Page 27 of Distracting the Duke

“What I really want to do,” he replied, “is sprawl out on top of the covers to cool off. But I still have a few shreds of decency left, despite the urge to see if I can embarrass you into leaving.”

He immediately went into another coughing fit, then collapsed back onto his pillows. Would this suffering never end?

“Here.” Clara handed him a glass of water, which he sipped gratefully. So, she did have some compassion.

When he felt it safe to speak again, he said, “It’s quite clear your brother’s hide will remain intact for the next day or two. Can’t you be content with that, and leave me to my misery? We can speak again when I’m feeling better. Who knows, he may even have seen sense by then, and apologized.”

Clara pursed her lips. “Philip finds it hard to back down from a quarrel.”

“I’ve no quarrel with him.” Marcus felt about for a handkerchief and dabbed at his nose. “It was all a misunderstanding. When I threw myself at that door to rescue you, I’d no notion of finding you on the bed beneath me in your nightgown. Anyone rational would realize it was an accident.”

“You didn’t remove yourself quickly enough, I expect.”

“I wasn’t aware I was being timed.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Lord, my ribs ache from coughing. Will you fetch my embrocation, or shall I get it myself?”

Her eyes widened. “No, please remain where you are.”

She emptied her glass of wine as she went to fetch the ointment. Dutch courage. He was getting to her. Maybe she would go sooner than later.

“Sit back down,” he said, indicating the foot of the bed. “I don’t want to have to shout to you across the room.”

She sat.

He dipped his fingers into the pot and started rubbing the wintergreen ointment into his chest.

Her breast rose and fell rapidly, and when she spoke, her voice quivered. “Are you so lacking in pity that you’d deprive me of my brother, Sarah of her husband, and dear Eleanora of her guardian?”

He remained unmoved. “As I said, I’ve no intention of killing Weston. I’m accounted a very fine shot, and I mean only to wing him. However, it grieves me to discover it’s just his sorry hide you care about, and not mine.”

“Hmm?” She was staring at his massaging hand.

For a moment, he experienced an overwhelming urge to move it lower.

“Sir,” she said, interrupting his inappropriate thoughts. “I wish you’d stop doing that. It’s most distracting.”

With a grimace, he wiped his hand on the towel and set the pot aside. He was feeling very confused and feverish now. She really had to go.

“If I roll over, you could rub some into my back for me…” he suggested—strictly to speed her departure.

She straightened. “That would be highly improper.”

He regarded her. “Let me remind you, it was your decision to ride alone all the way from Lawton, your decision to burst into my bedchamber, and your decision to refuse to leave it. Don’t be a hypocrite, Clara.”

“I can’t go away until you promise not to fight my brother.”

There was a note of despair in her voice he didn’t like to hear. “Very well. I promise to think about not dueling with your brother. Or to find a way to dissuade him from his foolishness. But you must work on him, too.” He frowned and added, “And make absolutely certain no one else gets wind of this.”

“Oh, thank you! Can you please keep me informed?”

The pink sprang back into her cheeks again, and her dark eyes glittered. She really was exceedingly pretty. What a shame about the stubbornness of her character.

“I shall certainly write to you when I’m better,” he said. “Now you have my promise, but do I have yours?”

She hesitated. “What must I promise?”

“To leave me in peace to be ill in whatsoever manner I choose.” He captured her gaze with his. “And if I succeed in preventing the duel, make no mistake, you’ll be in my debt.”

A moment of thick silence ticked by before she said, “If you succeed, I’ll be much obliged to you…but I don’t know how you expect me to return the favor.”