Page 20 of Broken

“Of course. Mrs. Osprey, place the tray next to me, and see to it,” Giles directed then shifted closer. “Lilly, have a bite of this.”

“What is it?” Even her own words hurt.

“Just bread.”

Something soft brushed Lilly’s lips and she opened her mouth to take a small bite. Could the day get any worse? Now he was feeding her. She managed three bites before clamping her lips closed.

“You need to eat more than that, Lilly. It’s not enough to feed a sparrow,” Giles grumbled, and Lilly had to wonder why he should care so much. No one else ever did. She opened her eyes to find him regarding her somewhat quizzically, as if she was a puzzle to solve. “Try to eat more later, all right? I don’t want you wasting away.”

“I will try.”

“I have your word?”

Lilly frowned. What did it matter to him whether she ate or not? But he appeared to be waiting on her answer. “Yes, you have my word.”

That seemed to appease him; his shoulders relaxed, and he stood. “Good. I will check on you later, but Mrs. Osprey will stay and keep you company. Get some rest.”

It was good he was leaving. Her head had begun to throb in earnest now. But her tightening throat choked off her farewell as he disappeared from view. He was better off without her company.

He was perfect.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Milord, Mrs. Osprey believes Miss Winter has developed a slight fever,” Dithers informed him after dinner. “She has some concerns and wishes for your opinion.”

Giles cursed. He had spent the day thinking Lilly’s health somewhat improved, but he should have known it was too good to be true. Of course, the other reason he had stayed away was that he did not trust himself in Lilly’s company. He had developed an annoying habit of touching her and he had no right to do that.

Yes, well all right, this morning he had attempted to kiss her brow, too.

To distract himself from temptation he had gone over his plans for the restoration of Cottingstone Manor. He’d hired laborers from the village and they would start tomorrow. Ten additional men would be about the house and grounds for the next two weeks—bringing order where chaos now reigned.

The little business he had brought with him from London was complete by late afternoon, and he sat alone in his study, glass of port in hand, doing what he usually did at the manor: recuperating.

The life he led in London, a life spent in the pursuit of pleasure, actually required a great deal of energy to maintain. There were places to go, women to chase, possessiveness to avoid. Yes, a very exhausting life.

Except that tonight he could not settle comfortably. His mind kept turning to the problem he housed upstairs. “You are certain she has a fever?”

“No, milord. I said that Mrs. Osprey thinks she has one. We do not always agree, but I have not tested her wisdom on the young miss. You told me not to annoy your housekeeper, and I am hesitant to place my hands on Miss Winter to check her diagnosis.”

“You could lose a hand that way,” Giles growled, but the shock of uttering such a territorial statement aloud rocked him.

“That is what I thought, milord. Hence my coming to you.” Dithers glanced around the chamber with the appearance of idle inspection, but his clenched jaw hinted he was trying very hard to keep his face blank of expression.

Giles held back another growl. Dithers’ amusement was the least of his problems. Lilly needed him and he wanted to assist her. After the things he’d done before her innocent eyes, he had a lot to make up for.

“I will be there directly.”

Dropping his drink to the desk, Giles stood, tugged down his waistcoat, adjusted his sleeves, and controlled his footsteps out of the study. It would not do to appear in too much of a hurry—even if his heart pounded in anticipation of seeing her.

Dithers had said that the fever was slight, but the man rushed ahead to open her bedchamber door as if she were bound for the afterlife at any moment.

The first things Giles noticed were that Atticus was not in the room, and the edges of the chamber were as dark as Hades. Giles could barely pick out Mrs. Osprey sitting in the chair by the bed, wringing her hands in obvious agitation.

His feet propelled him all the way to the edge of the bed without pause. May as well be controlled by strings and a master puppeteer, you idiot. He touched Lilly without conscious thought. Too hot. Her skin seemed tight with heat.

Giles did not know what to do. He had no knowledge of healing whatsoever.

Haunting gray eyes flickered open and struggled to focus on him. He shifted closer so she didn’t have to move her head to see him, but her eyes were dull, reflecting vast pain. “Lilly, where do you hurt?”