Page 13 of Provoked

When they file out of the room, his fingers clamp down on my wrist. I know what he wants — an explanation. “You want to know why they think we’re married, don’t you?”

Yes, his fingers pulse. Theright nowis implied because it’s Justin.

“I told them that so they wouldn’t say I couldn’t see you or stay with you. Someone hit you deliberately, Justin. They might have thought you were me… but it wasn’t an accident. Fred is on his way.”

His fingers tighten and while I’m pleased at the sign his strength is returning, it’s starting to hurt. “I can’t quite interpret that one. If you’re unhappy about any of that, I’m sorry, but it’s too late now.”

His fingers pulse twice. “Okay, yes is one, and no is two, so you’re not unhappy about that, but something else?”

One pulse. Well, at least I won’t be bored. “I promised Fred I would stay in the hospital until he could get here and investigate. Does that make you feel better?” I offer slightly.

Yes, his fingers respond. I smile wistfully and brush the hair out of his eyes. They’re closed, so it’s not bothering him, but it makes me feel better to fuss a little.

8

I’m living in a thick fog of pain and confusion. The pain is mostly masked by what I recognize as strong painkillers, but it leaves a residue of discomfort all the same. My eyes stay shut. I’m not sure if I can open them or not. It mostly seems like too much effort to try. Plus, the world is spinning off its axis at the very thought of Ingrid as my wife. Anybody’s wife, but particularly mine. She’s way too young to be thinking about marriage. And yes, I understand why she fabricated a relationship. It was probably a smart thing to do under the circumstances.

There’s something about the accident I can’t remember. Okay, I can’t remember anything. But there’s a detail my brain is attempting to alert me to that I need to remember. It’s important. But every time I try, the fog grows thicker. Ingrid steps away for a minute and I feel bereft. She’s become my touchstone with reality — the world outside the fog and I worry without her it may just swallow me up. For myself, that’s no real loss to the world, but I need to keep her safe. And to dothat, I have to emerge from it. I wait impatiently for her to come back.

But it’s not Ingrid’s soothing voice I hear next. It’s an echo of far more strident tones from my past.Margot.The name comes to me and for some reason my belly tenses.

“How the fuck are you still alive, asshole?” she mutters as she moves closer to the bed. This time I make a concerted effort to open my eyes. I manage the barest of slits just in time to see her reach for a tube.

Ingrid steps into the room, blurry to my limited vision but beautiful all the same. I want to shout at her to get out, but nothing, not even a croak, emerges.

“What are you doing?” Ingrid demands, sounding panicked. She moves to push Margot out of the way, but the older woman is stronger. Ingrid pushes on Margot’s shoulder hard and reaches for the call button with her other hand. She makes it just as Margot slaps her hard across the face. Ingrid must have been off balance because she goes sailing down to the floor. My heart stops. Nurses rush in.

Margot turns as sweet as pie. “I’m his wife. I only just heard about the accident. I got here as quick as I could.”

“I thought she was his wife?” One of the nurses helps Ingrid up. I can’t see any of this, but I’m reading between the voices and the small moan from Ingrid.

“That little tramp? She’s barely out of school,” Margot scoffs. I need to end this. Now.

I muster everything I’ve got to say just two little words. “Ing. Wife.” Then my eyes slam shut and I’m out.

My cheek is on fire — and my ass from where I landed isn’t far behind. But thank God I’m wearing my jeans today because I don’t think those cheap scrubs would have survived the scuffle.

I ignore the pain from Margot’s assault, to focus on the relief that Justin managed those two whispered words. As soon as he said them, the nurses rallied, turning accusing looks at the redhead. I’m not surprised they entertained some doubt at the beginning. She looks much more like the person who should be his wife. Attempting to kill him, though…

“She was tugging on some tubes when I came in,” I whisper urgently to the nearest nurse, Rosa.

She frowns and goes to check everything. She adjusts some things and slaps a fresh length of tape over his IV shunt. “He’s fine. Anna’s making a call to the police now.”

I watch in shock as Margot slips out the door. “Shouldn’t someone stop her?”

“Security is alerted. We aren’t supposed to engage,” Rosa answers me with a sympathetic glance. “Let’s get you a cold pack for your cheek. On the house,” she adds with a grin.

I crack a weak smile in response. I don’t particularly care if I get a black eye, as long as Justin’s recovery hasn’t been compromised. And where the hell is Fred?

It turns out security wasn’t keeping as careful an eye as they should. A simple headscarf allowed Margot to slip out the exit to the garden patio and from there, through an open maintenance gate and out to the main car park. All caught on video clear as day, but the human monitoring the cameras at the time missed it entirely. It only came to light after I started asking questions as the panic and adrenaline began receding. But I have to make do with the staff and management willing to face my wrath in Justin’s room. Just to be on the safe side, they alsoscrubbed down his room and now it smells even more strongly of disinfectant.

I’m so unnerved by the incident that I’m loath to leave Justin’s side, even for a few minutes. It’s doubtful Margot would try something again so soon and risk arrest, but I can’t be sure. The nurses take pity on me and fetch me food from the cafeteria when they go on break. I’m grateful, but wondering how long we can keep this up.

Two days later, as I’m attempting to focus on the arrogant duke and failing miserably, Justin’s eyes pop open. This time they’re not simply slitted and his gaze is sharp as ever.

“Justin?” I quaver, almost afraid to hope.

His voice is raspy and hesitant when he speaks hesitantly. “Please tell me it was a nightmare. Margot didn’t really try to kill me. Twice. And you didn’t proclaim us married to the world?” His voice is husky and weak, but his spirit is clearly undamaged.

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