Lorenzo caught Ivy’s arm as she walked clumsily toward him. Outrage flooded his senses and rolled off his tongue like fire. “Why are you up? I told you not to move!”
He was momentarily distracted by the fact that she was wearing his long silk robe. She’d also braided her hair, and Lorenzo wondered why a woman so beautiful would bind her hair in such a manner.
“I had to go to the restroom. I’m sorry, but I can’t just lie there like an invalid on the floor and wish it away. And I certainly didn’t want you to carry me in there.”
He hooked his left arm around her back and almost lifted her as they returned to the fire. She turned around to sit on the bed and he offered his arm for support. Ivy grimaced, unable to pull her legs up, so he lifted them and then propped a pillow beneath her knees once she settled in.
After he closed the door, he returned to give her a piece of his mind.
But she’d fallen asleep, and all he could do was stare in wonderment at her beauty.
Chapter 7
I awoke to a hand pressed firmly over my mouth. Lorenzo’s steely eyes glittered by firelight and filled me with terror.
“Shhh,” he said. “You were having a nightmare and began to scream. I can’t have a woman screaming from my bedroom.”
He slowly pulled his hand away, and I found myself panting.
Lorenzo stood up and rolled a cart to the foot of the bed. Then he returned and, without asking my permission, propped another pillow behind my back. After getting me to a comfortable position sitting up, he moved the food cart beside me and lifted the silver lids.
“Those are very fancy dishes,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I must admit it took me off guard when I saw how ordinary your porcelain toilet was.”
He set a tray on my lap. “I’m having a man come out next week to dip it in gold.”
A laugh pealed out of me and I covered my mouth. “Does your pack know I’m here?”
He regarded me with serious eyes. “No, so hearing a woman screaming from my bedroom wouldn’t be well received.”
“Why would saving my life be a secret?”
He took a seat in the chair to my right, distancing himself on the other side of the fireplace. “Wolves are nosy when a new bitch is in the house.”
I speared him with my glare. “I’m not in your pack, so don’t refer to me as a bitch. It’s an inappropriate use of the word, but I won’t hold a grudge against you because of your lack of manners. I’ll repay you for the kindness you’ve shown.”
Lorenzo waved his hand dismissively. “Your reward would be but a paltry sum.”
“Who said it would be monetary?”
His brow arched. “And what are you suggesting?”
I shook my head. “Certainly not what you’re implying. People undervalue rewards like generosity and favors. I can restore that chair you’re sitting in. The wood legs need refinishing, and some of the leather has worn.”
Lorenzo stretched his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. The lean muscles on his arms seemed to catch every shadow and flicker of light from the fireplace, making him more dimensional than the man I thought I knew. “You are offering to fix my chair?”
“It must mean something to you if it’s in here.” I lifted a strawberry from my plate and nibbled on the end. “You’re a man who puts a lot of emphasis on money and the value of things. And yet you sit in a weathered chair as if it were a throne.”
The fire popped and his eyes drifted away. “It was my grandmother’s chair.”
My heart warmed. For the first time, I saw a glimpse of the man behind the leader. “You loved her.”
“I was closer to her than my parents. You and I have something in common.”
“What’s that?”
He tilted his head to the side. “That we both lost our mother. My grandmother played an important role in my life. Many things in this room were hers,” he said, pointing at a low dresser at the end of the bed. Indian artifacts adorned it, and yet only this side of the room seemed down to earth, except for the mirror on the ceiling I tried to ignore. The windows along the far wall became a marker of sorts, where the heart of the room ended and the ego began. The space leading toward the bathroom had modern décor—an abstract painting, curved-back chairs, expensive trinkets sitting on a small table. Where one side of the room was warm and humble, the other was cold and soulless. It was as if Lorenzo Church had divided his life in half, never combining the elements of who he was and having harmony.
“It’s respectful of you to keep her things,” I said.
Lorenzo leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together. “Why did you take time to braid your hair? You must be in an immense amount of pain and yet—”
“That’s private.”
He pinched his chin thoughtfully. “How can something so visible be a secret?”
I pulled some of the blanket away and made sure the robe was tucked around me tightly. “The same way a scar can mark a man’s face. You can’t help but notice it, but does that entitle you the right to question him about it?”