Word Count: 502
Rosa was right, as always. She was pretty. In a soft, kind of round sort of way. Colton imagined she’d have been the height of sexy two hundred years ago, when women wore enormous skirts and corsets. And lots of cleavage.
She finished quickly, obviously not traumatized either. Tuilin frowned a bit at her harsh answers when he asked what she would like to say to the men who had done this. Colton didn’t think she was out of line. And she was American. Americans were aggressive, impulsive. Which is why she’d saved his life.
And why he’d married her.
“Thank you, Mr. Savage.” Tuilin said, breaking into his thoughts.
Colton stood and shook his hand again, murmuring pleasantries.
She made a face as the door shut, sticking her tongue out. “Horrid man!” She exclaimed.
Colton shrugged. “Psychologist.”
She snorted, then winced, feeling her bandaged forehead.
Colton searched for a way to get her out of his office. She took matters into her own hands. She stood and gave him a weak smile. “Mr. Savage,” she began. He held in a flinch. “I know I said it before, but, thanks. I really appreciate you…sacrificing like this.”
“Least I could do.” He said falsely. This was going to blow up in his face any second.
“Really, you didn’t have to.” She gave him a better smile, much warmer. “Hopefully, this gets cleared up quickly.”
He grunted and stared determinedly at his computer screen. His stocks were already plummeting and the market in London had only been open for three minutes.
She left then and shut the door with snap.
He swore at himself and put his head down on the desk.
He was mad, to have done this. The words had just blurted out of him.
“You have to marry me.” He’d said, low and urgent.
“What?” she squawked, blood dripping down her face as a paramedic tried to staunch her wound.
“You have to marry me.” He insisted. “Now.”
“Please, listen to me.”
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “Get away from me!”
He’d glanced over his shoulder, at the police and soldiers milling around the crater in the street. “At the hospital. I’ll explain on the way.”
She gaped at him. He climbed into the ambulance after her, bracing himself as the wailing vehicle lurched away from the stadium.
He wasn’t sure what he’d said as they raced to the overburdened building. She’d listened white faced as he hissed to her, praying she’d understand. Finally she nodded. It was easy to find a chaplain circling the emergency room, comforting the injured and dying.
He’d hardly batted an eye, pulling out his book and doing it right then. He even had the license for them to sign.
Colton pushed back from his desk. Opening a drawer, he pulled out the stained document. It was smudged with dirt from his hands, blood from Renee’s. Still legal, though. He was glad he’d done it then. Renee’s trouble had already started.