Marked for Marriage (6 page)

Throwing back the blankets, Maddie got out of bed, pasted a bright, cheery smile on her face and left the bedroom to begin her charade.

A
nd thus, ten days after her accident Maddie found herself on her brother's sofa in Whitehorn, Montana, hugging a comforter to herself and staring up at a man who didn't look like a babysitter any more than he did a burglar. She tried to sensibly assimilate the situation. Had Mark really asked this…this weird stranger to keep an eye on her? And if so, had Mark told her that he'd arranged for someone to drop in on her from time to time and the information had slipped through the cracks of her less-than-alert brain?

She narrowed her eyes on Noah. “How did you get in?”

“Through a door. Isn't that how
you
enter someone's home?”

“An unlocked door?” she asked, concerned that Mark might have inadvertently missed locking one of the doors and she hadn't been safe from intruders at all, which she, within the foggy reaches of her mind, had been counting on.

“Nope.” Noah produced the key. “With this.”

The sight of that key panicked her. “You have a key? You mean you can just walk into this house anytime you take the notion?”

Noah stood there looking down at her. She was probably cute as a cuddly little doll when she wasn't black-and-blue, but it was hard for him—with his medical training and experience—to get past the blotchy bruises on her face. Even so, he still felt remnants of that incredible fit of laughter he'd enjoyed—yes,
enjoyed
—only minutes ago. He couldn't remember when he'd let go and laughed so uninhibitedly, and it certainly was the last thing he might have expected from today's begrudged duty. In a way he couldn't quite define but still knew to be true, those moments of uncontrollable laughter had created a bond between him and Maddie Kincaid; she might not feel it, but he did, and some rusty, rather tarnished part of him cherished the sensation.

“I rang the front doorbell and knocked on the side door before using the key,” he said. “I promised Mark that I'd take care of you while he's away, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.” In his own mind Noah realized how he had just expanded his promise to keep an eye on Maddie into
taking care of Maddie,
which gave him a start.

But someone should be caring for her. She certainly didn't appear strong enough to be doing everything for herself. Her weakened condition explained the messy kitchen, of course. What Noah could not comprehend was how Mark could have gone off and left his frail little sister alone in the house. Didn't he realize how badly off Maddie really was?

Noah shed his winter scarf and jacket and laid them on the back of a chair, aware that Maddie Kincaid's eyes had grown wary and suspicious.

“Don't get paranoid just because I took off my jacket,” he told her. “It happens to be hot as Hades in here. What tem
perature do you have the furnace set on?” He looked around. “Where's the thermostat?”

“It's in the kitchen, but don't you dare lower that dial!”

“Maddie, you can't be cold. You're dressed in thermal underwear…” He couldn't help coughing out another laugh over the image that comment conjured up but he managed to stifle it before it got out of hand. After clearing his throat, he continued, “And you're wrapped in a goose down comforter.”

“So?”

Noah frowned as the physician in him took over. “You really are cold? Are you having chills?”

“If I am it's none of your affair,” Maddie retorted, hoping she sounded in keen command of her senses and authoritative. After all, what could she really do to defend herself against
anything
this guy might do? Regardless of her physical ineptitude, though, her mouth and don't-tread-on-my-space attitude were working just fine, and she demanded haughtily, “What do you think you are, a doctor?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He approached the sofa and sat on the sturdy wood coffee table, which had been in the way when he'd carried Maddie back to her bed but was handy as all get-out now. “Let me take your pulse.”

Maddie was gawking at him with her mouth open. He was a doctor?
Yeah, right.
“Oh, like I should believe you?”

Noah reached into the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet, which he flipped open right in front of Maddie's face so she could see his medical ID card. “What does that say?” he asked a bit smugly.

She studied the photo on the card and then Noah's face and realized with a sinking sensation that he was almost unbelievably handsome. He was, in fact, the kind of man that idiot women the world over—of which she was
not
one, thank you very much—chased after like a dog on the scent of a bone. This guy had thick black hair, eyebrows and lashes, vivid blue
eyes, a sensual, kissable mouth if she'd ever seen one, and a strong masculine chin that announced a massive stubborn streak. With his height and build, he was one drop-dead package, which was unnerving for a woman whose few romantic relationships had been with your everyday, average-looking men.

But his stunning good looks and normally noble profession didn't make him trustworthy, and she
didn't
trust him. Why would she? Doctor or not, he had walked into this house without an invitation from her, which, in her estimation, was an invasion of privacy, whatever he might call it. Well, he was going to find out that she was no pansy, however he made his living. Instead of giving him the satisfaction of a straightforward answer to his irritating question about his ID, she drew her left hand from under the comforter and held it out. “So, go ahead and take my pulse, if that's what turns you on.”

“Turns me on?” Noah chuckled. “You're quite the little comic, aren't you?” He took her wrist and counted pulse beats while looking at his watch. “Apparently
you
think so,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “You got positively hysterical when you first saw me.”

Noah tucked her hand and wrist back under the comforter. Her pulse was a little too fast; he needed a temperature and blood pressure check.

“You'd have gotten hysterical, too, if you could have seen yourself. What did you think you were going to do with that paperweight? Wait, I know, you thought you'd laugh me to death.”

“You're so corny you should be ashamed to open your mouth and say one word.”

“Yep, that's me, old cornball himself.” Noah stood up. “I want to take you to the hospital.”

Maddie scoffed. “Just try it and you'll think you got hold of a wildcat, buster. Oh, excuse me, that's
Dr.
Buster.”

“Maddie, I need to run some tests. You could have an infection.”

“Read my lips. I am
not
going to the hospital. Besides, I'm taking antibiotics so I do not have an infection.”

“Where are they? I want to see what it is that you're taking.”

Maddie had to think a minute. “They're probably on the kitchen table.”

Noah found them and returned. “Okay, these aren't too bad, but you might need something stronger. Maddie, do you have a doctor in Whitehorn?”

“No…not yet.” She closed her eyes because she was getting very tired again. Being brave and courageous with very little strength as she'd been doing since “Dr. Buster” had intruded upon her rest was rapidly depleting her already low energy level.

“Go away,” she mumbled. “I need to sleep.”

Noah did go away; he headed for Mark's bathrooms. Searching the medicine cabinets, he finally found what he was looking for—a thermometer. Dousing it in alcohol, which was also in the same cabinet, he hurried back to Maddie.

“Open your mouth,” he told her. “I'm going to take your temperature.”

“No, leave me alone,” she mumbled thickly.

“Maddie, open your mouth!” Noah worked the tip of the thermometer between her lips, and she finally stopped fighting him. In a couple of minutes he had his answer. Her temp was 101.6 degrees, not dangerously high but too high to ignore. He could force her to go to the hospital by calling an ambulance and giving her a knockout shot, but that seemed pretty drastic at this point. But to do anything at all for her, he needed his medical bag, some supplies and a different antibiotic.

“Maddie, listen to me. I'm going to leave for a few minutes. I won't be long. You stay covered up and rest, all right?” He
didn't wait for a reply. Grabbing his jacket, he put it on as he strode through the house to the kitchen door and went outside. Using Mark's key, he turned the inside dead bolt, giving Maddie the security she'd obviously thought she'd had all along. One of two things had happened, Noah reasoned: Mark hadn't locked the door before leaving, which Noah couldn't quite believe, as Mark Kincaid was a very dependable sort, or Maddie, for some reason, had unlocked it and then forgot to
re
lock it. In her present state, she could do almost anything and then forget it. How in God's name had Mark not noticed?

During the cross-town drive to the hospital, Noah thought about Maddie's medications. Besides the antibiotic pills, she also had a bottle of painkillers, and Noah had to wonder exactly how much pain she was in. From the soft cast on her hand, her accident hadn't caused too much damage as far as injured bones went, but then there were the discolored bruises and healing abrasions on her face to consider. Even so, were a few scrapes that were well on the way to full recovery causing enough pain for Maddie to be taking strong pain-blocking medication? He didn't like her slurred words and the hard time she seemed to have focusing her eyes.

There was one other possibility, though. She could have further bruising—possibly quite severe—under her clothes. He would have to check that out when he got back to the house.

And then, just before reaching the physician's parking area at the hospital, Noah finally let his thoughts go to that tingle deep in his belly that any man in his right mind would recognize. He hadn't felt it in a very long time, and why he should feel it now because of a little bit of a woman with the attitude of a guard dog was a total mystery. In the first place Maddie Kincaid was not the type of female he'd ever been attracted to. When he'd been in the market for
affaires d'amour
he'd
liked his women tall, long-legged and sophisticated. Maddie hardly fit the bill.

And yet that tingle was unmistakably present. Not that he would ever do anything about it. Along with his possessing a distinct distaste for the complications of a romantic liaison, Maddie was Mark's sister. A man with any self-respect and dignity did not lure a friend's sister into bed just to satisfy a ridiculous tingling in his system.

Besides, Maddie needed medical attention far more than she needed anything personal from him, or any other man.

Still puzzling over Mark and Darcy leaving Maddie alone as they'd done, Noah walked into the hospital. He was ready to leave again in about twenty minutes, this time with his medical bag. It was packed full of items he thought he might need in caring for Maddie, and he
was
going to care for her. He suspected she'd yell—or try to yell—and that her objections to his even being in the house might make a very long list, but he was not going to let her chase him off. Not only because he'd given his word to Mark to keep an eye on her, but because in his professional opinion Maddie needed more than just a casual now-and-again glance.

Even before actually leaving the hospital, Noah saw the falling snow through some windows. Setting down his bag, he took the gloves from his jacket pocket, pulled them on and then continued his trek to the outside door nearest the physician's parking area. Outdoors it seemed to be a little warmer than it had earlier and the snow was not yet a heavy downfall. The flakes, which were small and feathery, fluttered to the earth from a pale-gray sky that appeared smooth and almost satiny.

Noah frowned over that upward view. He'd seen that deceptively innocent sky once before since moving to Montana, and it had buried the town in two-to five-foot snowdrifts before blowing itself out. He usually listened to morning radio while
showering and dressing, and the snowstorm that had been predicted for several days now had obviously arrived.

Before he reached his vehicle, a powerful gust of wind blew snow in his face, which was one more sign that the encroaching storm might be a true blizzard. Once settled in his SUV with the engine running, Noah checked his bag to make sure he had his cell phone with him. It was a safety precaution that probably wasn't necessary; electricity and telephone service weren't
always
disrupted during a storm.

But he drove away from the hospital feeling better knowing that if the storm got really bad and he happened to get stuck or stranded somewhere he could always call for assistance.

By the time Noah got back to Mark's house—a ten-minute drive in good weather, about twenty minutes this trip—he was positive that the storm had already turned meaner. If that was really the case, this storm could be one for the books, he thought as he pulled into Mark's driveway. Carrying his medical bag, he kept his head down and quick-stepped to the house.

Inside he felt as though he'd just stepped into an oven. Setting his bag on a chair, he shed his outdoor gear and found the wall thermostat, which he turned down. Then he hurried to the living room to check on Maddie.

The small lump in the comforter looked as though it hadn't budged at all in his absence, so Noah cautiously pulled back the top of the blanket to see Maddie's face. She appeared to be in a deep sleep, but he had to make sure that a nurturing sleep was all that was happening with her. Gently touching her neck just below her jaw with the tips of his fingers, he felt her pulse and took note of the temperature and moisture of her skin. She wasn't sweating, nor was her skin hot and feverish to the touch. He would let her sleep for the time being.

Carefully returning the blanket to its former position, Noah returned to the kitchen, rolling up the long sleeves of his shirt
as he went. He knew he was a neat freak, but he couldn't help despising dirty dishes. Of course, Maddie had an excuse, he reminded himself while stacking the dishwasher and then wiping down flat surfaces with a clean, slightly soapy dishcloth.