The Prospect: The Malloy Family, Book 10 by Beth Williamson Page A

and embarrassed. Declan reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out coins, depositing them in Mr. Drummond’s outstretched palm.
    “I’ll pass this on to the management of the fort. I hope you’re feeling better, Mrs. Callahan. Your face has color.” He waited, as though he expected an answer.
    “I feel clearheaded, but I can’t quite determine the state of my health.” She did, in fact, feel awake for the first time in a long time.
    “If you’d like me to examine you, you only need ask.” Although his offer would appear kind to most, she did not know this man nor did she feel the need to make his acquaintance.
    “Thank you, but no.” She refused as politely as she could. Her mother, after all, had impressed upon all her daughters how important manners were.
    “Your choice. I will stop by in a few days to check on you.” He smiled, a chilling baring of teeth. “Until I decide there ain’t no more typhoid in you or the big man here.”
    “I’m not sick. I haven’t gotten sick and I won’t get sick.” Declan scowled. “I stopped wearing mask and gloves two weeks ago.”
    Jo couldn’t suppress her shock. He hadn’t worn protection for two weeks? She’d noted he wasn’t wearing protection earlier. Also, he’d been the first one to touch her when she’d gotten sick and he’d carried her through the fort. That much she remembered. It was a hazy memory, but she knew it was real.
    “As long as you’re in my good graces, I will lift the quarantine. Keep paying what’s owed and it will happen.” Drummond inclined his head toward her, then turned and left the cabin.
    The air hung heavy around them. She shook with exhaustion and resisted the urge to climb into the bed. Answers were more important than sleep.
    “I would appreciate it, Mr. Callahan, if you could explain what happened over the last three weeks.” She kept control of her anger, but it simmered beneath the surface. Declan always incited her, in more ways than one, like nobody else had done.
    He blew out a breath and sat down heavily in the chair. “You have been in another land, lass. I did what I had to do to protect you.”
    She hugged herself, realizing her stomach no longer hurt, although she was definitely weakened. “I’m feeling better and I am here in this land now, wherever this is.”
    He looked at her. “You do look more awake.” When he leaned over, she didn’t pull away, surprising herself. He touched her forehead and neck, then smiled. Her heart did a funny little skip at the sight of that smile without the beard to disguise it.
    Lord in heaven, the man was devastating.
    “Your fever’s broken.”
    It took a few seconds for his words to sink in. “My fever?”
    “Your forehead is cool to the touch, lass. You’ve beaten it.” He took her face and kissed her hard.
    Jo was stunned, rendered silent by the fact she’d finally kissed the man she had been wanting to kiss. It was everything she’d expected it to be and more. His lips were warm and soft and they made her entire mouth tingle.
    He leaned back, and his face flushed. “I didn’t mean to do that.”
    “It’s okay.” She wasn’t hurt by his regret. Jo was unattractive, stank and was no prize. It wouldn’t surprise her if he didn’t repeat the kiss. But she had the memory to hold onto. “I, uh, did not find the experience unpleasant.”
    The surprise on his face was almost comical. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. She hadn’t noticed he had a scar bisecting his bottom lip before. It was faded but noticeable this close. She wondered what it would feel like to run her tongue down that mark.
    Jo felt feverish again.
    “I know I owe you an explanation, lass. It’s probably better if we eat some dinner first. You’ve barely eaten enough for a wee bird to survive.” He got to his feet and went to the tiny black stove in the corner with a single pot on top. “We’ve naught but beans and soup, but it’s hearty and filling.”
    As he