Ruthless King

Grumbling to himself, he turned around. This was ridiculous. She was ill. She should let him help her.

There were rustling noises then he heard a door shut. Turning, he saw that the bathroom door was closed.

Crap.

He stood there, wondering what he should do. She shouldn’t really be in there on her own, should she?

Regent wasn’t used to taking care of sick people. Lottie had gotten sick a few times, but Gerald had prepared all her food and medicine. And if she was very ill, Regent had hired a nurse.

He paced back and forth, debating with himself about whether he should go in until the door opened again.

“Are you all right?” He stepped in front of her.

“Bed. I want my bed.”

She slumped forward and he grabbed her. Picking her up, he carried her to the bed. When he laid her down, he realized she hadn’t washed her face.

Sitting next to her, he picked up the thermometer.

“Open your mouth, baby.”

“No.”

“Jilly,” he said sternly.

“Nope.”

“Jilly, open your mouth. Now.”

“I don’t have to do what you say.”

“You do have to do what I say. Open your mouth.”

“For years, I wanted to hear those words. Dreamed about it. But does he say it how I want him to say it? No . . . all he wants to do is stick something plastic in there. Well, I don’t want plastic!”

She didn’t want plastic? What did she want?

“You don’t have a glass thermometer.”

“Don’t want glass either.”

All right. Enough. She wasn’t making any sense and he needed to take her temperature. This was a matter of her health.

“Jilly. Open. Right. Now.” He used his sternest voice.

She sniffled. A tear dripped down her face.

Oh. Fuck.

22

Damn it.

She was good.

Regent tried to remain stern. “Don’t do that.”

With a sniffle, she stared up at him with wide eyes. “Do what?”