Bliss waited in the long hallway while Dr. Chalmers examined Micah and changed the dressings that covered his eyes. Clad in a pair of shorts, a loose tee, and sandals, she looked more rested than she actually felt. She smiled when the retired physician pulled open the door and motioned her forward.
"We’re all done, Bliss. Your houseguest, I’m afraid, is a reluctant patient."
Bliss followed the white–haired surgeon into the suite. Her gaze went immediately to Micah. She noticed the muscle ticking in his unshaven jaw, as well as his white–knuckled fists. She also took in the gray T–shirt and shorts he wore, a spark of pleasure bursting to life inside her because she realized that he’d opted to explore the contents of his suitcase without help. The unique scent of soap made on the island by locals informed her that he’d showered. Small victories, she realized, but victories nonetheless.
His attire did nothing to conceal the brawny power of his muscular body, and his conservatively cut golden hair looked as though he’d shoved his fingers through it right after stepping out of the shower. He reminded her yet again of a weathered Viking adventurer. Her heartbeat accelerated, but she quickly put the brakes on her response to Micah and reminded herself to remain aloof.
"You’re a fortunate man, Micah," observed the doctor as he closed his medical bag.
"Why’s that?" Micah snapped.
Dr. Chalmers ignored his ill humor. "Our Bliss is an old hand with the visually impaired, and she’s our principal fund–raiser for the island’s residential school for the blind, which is named for her mother. She’s also beautiful, talented, and remarkably even–tempered."
"Yeah, Doc, she’s a regular saint! I’ll tell you a little secret about
our Bliss
. She’s heavily into torture and starvation."
Dr. Chalmers chuckled as he glanced at Bliss. She fought the flush staining her cheeks, and she shrugged helplessly. She accepted an affectionate hug and a thumbs–up gesture from the doctor before Chalmers collected his medical bag and paused beside Micah’s chair.
"I don’t expect a salute or a thank you, son, but I do expect the courtesy of a handshake."
Micah shot to his feet and extended his hand, ruddy color staining his cheeks. Doctor Chalmers accepted the handshake with his usual graciousness. Bliss knew he hadn’t deliberately tried to embarrass Micah. Rather, he’d reminded him that good manners were not the prerogative of the sighted alone.
"Bliss is an extraordinarily resourceful woman. Once you get past the self–pity you’re feeling, you’ll recognize how fortunate you are."
She watched Micah tense with resentment. She decided to intervene. "Dr. Chalmers is somewhat prejudiced, Micah. He’s my godfather."
"I also delivered you, young lady, so of course I’m prejudiced." Glancing at his patient before he strolled out of the room, he said, "I’ll see you both the day after tomorrow. If you need anything in the interim, Bliss knows how to reach me."
Once the doctor departed, Micah announced, "I’m hungry. I want a breakfast tray. Now."
She glanced at her watch. "Brunch will be served in the dining room in ten minutes."
"Forget it. I’ll eat in here."
She ignored his comment. "I’ll meet you in the foyer at the end of the hallway. Count your steps as you make your way down the hall and remember the number. You’ll have an easier time making your way around the mansion if you measure the rooms and hallways with your footsteps."
Micah moved toward her. Bliss didn’t budge. That he seemed to know her exact location, which meant he was paying close attention to the sound of her voice, displaced any uneasiness she might otherwise have felt for his safety. Her own well–being she already knew she could preserve.
"I will not be trained to perform like some God damned trick pony at the circus!"
She felt something snap deep inside of herself. "Damn it, stop snarling at me. I’m tired of it,
"We’re all done, Bliss. Your houseguest, I’m afraid, is a reluctant patient."
Bliss followed the white–haired surgeon into the suite. Her gaze went immediately to Micah. She noticed the muscle ticking in his unshaven jaw, as well as his white–knuckled fists. She also took in the gray T–shirt and shorts he wore, a spark of pleasure bursting to life inside her because she realized that he’d opted to explore the contents of his suitcase without help. The unique scent of soap made on the island by locals informed her that he’d showered. Small victories, she realized, but victories nonetheless.
His attire did nothing to conceal the brawny power of his muscular body, and his conservatively cut golden hair looked as though he’d shoved his fingers through it right after stepping out of the shower. He reminded her yet again of a weathered Viking adventurer. Her heartbeat accelerated, but she quickly put the brakes on her response to Micah and reminded herself to remain aloof.
"You’re a fortunate man, Micah," observed the doctor as he closed his medical bag.
"Why’s that?" Micah snapped.
Dr. Chalmers ignored his ill humor. "Our Bliss is an old hand with the visually impaired, and she’s our principal fund–raiser for the island’s residential school for the blind, which is named for her mother. She’s also beautiful, talented, and remarkably even–tempered."
"Yeah, Doc, she’s a regular saint! I’ll tell you a little secret about
our Bliss
. She’s heavily into torture and starvation."
Dr. Chalmers chuckled as he glanced at Bliss. She fought the flush staining her cheeks, and she shrugged helplessly. She accepted an affectionate hug and a thumbs–up gesture from the doctor before Chalmers collected his medical bag and paused beside Micah’s chair.
"I don’t expect a salute or a thank you, son, but I do expect the courtesy of a handshake."
Micah shot to his feet and extended his hand, ruddy color staining his cheeks. Doctor Chalmers accepted the handshake with his usual graciousness. Bliss knew he hadn’t deliberately tried to embarrass Micah. Rather, he’d reminded him that good manners were not the prerogative of the sighted alone.
"Bliss is an extraordinarily resourceful woman. Once you get past the self–pity you’re feeling, you’ll recognize how fortunate you are."
She watched Micah tense with resentment. She decided to intervene. "Dr. Chalmers is somewhat prejudiced, Micah. He’s my godfather."
"I also delivered you, young lady, so of course I’m prejudiced." Glancing at his patient before he strolled out of the room, he said, "I’ll see you both the day after tomorrow. If you need anything in the interim, Bliss knows how to reach me."
Once the doctor departed, Micah announced, "I’m hungry. I want a breakfast tray. Now."
She glanced at her watch. "Brunch will be served in the dining room in ten minutes."
"Forget it. I’ll eat in here."
She ignored his comment. "I’ll meet you in the foyer at the end of the hallway. Count your steps as you make your way down the hall and remember the number. You’ll have an easier time making your way around the mansion if you measure the rooms and hallways with your footsteps."
Micah moved toward her. Bliss didn’t budge. That he seemed to know her exact location, which meant he was paying close attention to the sound of her voice, displaced any uneasiness she might otherwise have felt for his safety. Her own well–being she already knew she could preserve.
"I will not be trained to perform like some God damned trick pony at the circus!"
She felt something snap deep inside of herself. "Damn it, stop snarling at me. I’m tired of it,
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