Page 101 of Raul
“No twisting,” she promised, relief flooding her. She would check her mobility in the morning, just to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.
“There’s a selection of T-shirts and sweats in the closet there.” The doctor pointed to a door. “I’ll leave you to change.”
As he left and closed the door behind him, she hopped off the examination table and looked down at her dress. The fabric had not handled being doused in seawater well, taking on a weird crinkly texture. The right side had a gaping hole where the doctor had cut it away to treat the wound. And the skirt was so short she was suddenly embarrassed.
She stripped it off and dropped it in the trash can with a sigh.
Pulling on a warm, dry T-shirt, sweatshirt, and sweatpants was sheer heaven. Rubber sandals completed her ensemble. Honestly, she was more comfortable now than she had been in her dress and high-heeled sandals…and what did that say about her?
She checked to make sure the strip of Raul’s shirt was still tucked safely into her bra. She would treasure it as a concrete reminder of his tenderness, of the brief time when she could relax into the shelter of his arms without a thought about the future.
A knock sounded on the sick bay door, and her heart leaped. Raul was coming to check on her. Smiling, she yanked the door open. “I’m so glad—”
It was the doctor. Her smile froze as disappointment sucked away her excitement.
“I don’t think that smile was for me,” he said with a rueful gleam in his eyes. “I’ve come to escort you to a cabin where you can rest until we get back to port.”
“You’re very kind,” she said, following him down the narrow hallway. He opened a door and waved her into a tiny space with a narrow, neatly made bed, a small desk, and a tall locker.
“Bathroom’s two doors down the hall,” the doctor said. “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”
The metal desk chair looked uninviting, so she plunked down on the bed. Based on the motion and the sound of the engines, the ship was moving at fairly high speed now.
So where was Raul? Should she go in search of him?
She shook her head. It was a large ship, and she had no idea where he would be. Besides, he was undoubtedly in the midst of cleaning up the fallout from this harebrained—but successful!—rescue mission. He didn’t need her interrupting.
Still, her yearning to see him, to feel his arms around her, yanked at her heart.
And then the terrible realization struck. Now that the dragon and her eggs had been retrieved, there was no reason for Raul to see her again. Their joint project had ended, and that meant their relationship would too.
Suddenly, grief swept through her, draining away her will to stay upright on the bed. She kicked off her sandals and pulled up the scratchy blanket folded at the foot of the bed, curling up on her left side into a ball of misery before, amazingly, she fell asleep.
Raul allowed himself to limp down the hallway since no one was watching. His ankle throbbed, reminding him that he had abused it badly today. He knocked softly on the door of the cabin the doctor had directed him to. “Erica?”
He knocked again and then tried the door handle, finding it unlocked. Easing it open, he leaned into the room and said quietly, “Erica?”
There she was, her hair in tangles on the pillow, her hand tucked under her chin, her vivid face relaxed into the ease of sleep. He started to reach down to stroke her cheek but stopped himself. She needed the rest.
Instead, he silently turned the desk chair to face her and sat, grateful to ease the weight on his ankle.
His gaze lingered on the sweet curve of her cheek, the gleam of light catching in her dark hair, the delicate whorls of her ear, and the rise and fall of her breathing.
God, he wanted to touch her, his beautiful, courageous, clever… What was she?
Su corazón.His heart.
That’s what she was. And saying goodbye to her would tear that heart right out of his chest. Yet he had to do it before he fell even more deeply in love with her. He could not offer her a future together, so he needed to end it now, before it hurt both of them even worse.
Will it hurt her?He scanned her face as though he could somehow read her emotions. She had made a point to call himSu Alteza Realin a way that held undertones of something different from a formality. Was it her way of keeping her distance? Or a reminder that he should keep his?
Still, he had believed—no, hoped—there was a depth of feeling there. She was so honest that she couldn’t have responded to him as she did without having her heart involved, could she?
He flinched. If he really had captured her heart, he should regret it, not wish it were true. Because that meant their parting would cause her pain, and it would be his fault.
Yet he couldn’t help longing to know that she cared about him, that she would miss him as much as he would miss her.
He reached out to feather his fingers over a strand of her hair where it lay on the pillow, trying to imprint its silken texture on his memory. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away and kissed his fingertips as though that would somehow transfer to Erica’s skin.
