirt.

“What kind of night wear?” he asked, distractedly allowing her to tug the shirt on for him. Lisa didn’t close it properly or bother with buttons.

“A nightgown, Robert,” she answered on a laugh as she turned to the tray. “What else would I be wearing?”

“Yes, but . . . it is not that gown Mrs. Morgan put you in, is it?” he asked fretfully.

Lisa glanced at him with feigned surprise. “As a matter of fact it is. How did you know?”

“Because when you bent over I saw damned near down to your belly button and there wasn’t much in the way to prevent it but a gauzy film,” he said dryly. “What the devil are you doing wearing that damned thing?”

“It is extremely comfortable,” she said with a shrug, removing her own plate and glass of wine, leaving his on the tray before she turned toward him with it as if to set the tray on his lap. She paused before setting it down though and raised her eyebrows, then turned to set the tray back. Lisa then settled herself on the side of the bed and reached for the buttons of his shirt, murmuring, “You did not do up your shirt. I suppose your wound makes such things difficult.”