Chapter 67

Nettie didn't need anyone to wake her after two hours. An hour after Diana left, Nettie found herself awake - and bored out of her mind. Yes, she hurt all over, but her mind was racing, mostly with incredulity about being here, in Eli Lawson's home.
He'd stacked all her belongings in the room, so she didn't have to ask anyone for a magazine. The book of poetry she'd been re-reading the day before - had it really only been twenty-four hours since she'd crawled up to her room? - waited with the others on a side table. A luxurious window seat beckoned, the stars out now, winking in the black velvet sky. Limping only slightly on her bound ankle, she turned on a second lamp and crossed to the table, settling herself in the cozy space, which even had a blanket waiting to be draped over her legs - a little awkward one-handed, but she managed. She opened the book, waited until her vision stopped jumping around on the page and read over the familiar lines. Since she was alone, she allowed herself the luxury of reading a few poems out loud.
"Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage..."
The door, which hadn't been latched, pushed open. "Minds innocent and quiet take that for an hermitage."
"Eli, you know Richard Lovelace." Well of obviously he did. She could be such a ninny when it came to him. "Are you all right? Was anyone hurt?"
He waved off her question and stalked toward her. "What are you doing out of bed?"
"Reading." She held up the book. "And this window seat is wonderful. It's almost like being in bed, but easier to sit up."
"The doctor said bedrest." He stood directly in front of her, close enough so she could see he'd singed another eyebrow. "This is not a bed and you didn't fly here. Which means you were up. Walking."
"Oh, for heaven's sake." She closed the book and dropped it into her lap. "Quit fussing so. I've sprained my ankle before; I know what I can manage. I've also been to the washroom. I utterly refuse to use a bedpan, and I don't see anyone volunteering for help with that anyway. The doctor gave me a crutch. I can manage short distances." It had felt lovely to brush her teeth. The doctor and his nurse had cleaned her face to deal with the various cuts, but come tomorrow morning, she was washing that too, assuming she could manage with her cast. Don't get it wet, had been the physician's number one command.
"Well, now you're going back to bed - unless you need a trip to the washroom first." He put both hands on his hips and stared into her eyes, a silent clash of willpower.
Nettie yawned, costing her the contest. It turned simultaneously into a giggle and a gasp of pain. "Do not make me laugh," she muttered. "And I finished washing up - well, brushing up, anyway." She held up her cast.
"Then bed." He gently scooped her into his arms and deposited her back in the center of the large bed."
She yawned again. "What time is it?"
"Nearly eleven." He pointed to a clock she'd forgotten was on the night table. "I'll back at one to wake you."
"You really don't need to. My head is feeling better."
"Too bad. Unlike some people, I can follow a doctor's instructions." He covered her carefully and tucked the soft blankets around her. Having him loom so close, after his strong arms had held her, made her stomach quiver. He smelled of smoke, but under it was a faint trace of aftershave and sweat that was irresistibly attractive. To her disappointment, he pulled back, his gaze still locked with hers, which made her breathless. "There's a glass of water you can reach, and a bell if you need anything else. My sister and I are both light sleepers. We'll hear it if you call." He feathered a soft kiss across her forehead and left, leaving the bedroom door open a few inches.
"What if I need you?" she whispered. She'd read enough, she knew what she was feeling was desire. What she didn't know was what to do about it. She'd never been in this situation before.
Dr. Lexington arrived bright and early the following morning. Since she'd been woken by Mrs. VanCleve at seven with a breakfast tray, Nettie was already awake when the doctor arrived half an hour later He was middle-aged, with silver spectacles and the beginnings of a paunch. More importantly, his smile was sincere and filled with concern, unlike her father's physician, Dr. Rollins, who only seemed to see his patients as a source of income. It was he who'd informed her that she'd killed her mother by bringing home the scarlet fever, despite much of the town having been infected.
This time Diana remained in the room instead of the disapproving nurse, which Nettie found much more comfortable. The doctor seemed satisfied with Nettie's progress, but demanded a promise of one more day of bedrest, with short excursions to the window seat only for an hour once or twice a day. With a deep sigh, Nettie promised. She didn't much feel like running about anyway. All her bruises ached today, and some were starting to itch. Her arm still throbbed, but her head was clearing. She did convince him to allow four hour sleep shifts instead of two. Small victories were still victories, she supposed.
Still unable to manage much in the way of solid food through her swollen lips, she ate Mrs. VanCleve's oatmeal with cinnamon and honey. From now on, she decided, that's the way she was going to fix it as well. She had to remind herself not to lick the bowl. Diana disappeared through the bathroom adjoining their two rooms. She started water running in the tub and then returned with a large shopping bag.
"Come on. I'm sure you can't wait to take a bath." A teasing smile curved her crimson lips.