Stella's POV
The impact sent the chair rolling backward toward the marble stairs. My heart stopped as I saw Adam's eyes widen fractionally – the first real expression of surprise I'd ever seen on his face.
In that split second, all I could think was: Not him. Please, not him.
I kicked off my heels and ran. The gravel bit into my bare feet, but I didn't care. All that mattered was catching that chair before it hit the stone steps.
"Almost there..." I stretched out my hands, fingertips just brushing the handles. One more step...
Got it! But physics wasn't on my side. The momentum sent me tumbling, my knees scraping hard against the ground. Pain shot through me, but the only thought in my head was—
"Are you okay? Are you—" I pushed myself up, ignoring the stinging in my knees as I checked Adam for injuries.
His eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. "Are you crazy?"
"Excuse me?" I blinked, thrown by his reaction. "I just saved you from—"
Before I could finish, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, pulling me up with surprising strength. I stumbled forward, catching myself against his chest. For a moment, neither of us moved. I could feel his heart racing under my palm.
"Your knees are bleeding," he said flatly, though his grip on my wrist remained gentle.
"It's nothing," I started to pull back, but his other hand caught my waist, holding me in place.
"Oh my goodness!" A shrill voice broke the moment. "You naughty boy! You could have hurt your Uncle Adam!"
The temperature seemed to drop as Thomas and his wife hurried over, dragging their little son.
"No harm done," Thomas waved dismissively. "Adam's fine, aren't you?"
I felt Adam go perfectly still beneath my hands. That dangerous stillness that always preceded a storm.
"Mrs. Lancaster," he said quietly, ignoring the others. "Please take a seat."
"What? I don't need to—"
"Sit." The command in his voice brooked no argument.
I found myself being settled into his wheelchair before I could protest further. His hands lingered on my waist a fraction longer than necessary.
What happened next was both terrifying and oddly satisfying.
Adam, supposedly disabled, executed a perfect turn of the wheelchair. "Oh dear," his voice dripped false concern as the chair surged forward. "It seems to be malfunctioning."
The wheelchair clipped Thomas's wife's legs, sending her sprawling into a rosebush. Thomas, rushing to help her, somehow ended up with a bloody nose from the wheelchair's back support.
"My sincerest apologies," Adam's smile could have frozen hell. "These mechanical devices can be so unpredictable. Much like children on scooters."
Everyone suddenly remembered urgent appointments elsewhere.
\---
"This is ridiculous." I squirmed as Adam's fingers traced over my bandaged knee. "It's just a scrape!"
"Several deep lacerations," the family doctor corrected. "You'll need to stay off these feet."
"See?" I shot Adam a look. "Just rest. I don't need—"
"Use my wheel." Adam's tone meant business. Then his eyes locked onto mine, and something in them made my breath catch. "Unless you'd prefer I carry you everywhere?"
My face heated at the thought. "I can walk—"
The words died as he simply scooped me up, one arm under my knees and the other around my back. I grabbed his shoulders, startled by both the sudden movement and how... right it felt.
"Mr. Lancaster!" My voice came out embarrassingly squeaky. "What are you—"
"Since you insist on being difficult." He settled me into what had to be the fanciest wheelchair ever made.
His hands lingered longer than necessary, sending little sparks of electricity everywhere he touched. "Stay put."
"Or what?" The challenge slipped out before I could stop it.
His eyes darkened as he leaned close – way too close. "Test me and find out."
My heart did a weird flip. "Is that supposed to be threatening? Because you're not as scary as you think."
"No?" His thumb traced my jawline, making it really hard to remember why I was arguing. "Then why is your pulse racing?"
"Because—" I swallowed hard as his other hand found my waist. "Because you're in my personal space!"
His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Your personal space?" His lips brushed my ear. "Mrs. Lancaster, I don't think you understand how this works. You're mine now. Everything about you is my personal space."
Before I could come up with a response that wasn't just incoherent sputtering, he straightened up.
"Taylor." His voice carried that dangerous edge again. "Mrs. Lancaster needs a reminder about following medical advice."
Taylor's lips twitched. "Yes, sir."
"I don't need a wheelchair!" But my protests fell on deaf ears as Adam took control, steering me through the manor.
Joseph appeared, concern breaking through his professional mask. "Mrs. Lancaster! Are you alright?"
"She needs rest." Adam's hands tightened on the wheelchair handles. "And that bone broth you make."
"Of course, sir." Joseph nodded. "Right away."
"And Joseph?" Adam's voice dropped low. "Make sure she actually stays in bed these days."
I waited until Adam left before turning to Joseph. "Come on, this is crazy! It's just a scraped knee!"
"The doctor's orders were quite clear." Joseph's eyes held genuine worry.
I just recalled seeing the sparkling drink with lemon slices on the island before entering the room. "Could you please bring me that jug of drink to my room, please?"I perked up.” Maybe I can sleep well after drinking it.”
Something like amusement crossed Joseph's face. "Of course, Mrs. Lancaster."
As he left, I couldn't help touching my jaw where Adam's fingers had been. The memory of his touch still burned, along with that look in his eyes when he'd seen me hurt...
But my treacherous mind kept replaying how quickly he'd moved to defend me, how gentle his hands had been checking my injuries, the way his heart had raced when he held me...
"Your drink, Mrs. Lancaster."
I grabbed the glass maybe a bit too eagerly, trying to focus on the drink .