He squeezed her hand while he said her name. He had to do it three times before her eyes opened.
She glanced up at him, obviously disoriented. “What is it?”
“Nothing important. Go back to sleep.”
With a nod, she closed her eyes and snuggled down deeper into the pillow. He pulled out his pocket watch and noted the time. He’d repeat the process every thirty minutes for the next several hours, just to be safe.
Mitch started to ease back out when he spotted the pile of dirty clothing she’d left on the floor. She’d need something clean to wear whenever she recovered enough to leave the bed. He crossed the room under Rufus’s watchful gaze, gathered up the discarded clothing, then left, pulling the door behind him until only the barest crack remained.
Pausing just long enough to give the soup simmering on the stove another stir, he headed back out.
* * *
Ivy frowned as a soft woof intruded on the peace of her sleep. Rufus did it again and she reluctantly gave up on trying to sink back into oblivion.
“What is it, Rufus?” Even to her, her tone sounded petulant. Then she saw Mr. Parker standing in the doorway and her cheeks heated.
“Sorry if I disturbed you,” he said. “I was just checking to see if you were ready for some soup. If you’d rather continue sleeping, though, the food will keep until you’re ready.”
She eased herself up against the pillows, wincing at the throbbing of her head. “Actually, food sounds good.” Her cheeks heated again as her stomach loudly echoed those sentiments. She certainly wasn’t making a very good impression. “If you give me a minute to collect myself, I’ll join you at the table.” She wondered if there was a robe in that trunk he’d pulled the nightgown from.
But he shook his head. “You stay put and I’ll fetch you a bowl.”
Before she could argue, he changed the subject. “How’s your head?”
“Better.” Not exactly a lie. The throbbing had eased.
From the corner of her eye, she spotted her knife resting in easy reach on the bedside table. It was likely his way of trying to reassure her that she had nothing to fear from him, and her heart softened a little more. He really was a very kind, honorable man. She was no longer worried about his intentions, even though she was still at his mercy.
He stepped closer. “Mind if I check?”
It took her a moment to realize he was referring to her injury, and she turned to give him access to the back of her head. As he bent nearer to study the bandage, she felt suddenly shy and vulnerable. Both feelings were foreign to her and that made her edgy and unsettled. It didn’t help that as he checked the bandage, his hands brushed against the nape of her neck and she shivered in reaction.
It was just an aftereffect of her fall, she told herself.
He stilled. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She tried to keep her tone light. “I guess I’m more woozy than I’d thought.”
“Understandable.” He straightened and stepped back. “I’ll get that soup. Food and rest are what you need.”
He was right—that was all she needed. Then she’d be back to her old self.
She tried to shake off those earlier feelings as she settled more comfortably and watched him exit. Better to focus on the savory smell wafting in from the kitchen. If the aroma was any indication, he was as good a cook as he was a caretaker.
Rufus plastered his front paws onto the mattress. “Hello, boy. I guess I haven’t been very good company the past—” She paused. How long had she slept? Ivy glanced toward the window and frowned at the lengthening shadows. It had obviously been more than an hour or so.
Then her brow furrowed as hazy images of him repeatedly checking in on her floated at the edge of her memory. Had that really happened? Or had she dreamed it?
When he returned a few minutes later carrying a steaming bowl balanced on a tray, she edged up straighter. “How long was I asleep?”
“About six hours.”
“Oh, my goodness. You must think me an awful slugabed.”
“Rest is the best medicine at times like this.”
As he helped her settle the tray onto her lap, she inhaled appreciatively. “Smells good.”
He gave a small smile. “Only because you’re hungry. I don’t usually cook for anyone but myself and I make no claims that it’s more than passable.”
“I’m sure you’re being too hard on yourself.” She picked up the spoon, then frowned when he pulled up a chair. “Aren’t you going to eat something, too?”
“I ate earlier. I’ll get more later.” He settled back in the chair. “I thought I’d keep you company, if that’s okay?”
What was he up to?
Then she took herself to task. She had to stop being so suspicious of menfolk—not everyone was a mean-spirited polecat like Lester Stokes. Mr. Parker was nice and seemed to expect nothing in return. He probably just wanted to make sure she didn’t faint into her bowl while she ate.
She tasted a spoonful, then smiled. “As I suspected, this is a good sight better than merely passable.”
He spread his hands as if to dispute her words but didn’t say anything.
Feeling the need to fill the silence, she asked after her mule. “How’s Jubal doing after that long walk here?”
“He’s had some feed and water, and now he and Seeley are grazing.” He met her gaze squarely. “As for the hoof, I think you were right about the stone bruise. I let him soak it in warm water to try to draw out the infection, but he’s going to need a couple days’ rest, I’m afraid.”
Poor Jubal—she hoped she hadn’t done him permanent harm. But this also meant more delays. Nana Dovie would be worried if she didn’t hear something from her soon. But that wasn’t Mr. Parker’s fault. “It was real nice of you to be looking out for him. And me, too, of course.”
“And how are you feeling now that you’ve had something to eat?”
The way he looked at her one would think he actually cared about her, not just the trouble she was causing. “Much better.” She deposited her spoon in the now empty bowl. “That nap and this meal have fixed me right up.” No need to burden him with her aching head and shaky feeling.
But Mr. Parker didn’t look convinced. “You shouldn’t attempt anything that requires effort today. You need to give yourself time to heal.”
Be that as it may, Ivy certainly didn’t intend to spend what was left of the day in bed.
“Mind if I ask how you came to be out here alone?” he asked.
She took a sip from her glass, trying to decide how much to tell him. She wasn’t much on sharing her personal business with strangers, even kind-hearted ones. “I’ve got business to take care of over in Turnabout. And this shortcut seemed the fastest way to get there.”
“You said you were from somewhere called Nettles Gap? How far away is that?”
“Don’t know how many miles, exactly, but I set out at sunup the day before yesterday.”
He stiffened. “Two days alone on the road.”
It was nice of him to be concerned, but she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. “I wasn’t really alone,” she said, trying to reassure him. “I had Rufus and Jubal with me. And I took precautions.”
But his frown deepened. “By precautions I assume you mean that getup you were wearing and