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Lachlann glanced at Alistair, concern marring his features. “We have to take her to a hospital.”

“No.” There was deep concern in Alistair’s eyes. His voice was firm, though. “Only if it’s strictly necessary. She hates hospitals. Leonard, call Tavish Uilleam. Inform him we’re coming back and we need medical help. I’ll ride with her on my lap.”

From far away, Sophia could hear voices and feel her body being handled and although she tried, she couldn’t reach them.

She was floating in a dark space where flaming pain coursed through her body and a freezing ache prickled her heart.

8.29 p.m.

Alistair strode into his bedroom, with an unconscious Sophia in his arms, Tavish hovering over his shoulder.

“Let me help,” Alice volunteered.

“Okay. Don’t lay her down yet. Alice, take off her shirt, please. I need to suture her wounds as quickly as possible.”

What? “There’s no need to take off her shirt, Alice,” Alistair scolded at his sister. “You can cut around the wound.”

Tavish grunted. “Alistair Connor, her clothes are wet and dirty. I need her clean to treat her wounds. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll have to leave.”

Alistair’s green gaze blazed flames at his brother. “I’m not going anywhere!”

Their stares clashed.

“Stop interfering. She’s in pain and you’re being an ass.” Tavish sighed. “Alistair Connor. I’m a doctor. I do not lust over unconscious, sick women however beautiful or hot they may be. And, fuck, she’s your girlfriend.”

Tavish Uilleam is right. You’re being an idiot, Alistair Connor. Alistair slowly nodded, “I’m sorry.”

Tavish barely acknowledged the apology, looking away from Sophia as Alice took her shirt off. “Does she have any allergies?”

“I don’t know!” Alistair nearly shouted, exasperated with his impotency.

“You’re not helping.” Tavish stared at his brother, irritated too.

Alistair raked a hand in his hair. “I don’t know. This is her scarred arm, though.”

Tavish turned and saw the white jagged scars. “Fucking hell! That must have hurt.” He approached the still sleeping Sophia, putting on gloves. “I called a friend of mine who is a psychiatrist. She has a country house near here, about one and a half hour away.” He prepared the medical supplies he would need beside him on the bedside table. “I’m worried. She shouldn’t sleep after a head injury like this. Have you seen a suture before, Alistair Connor?” Tavish studied him, seriously. “Can you stomach it?”

“I’m not leaving her,” he affirmed. He frowned as he saw what Tavish had in his first aid kit. “Morphine?! Why do you have morphine, Tavish Uilleam?”

“Are you going to question each and every step?” He didn’t raise his eyes from what he was doing. He quickly assessed Sophia and looked up at Alistair. “We have to take her to a hospital.”

“No. The wounds on her head and shoulder are minor. You can handle it. If she doesn’t regain cons-”

“Alistair Connor, she’s not a child, neither are you. She fainted, hit her head and is sleeping.”

Tavish crossed his brawny arms and fixed Alistair with a stern stare. “Even if she regains consciousness, I’m taking her to get an X-ray and MRI tomorrow morning. And that’s final.”

Alistair Connor, he is the doctor here. “All right, all right.”

Tavish uncrossed his arms and started to work.

The door opened after a soft knock and Gabriela entered the room.

Her eyes widened when she entered Alistair’s room. “Mama,” she cried, running to Sophia’s side. “Mama, wake up.”

Alice stepped in front of her and picking her up in her arms, hugged her, drawing the little girl’s face to her chest. “Don’t worry, dear. She just fell and is resting now.” She looked over Gabriela’s white blonde hair into Alistair’s eyes.

“Alistair.” Gabriela turned in Alice’s arms and said in whisper, “Kiss her.”

“I beg your pardon?” Alistair was flabbergasted at the suggestion.

“Kiss her, like in Sleeping Beauty.”

“Go on, kiss her. It can’t hurt,” Tavish coached, smiling.

“Please, Alistair. A kiss will break the spell,” Gabriela beamed, twinkles in her eyes.

Sophia felt a strangely familiar scent, vanilla mixed with oak and a warm masculine minted breath bathed her lips. A mouth pressed on hers and silky hair fell over her, tickling her face. Her fingers wandered up to touch it. Men shouldn’t have hair like that, only girls-

She broke the kiss and opened her eyes. “Alistair! Oh, God! Alistair Connor.”

Sophia pulled him down, burying her face in the hollow of his neck, as her eyes filled with tears, hugging his neck tightly.

He returned the embrace. “Gabriela is here,” he murmured for her ears only.

Instantly Sophia regained her composure, rubbing her tear stricken face on his sweater and shifting to look at her daughter.

Gabriela came closer.

“Oh, my love,” Sophia whispered, struggling to keep her emotions under control.

“You see, Mama, he broke the spell. He is your Prince Charming,” said the little girl, sitting down on the edge of the bed and bending down to kiss her mother.

She smiled at the little girl. “Yes, he is.”

“I knew it,” she beamed at the couple.

“Time to sleep, little angel,” Alice said, “I betAriadne is waiting for you.”

Sophia kissed the little girl again and plastered a smile on her face until Gabriela was out of the room with Alice, who kept looking back at her.

When the door closed behind them, Alistair gushed out, “Christ, Sophia, you scared us all.”

“What happened?” Tavish brought a chair close to the bed.

She looked at them. “The deer,” she bit her lip, “his eyes. When I looked into his eyes...” She shook her head and put a hand on her temple, feeling the bandage over the stitches.

“You hit your head, Beauty. Don’t make sharp movements.” Alistair kissed her forehead.

“I’m giving Frankenstein a run for his money.” Sophia attempted a joke, but broke down sobbing. “I remembered.”

She began to tremble.

At first, tiny quakes shuddered her body, but then she started to shake in earnest and Alistair’s chest tightened. He hugged her.

“They wanted me, not Gabriel. Me! I was too afraid to obey their orders. Gabriel gave himself up in my place.” Her voice came out broken by her crying, her lean body shaking with heartbroken sobs. What have I done? I killed him. If not for me, he would still be alive.

“Hush, Beauty. Do you think Gabriel would have let them take you?” He buried his face in her hair as the despair in her voice sliced his heart. “Shhh. Don’t cry.”

“I killed him, Alistair. I don’t deserve to be alive.”

Tavish gasped shocked, “Sophia, you don’t know what you are saying.”

“You did not kill him. It was a tragic accident. A poorly handled kidnapping,” Alistair tried to soothe her.

“No,” she sobbed. “It was a series of events caused by my actions. I’m to blame. I didn’t surrender, I fought back. I let him go in my place, I let myself be drugged and I let his father control the negotiations. My fault. My fault.” Sophia was almost hysterical.

Alistair looked at Tavish, “Give her something.”

“No. I don’t want anything. It’s not fair on him. Not fair,” she said incoherently. “What I did... Wrong, so wrong.” Sophia’s adrenaline spiked. She fought Alistair’s embrace and got up from the other side of the bed. She swayed as the room spun around her.