From France, With Love by Tamara Gill

Author:Tamara Gill [Gill, Tamara]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780648413387
Google: hsz-yAEACAAJ
Amazon: B07SJ8PLNT
Goodreads: 46135582
Publisher: Tamara Gill
Published: 2019-08-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The next two days were a blur of pain and restless moments of sleep. No matter which way she moved in bed, or walked about the house, the action caused her hand to shift and therefore her severely sprained wrist to ache.

Ava rolled over in bed, the morning sunlight streaming into her room and pulling her from sleep. The sight of a male form sitting in a chair beside her bed pushed all sleep from her body. She sat up, cringing as her wrist protested the movement. “Tate, what are you doing in my room?” she looked about quickly, noting they were alone. “You should not be in here,” she whispered.

Tate sat on a chair, a discarded book laying open in his lap. He leaned toward the bed, reaching for her hand. “I came early to watch Titan on the gallops and wanted to be here when you woke. I brought you up some breakfast,” he stood and walking to a sideboard in her room, picked up the tray and placed it beside her on the bed. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

Ava adjusted herself on her pillows. “Other than my wrist aching, the rest of me feels very well. The tisanes Hallie has been having made for me work very well. I’m not sure what she’s having put in them, but whatever herb she’s found is very beneficial. I’m thankful for her company.” She glanced down at the bandaging about her wrist, her shift gaping a little at her throat. Ava clasped her blankets and pulled them up over her chest. Tate stared at her a moment, before he sighed, coming to sit on her bed.

“I was so scared there was more to the injury and I cannot tell you how thankful I am, you were not shot. The doctor says you will be fine, after a week or two of rest.”

Leaning back on the pillows she could imagine what she looked like. A woman who’d been unable to do a lot for herself these past three days, and having just woken up, her hair would be askew, her eyes puffy from sleep. And yet, the look of utter adoration that she read on Tate’s face reminded her of how he used to look at her when they were courting.

“Do you remember when you taught me how to swim?” she asked, watching him.

He smiled, nodding a little. “I do. You had me showing you all these different strokes that I was so worldly and knowledgeable about and all the while you already knew how to swim. I discerned in that instant you were trouble.”

Ava chuckled, remembering he’d gone as red as a beet when she’d told him the truth of her ability. “You were so embarrassed and thought I’d tricked you. Which in a way I had, I suppose?”

He looked down at the bed, his finger following the line of the embroidered flowers on her bedding. “What made you think of that time?” he asked, looking up and catching her gaze.

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