Page 115 of High Treason
In her pajamas. Sleepy. Weak. Under the influence of a sleeping pill. But she smelled better, and her hair was clean. She glanced at the food and picked up a date. “I’m ready.”
The men walked in stiffly and gathered at the foot of the bed. A rather comical procession.
“I’m not armed and dangerous,” she said.
“Neither have you lost your sense of humor.” Kord grinned, and her pulse sped.
“You look better than when you arrived.” Ali spoke in the gentle tone he used only for her.
“Thank you all for taking care of me. I’m a horrible patient.”
“We’re not surprised, Miss Alden,” the prince said. “High-level achievers have difficulty when situations slow them down.”
“I’ll try harder to be civil.” A cough rose in her chest, and it went on far too long. Drat, it hurt.
“The doctor gave us your instructions, and we have an antibiotic prescription to fill. I’ll talk to my sisters about a regimen to help you regain your energy.”
Her eyes moistened, and she warred against her emotions. “Prince Omar, I’m supposed to be protecting you, not allowing you to hover over me. Would you rather I be replaced?”
“Not at all. I’ve grown fond of you. We all have.” He looked at Kord. “I’ll leave you to speak with Miss Alden while Ali and I prepare ourselves for the hospital trip.”
“Is Princess Gharam okay?” If only she could crawl out of this bed and join them. But she had an idea, something she could accomplish while stuck recuperating.
“My mother is fair, but we’re not visiting her. Youssof Dagher is conscious, and I have questions for him. Mind the doctor, Miss Alden. That’s a royal order.”
Prince Omar and Ali left her and Kord alone. She wanted answers, but he pointed to her plate.
“Eat, and I’ll talk before you fall asleep.”
She blew out her frustration, so unladylike. When had she ever second-guessed appropriate behavior? “I hate taking meds.”
“So I’ve heard.”
She bit into a piece of warm bread. “I’m listening.”
“I recorded what little was said.” He reached for his phone. “Sending it to you now.”
She grasped the spoon for the soup. Her hands trembled like a decrepit old woman’s, and she quickly laid it down. Kord would not see her this way.
“Monica—” his voice was soft—“I can help you.”
She blinked. Despised herself. “No thanks.”
“I won’t tell anyone. You can depend on me, and you need nourishment.”
She peered into his brown eyes and almost agreed. Almost. “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”
He laughed. “Do I make you nervous?”
“Always.” The word slipped out before she could stop it.
He leaned over and kissed her lightly. “You should be kissed every day. I’m heading out without my partner, and I don’t like it. So eat, sleep, and take your meds.”
“I appreciate your putting up with me.” For a moment she forgot about the burden of this mission weighing on them.
Many times she wished she’d never set eyes on Kord, but he kept crawling closer to her heart. Pushing away was the only thing within her control, but she welcomed him at the same time.
She believed in the power of God working in the world. But why hadn’t He stopped her before she made mistakes with Liam?
