Cyborg Nation (30 page)

“What are you doing?” he demanded, striding to stand over her and glare at her.

She was too tired to have much energy for anger but she sent him a look of resentment anyway. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

He studied her a moment and then the rock. “Trying to climb onto the rock. I see this. I just do not understand why you want to sit on it. The floor is more smooth.”

Bronte let out an irritated huff. “I don’t want to sit on the rock. I want to get up. I can’t stand up without help, though.”

His expression hardened. “You are injured. You need to rest.”

He meant well, Bronte decided. He just didn’t understand that
just
resting wasn’t going to help her get better. “If I don’t get up and try, I’m not
going
to get stronger. I’ll get weaker.”

He looked unsettled by that comment, and then suspicious. “This is not only because you do not like for me to help you ‘go’?”

Bronte reddened. “No,” she said testily. “It’s because I’m a doctor and I know that I have to
work
to get better.”

He still didn’t look as if he believed her but he finally knelt, looked her over for a moment as if trying to decide how to get her on her feet without hurting her and finally caught her beneath her arms. Relieved she wasn’t going to have to try to put rock climbing to the test, Bronte placed her hands on his shoulders and pushed up with her good leg as he lifted her. She thought for several moments after she stood that she was going to faint.

“I knew you should not try this,” Gideon said angrily. “You are too stubborn for your own good.”

“No,” Bronte said faintly. “Well, I guess I am a little stubborn, but I meant this isn’t stubbornness. And it
is
a bad sign to feel so lightheaded, but it means I should’ve been trying to get up before, not that I shouldn’t be trying now.”

His expression said he didn’t believe her but obviously there was just enough doubt in his mind that he was willing to go along with her determination.

“Now I need to walk a little,” she said once the dizziness had passed. Tightening her hand on his arm, she took a step and dragged the leg she couldn’t bend. He walked beside her, supporting more of her weight, probably, than she was while she struggled to take a dozen steps. His expression was taut when she finally asked him to help her down.

“Now you will be ill again,” he said tightly when she lay limply on the floor, fighting for breath at the little bit of exertion.

“Now I’ll be better,” she argued. “Will you help me walk again later?”

He looked torn. “Rest now. We will see.”

“It would be easier without the splint,” she said tiredly.

“The frame broke. I do not think it will mend as quickly as the flesh.”

Bronte opened her eyes to peer at him blankly for a moment before she realized he had no familiarity with bones. “It will, and it isn’t that I’m not grateful that you realized it would have to be lined up again and held in place—I am. I would’ve been crippled if you hadn’t. I’m just complaining because it makes it harder to walk.”

He nodded but he seemed anxious to leave so she didn’t try to keep him any longer.

It was no easier the next several times she forced herself to walk and she had no idea whether she was making any progress at all. She ached worse that night. Gideon fumed when he noticed, but thankfully kept his thoughts to himself.

By the next day, though, she felt stronger. She didn’t ask him or either of the others to help her walk. She crawled over to the rock and then up onto it, rested briefly, and then used handholds along the cave wall to pull herself into a standing position. She was sweating from the effort but so pleased with herself that she grinned broadly at Gideon in spite of the furious glare he sent her when he discovered what she’d done. “I got up by myself!”

“I see that,” he growled. “You could have fallen.”

She frowned at him. “Don’t be such a grouch. I didn’t fall, and I was strong enough to get up by myself.”

He relaxed slightly when she pointed that out. “Even so, do not try that again. I will come and help you up and help you walk until you are stronger. Or Gabriel or Jerico can help you if they are here and I am not.”

Spoilsport, she thought irritably, refusing to allow his disapproval to ruin her good mood. “If I had a crutch, I think I could start walking without any help.”

He frowned. “What is a crutch?”

She wasn’t surprised he didn’t know what a crutch was. “I need something that would reach from the floor to just beneath my arm to help me balance and still keep my weight off the injured leg—something straight. And it would need to be strong but not too heavy,” she said hopefully.

He looked her over as if he was gauging her length and finally left again without a word. Just before dark, Gabriel brought her a crudely wrought crutch made out of what she thought might have been a young tree, except it had a crook at the top that slipped perfectly beneath her arm. She was so happy, she caught his face in both hands and kissed him. She’d only meant to give him a peck of affection, but not surprisingly he wasn’t familiar with that. As soon as her lips made contact with his, he responded with an open mouthed kiss that assured her she was well on the road to recovery.

She sat back dizzily and smiled at him.

He smiled back at her.

And then Gideon, who’d witnessed the whole thing, stalked across the cave floor and slugged him on the side of the jaw hard enough Gabriel sprawled out.

“What did you do that for?” Gabriel demanded furiously as he sat up.

“You do not touch Bronte until she is well!” Gideon growled.

Gabriel looked uncomfortable but still angry. “I only kissed her, and she kissed me first!”

Bronte reddened guiltily when Gideon sent her an irritated glare.

“You are not well enough for that!”

She glared back at him. “It was only supposed to be a kiss of affection for making the crutch for me!”

Both men stared at her uncomprehendingly.

“Like the cuddling?” Gabriel finally asked.

Pleased that Gabriel had made the connection so quickly, Bronte smiled at him. “Yes. Like the cuddling.”

“I do not know what this cuddling is, but I do not want you cuddling her either!” Gideon said testily.

“I was keeping her warm!” Gabriel snapped indignantly.

“Oh. Why did you not say that? Never mind. Do not keep her warm either unless you have your cock in your loincloth! I will cut it off and shove it up your ass if I catch it any where near her cunt!”

Bronte watched him stalk away with a mixture of indignation and … pleasure at his thoughtfulness. She thought that was what it was, concern for her well being. She decided to interpret it that way anyway. It had made her feel as if he was protecting her because he was worried about her and that was all that really mattered.

She had to fight both Gabriel and Jerico off of her the first time she tried to use the crutch. She’d waited until Gideon wasn’t in the cave to try because she’d known he would be determined to help. “Thank you, but no,” she said firmly. “I have to do this myself.”

They hovered anyway, convinced she couldn’t—which only made her more determined to do it. Instead of looking relieved when she’d managed to stand using only the crutch for support, they only looked more angry and upset and doggedly followed her step for step as she took her first practice run with the crutch. Every time she wobbled, they threw their arms out to catch her until she was a nervous wreck and cussed them out and tried to run them off--tried, because they refused to leave or to stop following her around. She finally returned to her sleeping spot and settled again, more because they were getting on her nerves than because she was already tired—although she was.

She waited to try again when she was alone in the cave. When she’d decided she’d gotten the hang of it, she used the crutch whenever she felt like getting up and moving around, but either it still got on their nerves or they just found it disturbing to watch her hobble around. Every time she got up, they would tense, as if expecting they would need to dive to catch her, and then when she’d walk from one side of the cave to the other and back again, they would watch her for several moments and then turn and stride from the cave.

She was relieved at first that they’d decided to leave her alone and let her work out her muscles to strengthen them, but she couldn’t help but notice that all of them were tense and on edge when they watched her and then would disappear for hours.

She didn’t have a mirror, which was probably a blessing, but she didn’t need one to know she must look awful, and unattractively awkward when she tried to walk. She hadn’t seen anything to groom with since the crash and knew her hair must look like a rat’s nest by now. She bathed the best she could, but she never felt clean because she didn’t have soap and nothing to dry off with afterward or to cover her nakedness except the same dirty blanket they’d recovered from the crash almost a week earlier and
that
was beginning to smell badly enough she would’ve considered burning it if it wasn’t all she had to cover up with.

They
still looked as fresh and well groomed as ever! Either they’d found fresh water and were taking advantage of it, or they were bathing in the sea and maybe finger combing their hair while it was wet, because it didn’t look as wild as hers felt.

As soon as the men returned and settled to putting together a meal, Bronte pushed herself up with the crutch and hobbled over to the fire. “I need a bath,” she announced baldly, addressing Gideon since she knew damned well it wasn’t going to do any good to ask either Gabriel or Jerico. They’d just go ask Gideon themselves and tell her no if that was his verdict.

“Gabriel, bring water for Bronte.”

Bronte frowned. “No! I mean a
real
bath, like getting in water, not slopping it over me!”

He gave her a look. “There is no bath.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then where have you been bathing?”

“In the sea.”

“Well, that’s where I want to bathe.”

“No.”

She would’ve stamped her foot if she’d had more than one good foot to stand on. “Why not?”

He looked her over. “With the sun on it, your hair will be a beacon for any trog within seeing distance. And the water is cold and rough. It will beat against you and you are not strong enough to stand against it. Until I am sure you are ready to travel, I will not risk you being seen.”

It was almost more irritating that he had a reason for denying her than it would’ve been if he’d been
un
reasonable about it. If he was just being a tyrant, she could’ve at least had the satisfaction of telling him he was an asshole. “It’s almost dark,” she pointed out instead. “Once the sun is down....”

“The water will feel
more
cold because there will be no sun to warm you and the sea will
still
be rough.”

She fumed. “I’d be alright if you carried me out. It’s only rough close to the shore.”

He gave her a look that was a mixture of amusement and irritation. “It will still be cold.”

She curled her lips in a half smile. “But you can warm me.”

The look he sent her that time warmed her on the spot. He dismissed the interest her comment had sparked almost at once, however, shaking his head. “You are a stubborn woman, Bronte.”

“But you’ll take me?” she asked, unable to hide her excitement.

“Yes. I will take you … And then I will beat you if you get sick from it!”

“Yes!” she exclaimed happily.

He looked amused. “You like the idea of me beating you?”

She gave him a look.

And then it dawned on her that he was teasing her!

She stared at him a long moment, feeling a smile tugging at her lips. “That depends on what part of my anatomy you were thinking about pounding on.”

He looked confused for a fraction of a second, then enlightenment dawned. His gaze slid over her with heated speculation. “You are not
that
well,” he said finally.

“Bathe first and then eat?” she asked hopefully.

He rolled his eyes, but glanced out the opening of the cave. The sun was just setting. He set what he was doing aside. “Gabriel, you and Jerico will stand guard on the beach,” he said decisively. Moving to Bronte and taking her crutch, he set it aside and then lifted her into his arms and carried her out.

“We should wash the blanket, too.”

“Tomorrow. You will have nothing dry to wrap in if we wash it now.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s starting to smell like something that’s been in an animal pen.”

“You will not mind that when you are cold.”

She would. On the other hand, he was right. Even with the almost constant wind off the sea it probably wouldn’t dry before she was ready to sleep and a stinky blanket was better than no blanket.

The water
was
cold. She sucked in an involuntary breath when he’d waded out far enough that it began to lap at her buttocks. He sent her a piercing look at the sound, but she resolutely clamped her teeth together. She was beginning to get uneasy about how deeply he was walking when he finally stopped and began to lower her slowly into the water.

It was sheer torture. At first it was hard to decide if she was colder beneath the water or above it. He held her against his body, though, once her feet had finally touched the soft, shifting sand beneath the water and after a few minutes she began to feel warmer. Pushing at him until he gave her a little more room, she began to rub her hands over her body, wishing she had soap so that she would feel cleaner. “I will be so glad when we get home,” she said absently.

She discovered when she looked up at him that Gideon was watching her with a strange look on his face. “What?”

He swallowed hard and looked away. “I look forward to reaching the city, as well.”

She studied his face searchingly. “What’s wrong?”

He looked uncomfortable. “We do not have a house,” he said finally. “Gabriel, Jerico, and I have always stayed in the barracks when we are here. There seemed no reason to have more. We will find a house once we return, though, or built to suit ourselves.”