The Borrowed Bride by Susan Wiggs Page B

not will himself to slip away again. A horde of thoughts and regrets battered at him. He thought about asking for more of the painkiller that had gotten him this far, but that would only postpone the inevitable.
    He had to open his eyes and face what had happened to him.
    Correction, he told himself. What he had done to himself.
    Minor lacerations, the doctor had reported. A few cracked ribs. It was a good thing he had been wearing a high-quality helmet. Too bad none of his safety precautions could protect his spine.
    Possible nerve damage, the doctor had said with a look on his face that chilled Dan to the center of his chest. The physician claimed he could not render a prognosis until Dan was transported to a major hospital for extensive neurological evaluation.
    But the doctor’s expression, so studiously bland and gentle, said, Sorry, buddy. You’ll never walk again.
    Dan insisted on two things. That the doctor keep his condition strictly confidential. And that Dan receivethe largest legal dose of painkiller the doctor could, in good conscience, administer.
    The physician agreed to both requests without hesitation.
    But now, Dan was emerging from his narcotic fog, and he had some decisions to make. First, the lodge. The tribal council would help him. Maybe the winery would keep things afloat until the guests started coming. And hell, if it came to that, Dan still had his voice. He could record something new, though he’d look pretty ridiculous singing flat on his back.
    And then there was Isabel… The pain lanced like lightning through him. He barely had time to compose his thoughts before she stepped into the room.
    He hated himself for putting that expression on her face—that look of terror and pity and shattering grief. Her skin was pale and looked tautly drawn across her cheekbones. Her hair was mussed as if she had passed her fingers through it repeatedly in agitation. Her narrow hands were held clasped in front of her.
    “Hi,” he said. “I just woke up.”
    She nodded and stood at the foot of the bed, her gaze moving slowly over the apparatus that held him immobile. He was reminded of a time when their roles had been reversed, when she had been the patient. That was the beginning of the end for them the first time. Now, once again, their parting would take place in a hospital room.
    “I would’ve waited all night if I had to,” she said. “Would’ve waited a lifetime.”
    Dan let out a slow sigh. The bitter irony of it all ate at him. He had brought her here to make her see thatthey still loved each other, that they could make it together. And she had realized it, but the revelation had come too late. He knew she would stick by him through whatever ordeals he had to face in the coming months.
    But he would never let her shackle herself to him now.
    “I guess I deserve an ‘I told you so,’” he said.
    “I’d never say that.” She moistened her lips.
    The thought of never again tasting that beautiful, kissable mouth nearly drew a roar of anguish from him.
    “How are you?” she asked, as he knew she would. “No one will tell me a thing. Exactly what’s hurt? What’s broken?”
    “Nothing that can’t be fixed,” he lied. “Next year at this time, I’ll be back in the race.”
    “You can’t mean you’d do it again.”
    “Sure I would.” He troweled on more lies, saying anything— anything —to drive her away, to save her from loving a broken man. “I never should have come to see you again. You were right all along. I can’t change. I’ll always be wild and reckless. I’d drive you crazy.”
    She looked stricken. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “You’re making me crazy now. I came to tell you I’d stay with you—”
    “It’s no good. It didn’t work for us the first time, and it won’t work now. It was stupid of me to think it would.”
    “But—”
    “Go back home, Isabel,” he said in a hard-edged voice. “There’s nothing for you here.”
    She stepped back from the