Roark?” Roark lifted his throbbing head. Miss Deveraux stood in the open doorway to his bedroom. “What’s that?” he asked. He’d been lost in writing in his journal and hadn’t heard her approach, which was very unlike him. “I asked if there’s anything I can get you.” “No thank you, Miss Deveraux.” She glanced at Bronte’s sleeping body. “I’ve never seen one sleep this long under the medicine. Two days.” She shook her head. “And you sir, you haven’t left her side. You need your rest too.” “She’ll be fine, and I’m ok,” he said. “I don’t want her to wake up and be frightened.” “You’re a true gentleman.” “Some would beg to differ, Miss Deveraux.” He heard her leave but kept his eyes on Bronte. She’d fallen into a deep sleep at Azelda’s. He’d carried her home in his arms on Seed Demon and laid her in his bed. He knew the potion that the witch had used would put Bronte out for a while, at least until her body had time to recover from the shock.
