A Secret Birthright - By Olivia Gates Page 0,5

head. He took his hand away, gestured for her to sit down, command and courtesy made flesh and bone.

She almost fell onto the couch, shot him a wary glance as soon as she’d sought its far end. “Thank you.”

He came to tower over her. “Nothing to thank me for.”

“Just for saving me from being rushed to the E.R., probably with severe facial fractures, or worse.”

His spectacular eyebrows snapped together as if in pain, the smoldering coals he had for eyes turning almost black. “Tell me why you fainted.”

She huffed. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have.”

His eyes drilled into hers, clearly unsatisfied with her answer. “You’re not alarmed that you did faint, at least you’re not surprised. So you have a very good idea why. Tell me.”

“It was probably agitation.”

His painstakingly sculpted lips twisted. “You might be a renowned pharmaceutical researcher, Ms. McNeal, but I’m the doctor among us and the one qualified to pass medical opinions. Agitation makes you more alert, not prone to collapse.”

He wouldn’t budge, would he? She had to give him something to satisfy his investigative appetite so she could move on to the one subject that mattered. “It—it was probably the long wait.”

He still shook his head. “Eight hours of waiting, though long, wouldn’t cause you to be so exhausted you’d faint. Not without an underlying cause.”

“I’ve been here since 4:00 a.m…” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. And that was before she added, “yesterday.”

His incredulity shot higher, his frown grew darker. “You’ve been sitting down there for thirty-six hours?”

He suddenly came down beside her, with a movement that should have been impossible for someone of his height, his thigh whisper-touching hers as those long, powerful fingers, his virtuoso surgeon’s tools, wrapped around her wrist to take her pulse. Her heartbeats piled up in her heart before drenching her arteries in a torrent.

He raised probing eyes to her. “Have you slept or even eaten during that time?” She didn’t remember. She started to nod and he overrode her evasion. “It’s clear you did neither. You haven’t been doing either properly for a long time. You’re tachycardic as if you’ve been running a mile.” Was he even wondering why, with him so near? “You must be hypoglycemic, and your weak pulse indicates your blood pressure is barely adequate to keep you conscious. I wouldn’t even need any of those signs to guide me about your condition. You look—depleted.”

From meeting her haggard face in the mirror, she knew she made a good simulation of the undead. But having him corroborate her opinion twisted mortification inside her.

Which was the height of stupidity. What did it matter if he thought she looked like hell? What mattered was that she fixed her mistake, got on with her all-important purpose.

“I was too anxious to sleep or eat, but it’s not a big deal. What I said to you is, though. I’m sorry for…for my outbursts.”

Something flared in his eyes, making her skin where he still held her hand feel as if it would burst into flame. “Don’t be. Not if I’ve done anything to deserve this…antipathy. And I’m extremely curious, to put it mildly, to find out what that was. Do you think I left you waiting this long out of malice? You believe I enjoy making people beg for my time, offer it only after they’ve broken down, only to allow them inadequate minutes before walking away?”

“No— I—I mean…no…your reputation says the very opposite.”

“But your personal experience says my reputation might be so much manufactured hype.”

Her throat tightened with a renewed surge of misery. “It’s just you…you announced you’d be available to be approached, but I was told the opposite, and I no longer knew what to believe.”

She felt him stiffen, the fire in his eyes doused in something…bleak. She’d somehow offended him with her attempts at apology and explanation more than she had with her insults.

But even if she deserved that he walked away from her, she couldn’t afford to let him. She had to beg him to hear her out.

“Please, forget everything I said and let me start over. Just give me those ten minutes all over again. If afterward you think you’re not interested in hearing more, walk away.”

Fareed crashed down to earth.

He’d forgotten. As she’d lambasted him, as he’d lost himself in the memory of his one exposure to her, in his delight in finding her miraculously here, then in his anxiety when she’d collapsed, he’d totally forgotten.

Why he’d walked away from her that first time.

As