The corridor had never seemed so long and narrow to him.
Brand paced the length of the passage in its entirety. His boots struck the polished floor sharply as his eyes darted from one wall sconce to another. Twice he strode to the far end and back again before he became aware that Gerard, who stood in silence against the opposite wall, had begun to watch him with wary eyes. A storm raged in him.
He was worried, and he hated that he was worried.
He hated her for making him worry.
He hated the physician for the delay.
What was taking him so long? How long did it take to examine her and determine the cause of her collapse? He espied her corner. Another knot tightened in his chest at the closed door.
She had not been lying. She had not lied in that, at least. But while she had indeed been ill, he had accused her of deceit.
He cursed inwardly.
