Vidal shook his head. She looked so pretty and fragile lying there, but she wasn’t weak. As he looked into her eyes, he could see that she would fight to live. This is not a woman who will linger in her bed until she fades away. Rosalind lives fiercely, and that strength will see her through. She will do whatever it takes to get well. “I want to kiss you, querida. May I?”
“Foolish man,” she replied, her eyes twinkling. “You’re my husband. You can kiss me any time you want.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he insisted.
She reached out to him. “The cut is on my belly, not my lips.”
“Rosalinda…”
“Vidal,” she interrupted, “if you don’t hurry up and kiss me, I’m going to get up out of this bed and do it myself.”
He leaned down and touched his lips to hers.
“Pardon, Señor, Señora.” The doctor
