Page 67 of Fight for Me

“It’s a well-stocked cabin,” he said. “Plenty of wood and canned goods.”

He spooned some soup to her mouth. Anne obediently swallowed. It was the best soup she’d ever had, but that may be due to the fact that she was famished.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. “You could’ve left me.”

“That’s not who I am.”

Anne’s soul sank. She couldn’t run from what she’d done. Even if she’d been misled. She was the whole reason they were in this situation. And he was saving her even though he must despise her.

She turned away. “Leave me alone.”

He hesitated. “You need to eat.”

“Leave me alone,” she repeated. At the moment, she didn’t care if tomorrow came or not.

A few moments passed. Then Blane’s hand cradled her chin and turned her to face him.

“I’m not going to leave you,” he said. “How do you feel?”

Anne took stock of her body. “Better. No more blurred vision.”

“Good. And the ankle?”

She realized there was a bag of something cold on it. “Sore, but better, too.”

He helped her sit up and then handed her the bowl of soup. She hungrily scarfed it down. Her arms and legs ached. And her head still hurt.

“Does this place have a tub?” she asked. A good long soak in hot water sounded fantastic.

“It does. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have it ready for you.”

Blane walked out of her line of vision as Anne finished the soup and set aside the bowl with a sigh. Her mind was struggling to keep up. The man she’d betrayed and almost had killed was now running her a bath. How was this even possible? Was it some kind of trick?

She leaned back against the couch with a sigh, too tired to try to dissect it. She was afraid to believe him. What if this was some kind of revenge? Anne was nowhere in league with Blane’s level of playing field if this was his game now.

A few minutes later, Blane reappeared. “The bath is ready.”

Without asking, he picked her up, easily hefting her weight and carrying her to the bathroom. Steam filled the room and the wet heat eased the ache in her bones.

He set her on the edge of the tub, making sure she was steady before stepping away.

“Call if you need any help,” he said, then left, closing the door behind him.

Anne shed the blankets and sank into the tub. A deep sigh left her lips as the water closed over her aching and abused body.

She relaxed for a while, then did the business of washing her hair and body with the contents of the bottles lining the tub. Lavender seemed to be the prevailing scent, which she appreciated. The water cooled and it was time to get out. But as she rose to step out of the tub, her ankle gave way and she let out an involuntary cry of pain. She sank back into the water as the door was thrown open. Blane stepped through.

“Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Anne hesitated, but then was truthful. “I can’t stand to get out of the tub.” Heat flooded her face. She’d never had to depend on anyone else in her life for something as simple as getting out of the bathtub. But here she was.

“Not a problem,” he said.

Blane grabbed a towel and pulled the plug on the tub. Anne didn’t try to cover herself. That seemed too juvenile. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen breasts and what was between a woman’s thighs before.

She reached for the towel he held. But Blane was already sliding his arm underneath her back and lifting.

In another moment, she was cradled in his arms, wrapped in a towel. Her wet hair trailed down her back. The feel of Blane’s body against hers kept her silent and enthralled. Her thoughts seemed scattered. But Blane was still the center of everything.

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