Kimberly Nee - The McKenzie Brothers (13 page)

Drew loved her.

She ignored the pain in her back from her somewhat twisted position on the bed. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was what he had whispered to her as he pulled her close.

He loved her.

Chapter Nineteen

Drew’s fever broke during the night. He lurched violently, his pitiful moan jolting Heather from her light doze in the chair. She sat up with a start to find him blinking up at the ceiling with cloudy, confused eyes.

“What happened?” he murmured, pushing his hair off his forehead.

“You don’t remember?” She leaned away from him to light the lamp on the small table beside the bed.

He groaned as he shifted again. “
Now
I remember. That son of a bitch shot me.”

She rose from the bed to fetch him a fresh change of clothing and pull fresh linens from the wardrobe. “Do you remember anything else?”

She emerged from the wardrobe with everything in her arms, to find him staring at her through narrowed eyes. “I remember he attacked you.”

She tried to ignore her rising disappointment. She brought over his clothing, lowering herself onto the edge of the bed. She took the towel out of the bowl of water Nick had brought down earlier, wrung it out, and pressed it to his forehead. “You were talking in your delirium.”

“I just know I hurt like anything,” he replied softly. Then, his eyes caught hers. “Did I say anything embarrassing?”

“No,” she assured him with a smile. “Nothing you would not want repeated.”

He groaned again, trying to sit up. Heather put a hand against his chest to stop him. “You need to lie back, Drew. Lie back and rest.”

He covered her hand with his. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she told him. “It looks far worse than it feels.” It was the truth. She had forgotten about the bruises Henry had given her, her mind far too cluttered with worry for Drew.

He laid gentle fingers against the bruise on her cheek. “He will pay for this with his blood.”

“Please, Drew, I don’t care about him. I only wish to see you well again.” She shook her head. “Besides, you’ve already pounded him to a pulp. I don’t know that there is much left of him to punish.”

He sighed, sinking back into the pillows. “What did Mr. Mason say?”

“The only thing I could do was to wait for your fever to break. He really wasn’t much help once he removed the bullet.” She dabbed at his face again. “Would you like to have clean linens to lie on?”

He arched a dark brow. “I’d rather have you to lie on.”

“You are terrible.”

He chuckled softly, groaning at the same time. “It hurts to laugh.”

“Then keep your mind on the fact that you are wounded.”

He took her hands, drawing her down to his chest. “It’s hard to forget, but I am trying.”

Her eyes held his and she wished she were brave enough to remind him of what he’d said in his delirium, but she wasn’t. Perhaps he hadn’t meant her, but confused her with his Bridget.

Drew smoothed a loose tendril of her hair behind one ear. “What is on your mind, love?”

“Nothing. I’m worried about you.”

“I think I will live to fight another day.”

“It appears that way.”

He sighed softly, his eyelids drooping again. “I apologize. I am sleepy.”

“Sleep then. I will go down and fetch you something to eat when you awake.”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Make certain you fetch something for yourself as well.”

“Of course.”

She waited until he’d fallen back to sleep before easing her hand from his. She sat back in her chair, chewing on her thumbnail. He did not remember what he had said to her, did not remember telling her he loved her. The happiness that had sustained her through those dark hours seeped away. Her only comfort was that he also didn’t remember her reply. At least she was spared that embarrassment.

She reached for the blanket she’d used the night before, though she didn’t get all that much sleep. Now that his fever had broken, some of her worry slipped away, and exhaustion crept over her. She snuggled into the blanket, her head lolling against the side of the chair, and fell fast asleep.

Drew opened his eyes to find sunlight fading from the cabin and Heather asleep in the chair beside the bed. He lay back against the pillows, watching her. Even in her sleep she was adorable, resting her head against a folded hand, the way a child would. Delicate snores rose from the chair and he couldn’t help but smile. His lady snored.

He sat up slowly, wincing as fire burned through his midsection. He ignored it as he pulled the soiled, bloodstained linens from the bed and replaced them with fresh. It took some doing, as he was lightheaded, fresh sweat breaking out over his entire body. Still, he gritted his teeth and blocked out everything, concentrating solely on his task.

When he’d gotten the bed remade, he moved to the chair and carefully lifted her from it. She did not stir as he placed her in the middle of the tick, drawing the sheet up to her chin.

He was breathing heavily, sweat breaking out once more by the time he finished. He dropped into the empty chair to catch his wind before attempting to dress.

It was slow but he managed it, leaving the cabin to make his way to Sam Mason’s cabin. He pounded on the door, holding his aching side as he did so.

When the doctor opened the door, Drew pulled his hand away, clasping both behind his back as he straightened. “Mr. Mason, I want to see Donaldson.”

“Captain, you should be in bed. Not up and about just yet.”

He waved Mason’s concern aside. “I am fine. Now, where is he?”

“In bed, in manacles. Although, it’ll be some time before
he
is up and about again.”

Drew brushed past him to enter his cabin. “I wish to see him and I wish to see him alone.”

“With all due respect, Captain, I am not so certain that is a wise idea.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a damn what you think, Mr. Mason. Now, if you will excuse me.”

Mr. Mason gave up on his protests and led Drew to the small alcove of his cabin where sick or injured crewmen recuperated.

Henry Donaldson lay swathed in blood-stained bandages, on a narrow cot. His left ankle was manacled and chained to the wall by a short tether. He began whimpering softly, apparently hearing the fall of bootsteps on the planks.

“Save it, Donaldson,” Drew growled, which only made Henry whimper louder.

Drew braced his hands against the thin pallet, clenching his teeth as he leaned over. “You are damned lucky I didn’t kill you, you worm.”

Henry’s eyes went wide, his lips parting to reveal three broken teeth. “But, Captain, I — ”

“I ever see you anywhere near Heather again and I will rip you to pieces with my bare hands. You think you hurt now? I did this with a bullet in me. Think of what I will do perfectly healthy.”

Henry coughed. “But, she’s just a whore…”

Drew snatched a handful of Henry’s blood-spattered tunic, yanking him up from the cot. “I ought to kill you right here and right now,” he snarled, his nose practically touching Henry’s. “But that would be too kind.”

He slammed him back against the cot. “You think about that whilst you are lying here waiting for the pain to stop and the bones to knit.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned heel and stormed out of the alcove. He paused by Mr. Mason’s desk and said, “This time, you make damn certain he does not get out.”

“I still don’t know how he got out the first time. Scottie swears the manacle was locked correctly, that Henry had nothing that could be used to pick open the lock. Yet somehow, he worked open the cuff.”

“You just make damn certain there is no way for him to free himself this time,” Drew said, shaking his head.

“You have my word, Captain. There will not be a second time.” Mr. Mason paused a moment. “And, while you are here, why don’t I take a look at the bandage?”

Drew reluctantly lifted his shirt and let the doctor prod at the bloodstained bandage. Mr. Mason nodded as he straightened up. “Miss Morgan did a fair job, but it needs to be changed.”

“So change it.”

Mr. Mason snipped off the dirty bandage, peeling away the small square covering the actual wound. Drew gritted his teeth, a fresh wave of nausea slamming into him as the dried blood on the bandage caused it to stick, pulling at the wound. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he gripped the edge of Mr. Mason’s desk.

“Captain, are you all right?” Mr. Mason reached to steady Drew as he swayed slightly.

“I’m fine.”

Mr. Mason replaced the bandages. “You ought to be resting, Captain. Let that girl take care of you. She’d been doing well enough so far, and Lord knows she’s been watching over you like a hawk since yesterday. Wouldn’t let anyone near you.”

“I’ve a ship to run.”

“Mr. Aldridge is more than capable of running this ship in your stead. You need to rest. I took a bullet out of you yesterday. Try to remember that.”

“And you try to remember that I am the captain of this ship. And as such — ” He broke off as the room suddenly rocked and he sagged against the desk once more. “And as such — ”

“You will go and rest,” Mr. Mason finished quietly, a hand on Drew’s shoulder to steady him once more. “Now.”

He gritted his teeth as he stood upright. “I will be in my cabin if anyone needs me.”

“Of course, Captain.”

He wove his way back to his cabin, where he sank down onto the bed with a low moan of pain. The room swam about him and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the movement before it made him sick.

Heather woke with the motion of the bed and sat up. “Drew? Is everything all right?”

“No.”

He groaned, glancing down. A fresh stain had begun, creeping outward even as he watched. Dizziness washed over him and a sour taste stung the back of his throat. Heather’s gaze lowered, her cheeks paling. “Let me fetch Mr. Mason.”

“No. It’s all right. I need to rest.”

“Drew, you’re bleeding again.”

“I moved too much. I’ll be fine.”

She frowned. “Drew, you’re as white as this sheet.” She held up the sheet in question to wave at him. “Now please, let me fetch him.”

A muscle bulged in his jaw. “No.”

She scowled. “Very well. But if it does not stop soon, I am fetching him. Are you hungry?”

She sounded so far away. “Not in the least. I wish to sleep, love.”

“So sleep then.”

A wonderful idea. Drowsiness sank into him as he reached for her. “Stay with me?”

“Of course.”

Pulling her into his arms, he held her tightly and murmured in a thick voice, “Stay with me for always.”

Chapter Twenty

The following days were the longest of her life. Drew’s fever raged for two days. She hovered over him, not eating, not sleeping, not even dozing. Mr. Mason checked up on him every few hours, but there was precious little he could do.

“Miss Morgan?”

She whirled around to see Jeremy Allen standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

“I came to see how Captain McKenzie is doing.” Jeremy stepped into the cabin. “May I?”

“It seems you already have.”

He smiled. “You sound tired.”

“That would be because I
am
tired.” Her yawn was far too strong to stifle, so she didn’t even try. “Exhausted, really.”

“You should get some sleep. I’ll stay with him. I’ve my own cabin and you’re more than welcome to it.”

“Thank you, but no.” Tempting as the thought of a nap was, she didn’t want to leave Drew. No matter what, she would stay by his side until he woke up, everything else be damned.

“If you change your mind, the offer will stand.” Jeremy glanced down at Drew’s still form. “Has Doc Mason been in?”

“He just left.”

“And?”

“There is no change. He’s still running a fever.” Hot tears stabbed her eyes, and she blinked rapidly to hold them back. “It’s been nearly three days. I don’t know that he is ever going to come out of this…”

The tears spilled over her lower lashes, streaked down her cheeks and Jeremy eased an arm about her shoulders to guide her to the chair. As she sank into it, he whisked a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, pressing it into her hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered, dabbing at her eyes with it.

He crouched down before her. “Everything will be all right.”

“How can you say that? How can anyone say that? He’s been in and out of consciousness for nearly three days. He mumbles incoherently, doesn’t know where he is, doesn’t know
who
I am. And he keeps asking for Bridget!” She dissolved into tears then, her utter exhaustion overwhelming her, shoulders shaking under the force of her sobs.

“Bridget? Why on earth would he be asking for her?”

“I haven’t any idea!”

Jeremy’s forehead wrinkled. “Are you certain he said
Bridget
?”

“Positive.”

“But that makes no sense.”

She sniffed, then looked into his hazel eyes. “Why? Why would he not be asking for the woman he loves?”

“Loves? Who told you that?” He combed his thick dark hair away from his forehead. “As far as I know, he wouldn’t spit on her if she was on fire.”

“What?” It wasn’t his language that shocked her, but the matter of factness behind his words certainly did.

A dull flush crept into his sun-kissed cheeks, and he cleared his throat. “I mean, at one time he was in love with her. But it was a long time ago.”

“So, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t still carry a flame for her.”

“Believe me,” he scoffed, “that flame died ages ago. He despises her.”

“Is that so?”

Jeremy drew a second chair to Drew’s bedside and sank into it. “Has he even told you about Bridget?”

“No. I know he was betrothed before, but he never told me to whom.” She turned back to Drew, so pale, so quiet.

“Bridget.”

Her entire body grew cold, as if he’d just doused her with barrel of rainwater, and her heart plummeted into her belly. “What?”

“That is who Bridget is. And trust me, she doesn’t compare to you.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Jeremy smiled. “I’ve known Captain McKenzie since we were boys. I was there through the entire Bridget fiasco and this — its aftermath. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. The way he watches you when you don’t know it. He knew you were in danger the other afternoon. I don’t know how, but he just knew.”

“Then why did he not realize
he
was in danger?”

He shook his head. “It mattered not to him.
You
were his only concern. He would sacrifice himself for you, as he proved the other afternoon. Somehow, I don’t think Bridget ever garnered that sort of sentiment.” He shifted in his chair, making it squeak. “Not even on their best days together.”

“What happened?”

“I think I will let him tell you that,” he replied evenly. “It’s his business, not mine. Just keep in mind, he may not realize it yet, but he cares for you. And, when he does tell you about Bridget, you will understand why he might not realize it. Trust me.”

“Why should I?”

He grinned. “Because I want that hulking giant over there to be happy. It’s been a while since I’ve seen that. Since before he met you as a matter of fact. And he deserves it. You are good for him. Just be patient.”

She cast a glance over at Drew, who was tossing about once more. “I can manage that,” she said thoughtfully.

Slapping his hands against his thighs, he rose from his chair and moved to the door. “Just let me know if you need anything, Miss Morgan.”

“Please.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Call me Heather.”

His laughter floated back to her even as he disappeared around the corner. It lifted her spirits for a moment, but then she turned her attention back to Drew and they sank again.

“So another piece has been added to the puzzle that makes you, you.” She shifted, going from the uncomfortable chair to perch on the edge of the bed. “There is so much I still have to learn about you.”

What could have Bridget done to him? And if it was so horrible, why was he mumbling her name? It made no sense to her. No sense at all.

She remained at his bedside, even as her back stiffened and her eyes grew heavier. She pushed through her discomfort, rising from the chair only to bathe his forehead, straighten his blankets and add oil to the lamp burning beside the bed. As the first pearly light of dawn entered the cabin, she arched her back, trying to ease some of the soreness from her muscles.

Drew broke the silence. “Heather?”

The dry croak made her forget about her discomfort. “Yes?”

His fingers curled about hers. “Come here.” He urged her down beside him. “What day is this?”

She snuggled into him as he laced his fingers through hers. “I’m not even certain. I’m afraid I’ve lost track.”

He eased an arm about her shoulders, pulling her close. “You look exhausted.”

It was so wonderful, stretching out, fitting so perfectly into the planes of his body. “I am fine. How do you feel?”

He grimaced. “Like I had a bullet dug out of me. It’s a first.”

She rose up, propping herself up on one elbow to gaze down at him. It was so wonderful to see his beautiful amber eyes again. She would never grow tired of looking into those eyes. Ever.

Heather pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. It was damp, but cool. She breathed an inward sigh of relief. He was still frighteningly pale, but at least he sounded stronger. “It appears your fever has finally broken.”

“Thank the Lord.” He sank into the pillows. “I had the wildest dreams.” He arched an eyebrow, giving her a devilish grin. “And you were in some of them.”

“How could you be dreaming about — about
that
? I was so afraid you would never wake up.”

His arm tightened about her, pulling her closer still. “I wasn’t so certain I
wanted
to wake up. Aren’t you even going to ask what I dreamt about?”

“I think I might be better off not knowing.”

He nuzzled her playfully. “You, sweetheart. Naked and warm in my arms.”

Heat flooded her cheeks even as her insides gave a queer leap. “You, sir, are incorrigible.”

“You bring out the best in me, I suppose.”

That brought a smile to her lips as she lowered back to snuggle against him. “You ought to try and rest, Drew. You look terribly exhausted.”

“To think, I was going to say the same thing to you.”

They lay quietly for a long moment. His fingers absently moved over her hair, and she shifted to rest her head upon his chest. The slow, steady beat of his heart beneath her ear, those fingers caressing her hair with such long, slow strokes, the sound of his deep voice, they were all so wonderful. For the first time in days, happiness filled her and she gave him a gentle squeeze.

“What’s on your mind, love?” he whispered.

“Not a thing.”

“Come now, there must be something going on beneath those curls,” he chided gently.

“No.” She lifted her head to look at him. “I am just thankful to hear your voice again.”

“You were worried about me, then?”

“You have no idea.”

They lay together quietly, and the ship’s gentle rocking motion lulled her into a peaceful state of drowsiness. It was only when Drew groaned that she lifted her head. “Drew?”

“I’m fine, my lady. Just a bit sore still.”

She sat up, tugging the blankets down to peer at the bandage. The blood had dried, the white linens now a dull, dirty reddish-brown shade. “I think the worst is over now,” she said, meeting his eyes. “You will be up and about in no time. No time at all.”

“I certainly hope so.” He scratched idly at his belly, above the bandage. “It’s starting to itch.”

She lightly slapped his hand away. “Do be careful, then. I don’t want you to begin bleeding again now.”

His hand went still, his gaze remaining locked with hers. “You should get some sleep. No offense, but you look like hell.”

“Thank you,” she replied dryly. “What do you expect, when I’ve not slept in nearly three days?”

“You’ve been up for three days?”

“Someone had to watch over you.”

He shook his head. “You are unique, Heather. There is a surgeon on board, you know.”

“I know, but I don’t trust that man.
I
know as much when it comes to caring for you.”

“Really, now?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you can rest now, love. As you can see, I am on the road to recovery.” Drew pulled her back to his chest. “Care to see how much better I am feeling?”

“You are impossible,” she burst out, shaking her head. “A man shot you four days ago and now you want to — to — ”

“Make love?”

“Oh!” She threw back the blankets and scrambled from the bed. “You are insane! You would risk re-injuring yourself, another fever, bleeding to death, for that?”

He propped himself up on one elbow, arching that infuriating brow once more. “Sweetheart, it would be more than worth it.”

“If I didn’t know where Mr. Mason had pulled that mangled ball from, I would swear it was your head!”

If she expected contrition, he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, he grinned. “Well, it wasn’t my head now, was it?”

“Drew.”

His grin faded, but didn’t disappear entirely. However, weariness crept into his voice as he replied, “I am teasing, Heather. I should think you would be flattered to know a man would risk death to make love to you.”

“It isn’t the slightest bit amusing how you can joke so easily about your brush with death. I’ve never been so frightened in my life and you act as if it was nothing more than an inconvenience. And, if you wish to know the truth, I would think that man is insane.” She folded her arms over her chest and glared at him.

Drew took a deep breath as he sat up. All traces of teasing were gone as he rose on unsteady legs, swaying as he righted himself. “Heather, are you going to make a wounded man chase you?”

“Get back in that bloody bed.” She jabbed a stern finger in the direction of the bed.

He took a step toward her. “Come here.”

She stepped back. “I mean it, Drew. Back in bed. This instant.”

“Not alone. Come here.”

She swallowed her rising irritation. How could he be serious in wanting to pull her back into bed with him? Why would he take such a risk? “I am
not
bloody joking.”

“Nor am I.” Another step. “You
are
going to make me chase you, aren’t you?”

“Drew McKenzie, do
not
take another step. I mean it. Not one more bloody step.”

A grin played at his lips. “If you are going to scold me, love, at least use my given name. Andrew Kieran, if I really work you into a fury.” He closed the gap between them, snaking his arms about her waist to pull her flush against him.

She tried to ignore the warmth of his breath on her neck, the heat from his hands seeping into her back, how his lips tickled her ear. “A-Andrew…” she repeated in a breathless whisper, her eyelids drooping as his tongue moved lightly about the shell of her ear. Her knees threatened to buckle, her fingernails digging into his upper arms as she tried to steady herself. “Stop that…”

“No.”