Page 61 of The Chef and the Countess

Liam raced outside and climbed the wrought iron stairs, holding Celia close as if she were precious cargo.

And she was most precious, indeed.

* * *

When the cold air hit Celia’s lungs, she jumped awake and exhaled sharply. “Holy crow. Did I faint?”

“Aye, love. You did.”

Snowflakes rested on her eyelashes as she tightened her grip around Liam’s neck. It took a moment for her to realize she was being carried. They entered the upstairs area, and Liam kicked the door shut with his boot.

“I like it when you call me that,” Celia sighed as Liam hurried past her room. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“To my rooms. You need looking after.”

“It’s only a scratch.”

“So you said. We’ll let Drew determine that. He’s on his way.”

Celia felt lightheaded, as if in a dream-like state. “It’s so far for him to come.”

Liam opened the door to his flat, which wasn’t easy since he still held her in his arms. “I could take you to a hospital but the only one in the vicinity is a workhouse infirmary, and I am not taking you there. Besides, I trust Drew far more to see to your care than some stranger.” He laid her gently on a bed. “Where are the buttons on your skirt?”

Celia closed her eyes. All she wanted to do was sleep.

“Celia! Stay awake!”

“I am awake,” she murmured. “How can I not be with your yelling? You must stop that, you know.” Her eyes flew open at the sound of fabric tearing. “What are you doing?”

“That miserable cur cut your skirt. I’m just removing it.”

How mortifying. Her undergarments and petticoats were not in the best condition. Liam pulled them below her waist.

“Jaysus,” Liam whistled.

“Is it bad?” she asked worriedly.

“It doesn’t look deep, but it’s a long gash.” Liam opened his dresser drawers as if frantically searching for something. “Your multiple layers protected you from a worse injury.” Then he grabbed a white shirt and bundled it up.

“Oh, don’t use one of your shirts!” Celia cried.

He placed it firmly against her wound, and she winced in pain. “I have dozens. Why didn’t you go to your room as I said? Do you know what it did to me to see you being held by that bloody barbarian?”

Celia touched his arm gently. “Do not be cross.”

“I’m not,” Liam replied in a calmer voice. “I’m frightened more than anything.”

“After gathering weapons, I was about to go to my room as you suggested, but—I could not leave you. You were in danger. I am sorry, and I know it was against your expressed wishes. I do have a mind of my own.”

“I know you do. And a fine mind it is.” Liam pulled back the shirt and looked at the wound, his thick brows furrowed with worry.

“Is it bad?”

“I’ve seen worse.”

“You have witnessed someone being injured by a knife?”

“Aye. Other lads. And myself.” Liam stood, removed his wool coat, and unbuttoned his shirt partway, pulling it aside to show a scar on his left shoulder.