Leah checked to make sure her pajama top and blanket were in place, but Clay had already seen her in all her shame.

She shuddered. However, Clay had acted like a physician with her. A gentleman.

He approached, the shoulders of his khaki uniform shirt darkened by raindrops. “Hello, Leah.”

“Clay! I’m so glad you came.”

His smile relaxed, and he set a box on her bedside table. “I brought you chocolate from the PX.”

Only the sling could keep her from reaching for it. “A whole box? For me?”

He chuckled and sat in the chair by Leah’s bed. “Just a little box, and don’t you dare indulge without asking your doctor, you hear?”

“I won’t. I’m so glad you came.” Why was she repeating herself?

“I’m sorry I took so long. I came the next morning. They told me you’d come through surgery fine, but they wouldn’t let me see you. Then my commanding officer sent us on a three-day march and field exercise. This was my first chance to visit.” Clay pulled off his garrison cap and assessed her from head to toe, one corner of his mouth crimped. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you. I’m very tired, of course.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Only when I move.”

“All the more reason to rest so you can heal.” He really did have a physician’s manner, even kinder than Dr. Reeves.

“I’m glad you came, because I need to thank you for saving my life.”

Clay lifted half a smile. “Reckon I ought to thank you too, for clearing my name with the MPs.”

“I can’t believe they thought—”

“Nah.” He waved one hand as if erasing her words. “When a man brings a battered woman to a hospital, they’d better ask questions and a lot of them.”

Leah couldn’t remember much about the trip other than a bumpy run and Clay’s strong arms. How could anyone have thought he had harmed her after he’d fought off an armed assailant and performed lifesaving first aid? “You were so brave.”

Clay shrugged. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“You fought him. You attacked him. You weren’t even scared.”

“I knew I wasn’t going to die.”

Leah’s mouth hung open. “But he had a knife.”

“That’s not how I’m going to die—” He sliced the word in half, his eyes wide and shocked.

What a curious thing to say. “What do you mean?”

Clay mashed his lips together and shook his head.

“Do you know?” Leah said. “No one knows how he’ll die. Right?”

“It’s not something . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around. “I don’t tell people. They’d think I’m crazy.”

Leah held her breath watching his discomfort. “I would never think that.”