Free Jo Goodman by My Steadfast Heart

that kind of pain was enough to make her quiet.
    Having no reason to trust her sudden stillness, especially while she was armed, Colin brought down the side of his hand in a swift chopping motion. It fell across the narrow bones of her wrist like a cleaver. Mercedes's hand opened convulsively and the dagger slipped out. Colin grabbed it and flung it across the room. It clattered across the dresser top and came to rest very near his own.
    There was a short silence, punctuated only by their harsh breathing. Then Colin released Mercedes's hair and shoved, sending her tumbling out of bed and onto the floor. She came down hard on her bruised hip. The jarring rush of pain brought tears to her eyes. She cried out, curling into a ball to protect herself from another blow. When it didn't come she remained there without moving and bit her lower lip to keep from whimpering out loud.
    Colin rose from the bed on the opposite side and shrugged out of his torn shirt. He yanked the petticoat he had repaired off the chair and tore at the flounce. It came away easily in his hands. He dipped it into the tub, wrung it out, then used it to wipe away the blood on his chest. The scratch was mostly superficial. There was a deeper puncture at his shoulder where she had first made contact, and Colin let it bleed freely for a few minutes to reduce the chance of infection. Finally he wadded a piece of the wet bandage and placed it squarely against the wound until the bleeding stopped.
    Colin came around the side of the bed. His upper lip curled in disgust. Mercedes was still lying on her side. He kicked at her feet, not hard, just enough to rouse a response. There was none. Hunkering down, Colin placed his palm on her hip and gave her a nudge. She didn't stir.
    Mercedes had fainted.
    It didn't move him to gentleness. Colin plucked the tumbler off the nightstand, dipped it in the tub water, and tossed it in her face.
    She sputtered, coughed. Mercedes opened her eyes and water ran between her lashes. Sitting up, momentarily panicked, she swiped at her face with her hands and gasped for breath.
    "It's only water," he said. "You're not blinded."
    Mercedes lifted a corner of one of her petticoats and wiped her eyes and cheeks. When her vision had cleared she didn't look at him, but stared down at her hands instead.
    "I hope you're working on an explanation," he said. "I'm not interested in any lies."
    "There's nothing to explain," she said dully. Her head ached. Just behind her temples there was a steady throb that made her ears roar. Colin's voice came to her as if distorted by water or wind.
    "I beg to differ."
    "I think I'm going to be sick."
    Colin reacted swiftly, taking the empty chamber pot from below the nightstand and shoving it into her hands. Mercedes retched immediately. Spasms gripped her body and she clutched the pot to steady herself. Colin pushed her back against the bed frame so she could lean against it. The bed shuddered under the force of her retching. She held the pot until she had been made helpless by the experience. It began to slip out of her hands. Colin caught it and held it for her. His other hand went to the back of her neck where he kept her braid from falling forward.
    In the end her feeble cough signaled she was done. Colin put the chamber pot outside the door. He filled up the tumbler again, this time with fresh water and a touch of whisky, and told her to rinse out her mouth.
    "Rinse," he repeated when she swallowed the first mouthful. "The last thing you need right now is a fire in your belly."
    She nodded weakly and did as she was told. She spit into a second tumbler then repeated the process twice more before he was satisfied. Mercedes rested her head against the mattress while Colin stepped into the hallway and emptied the tumblers into the pot. When he came back, her eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly.
    "Let's put you back in bed," he said.
    That brought her head around and opened her eyes, but there was no