“What about Ace? Is he doing okay?” Clare asked from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“My mom told me Dr. Prentiss is working on him now, has him sedated. Apparently the tip of the knife broke off in his abdomen.” Rory’s face was twisted tortuously.

“Maybe we should be there with him.” Clare’s words caught in her throat, and she tried to push away any oncoming tears.

“No, it’s more important for you to heal right now,” Rory said firmly, but she could still see the pain in his eyes.

“But he saved my life, Rory.” She was less effective at holding back the sob this time. “I owe him. We both do.”

“I know, but you’re my priority right now. My mom’s with him, and I promise you that she will take good care of him. We’ll go in the morning once you’ve had some rest.”

Clare nodded, knowing that he was right. Dee was definitely capable of taking care of Ace just as well as, if not better than, she could right now.

“Do you want to wear these?” He turned to her, holding up one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that he pulled out of his drawer.

“Sure, but I’m going to need some help.”

“I think I’m up for the task.” His eyebrows shot up as his eyes feasted on her hungrily.

She stood up and he tossed the clothes onto the bed behind her, then gently untied the straps on Clare’s sling, moving it down and off her arm carefully. She grimaced slightly at the movement but didn’t take her eyes off of him. He was focused on the task, but his eyes were fierce. Gripping the hem of her bloodied shirt, he lifted her good arm out, then slid the fabric over her head and down her injured arm.

His eyes became hooded as his stare raked over her, catching on her lacy brassiere. He swallowed and leaned forward, reaching behind her to pick up his shirt. Her skin shivered at the proximity and he responded by nipping at the skin on her shoulder, before kissing a trail up to her chin.

She moaned, leaning in to him.

“Tá tú go hálainn,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

Finally, he pulled back, leaving her unsteady on her feet as she weaved slightly. He gripped her hip in his large hand, holding her still. He then redressed her in his shirt, even though she could tell he was trying to memorize every inch of her body.

Next she used her free hand to push the waistband of her jeans down, shimmying out of them the rest of the way as Rory helped. She stepped out of her jeans, and he moved her arm back into the sling, gently reattaching the straps over her shoulder.

“All right, that’s the most I can do.” Rory put his hands up and stepped backward.

“What are you talking about?” She grabbed the sweatpants off the bed.

“I can’t, in good conscience, as a man standing in front of a hot woman, get you back into your pants. It’s not natural.”

“Maybe I should leave them off, then?” She tossed the sweatpants to the side and stared at him defiantly, only a hint of a smile revealed.

“The doctor said you needed to sleep, Clare.”

“I know.” She slid farther back onto the bed.

“You’re bad,” he teased as he crawled onto the bed over her.

He slid one hand under her waist as she lay back and pulled her the rest of the way onto the bed so her head was on a pillow. Taking care to avoid touching her injured arm, he pressed his body against hers and kissed her deeply.

After a moment, he pulled away and slid down next to her so that he was lying on his side, facing her. She instantly felt cold at the loss of contact, but he fixed that by pulling her against him. She rested her head on his arm, breathing in the smell of his cologne and finding that she was incapable of not smiling at the moment.

“You should get some rest—the pain medications will wear off soon and you need to heal as soon as possible,” he told her.

“Uh-huh, and you have no ulterior motives for that at all.” Clare twisted her free hand into his shirt.

“The perfect gentleman, as always.”

“We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“A chuisle mo chroí.” He kissed her forehead, but she turned to him with a quizzical look, not understanding what he had said.

“It means that you are the pulse of my heart, you’re the reason it keeps beating, Clare. You bring me to life in a way I never could have on my own.”

“Rory,” she whispered softly, touched at his honesty.

“I love you, Clare. I’m so in love with you, and I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to tell you, but I can’t wait another day. I think I’ve been in love with you since the first day I saw you.”

Clare smiled at him, reaching around to wrap her good arm around his neck and wiggle her body as close to him as possible. She pressed against him and he responded by pulling her in tighter, his hand locking around her lower back.

“Táim i ngrá leat, Rory,” she whispered shyly to him.

Rory’s eyes widened. “Did you just say you’re in love with me in Irish?”

“Well, I tried to—I’m not sure I said it right.” Her cheeks were flushing with embarrassment.

She had researched how to say it days ago, hoping to surprise him.

“It was perfect, and you are perfect.” He smiled and kissed her. “Tá tú iontach.”

“I understood that one!”

“Because I just said it in English first, silly.” He kissed her forehead again.

“You can’t prove that.”

“Go to sleep, silly woman.”

She relished the rumble in his chest against her cheek as he spoke.

Yawning, she nodded and huddled closer against him. It didn’t take long for her to drift off.

—

Clare screamed as Travis lunged at her, knife above his head ready to strike. She punched and kicked with all her might, but not a single blow actually connected. He continued his swift approach and she turned to run, but a familiar splitting pain ran through her arm.

“Clare! Wake up!” Rory was shouting at her when she opened her eyes, panicking. She found herself staring into his beautiful silver eyes, fraught with worry.

“What?” She blinked a few times, feeling confused and shaky.

“You were screaming.” He moved until he was on his side in the bed. She looked around, realizing it was already the next morning and she was back in Rory’s apartment and there was nothing to fear.

She frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why.”

“Nightmare?”

“I guess.” She pushed herself up onto her good elbow. “How’s Ace?”

“Mom said he made it through the surgery pretty well. They got the tip of the knife out and stopped a lot of the internal bleeding. He’s still sedated, though. Dr. Prentiss said he wanted to give his body some time to heal. He is worried Ace will try to do too much too soon, otherwise.” Rory’s misery was painted on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Rory. This is all my fault,” Clare whimpered, feeling so guilty, as she watched him get up out of bed and walk around to her side.

“It’s not, mhuirnín. Ace used to be a fighter dog, remember? Personally, I think the fact that he protected you is a great sign. He was raised to just protect himself—everyone else was the enemy. Not only has he recently become more friendly toward you and a few other people in my life, but now he’s protecting his people, too.”

“He’s an amazing dog.”

“The best,” Rory agreed, helping her to sit up in bed before he picked up a mug from the nightstand and handed it to her. She peered into the mug to see steaming hot coffee, and her stomach grumbled in response.

“When you’re ready, we need to visit Ace and see how he’s doing. After we can head down to the station.”

“Fun,” she grumbled, lifting the coffee and taking a big gulp of the warm liquid. Satisfied as the drink poured down her throat, she smiled.

“We don’t have to go right this second, but better sooner than later. I know it’s not something you’re looking forward to, but it’s important to keep Creighton locked up.”