Page 8 of Almost a Countess

Dora grunted as the laces tightened.“I’m not quite sure.” That much was true, at least. She didn’t knowhis name, and anything else she did happen to know would be kept toherself for now. “Once he regains consciousness, I mean to findout.”

“I don’t think it’s wiseto be bringing a stranger here, miss. Not when there’s a lady andother defenseless women to be thought of.” The maid had finishedher lacing and commenced pulling the stockings over Dora’s legs.“Knocked out as he is, there’s not much danger until he gets hisstrength back, but you never know with gentlemen, miss. Even thebest sort can be a handful of trouble.”

He’d been trouble enough already, butshe needn’t share that tidbit with Larkin either. “Did you fetchthe medicine chest to my father’s room?”

“Yes, miss. Bandages andwarm water too. Now this, please.” The maid coaxed the sleeves ofthe bodice onto Dora’s outstretched arms.

“Good.” Dora fretted to begone as the maid finished tying her waist strings, impatient to beoff to the sickroom. She wasn’t sure at all why she felt such anurge to attend the man. He likely had not woken yet. Still,something in the back of her mind argued that if he woke up alone,he might bolt before she got the chance to tend him. Foolish tothink he could move with his injured ankle, but the urgency to goto him would not be denied. “Are you done yet?”

“Just this moment, miss.”Larkin stepped back, clutching a filmy white fichu. “Shall I putthis on you as well?”

Shaking her head, Dora started for thedoor. She must get going. “No need. I’m fine withoutit.”

“Your shoes, miss!” Larkinscurried forward to set a pair of black mules in front ofDora.

“Thank you, Larkin.”Sighing, Dora stepped into the shoes then dashed out the door. Whatelse would come along to delay her? Almost trotting down thecorridor, Dora kept her hands on her skirts to keep them from beingsnagged. She couldn’t afford another delay. Perhaps the urgencythat niggled at her lay in her fear for the man’s welfare. Hiswounds were too reminiscent of her Judith’s for comfort. He neededtending if he was to survive. Which he surely wouldn’t receive ifshe turned him over to the authorities. The harsh set of Mrs.Jameson’s face when she’d said the soldiers were cruel to theirprisoners rose before her eyes. She’d not have his death on herconscience, no matter what.

That settled in her mind, Dora hurrieddown the corridor toward the viscount’s apartments, her heartsuddenly in her throat. Her generosity toward the stranger couldturn out very badly indeed, for both her and the people under hercare, if she’d misjudged the man. Still, she recalled the concernin his eyes when he offered to let her go alone and her resolvestiffened. Deep down, she knew she’d made the rightdecision.

When she reached the door, she pausedto catch her breath, steady her nerves, and marshal her strength.With determination, she grasped the latch, pushed it down, and thedoor swung open. Head held high, Dora entered.

Chapter 4

With a fluttery feeling that almostmade him ill, Finn struggled toward consciousness. A stabbing achein his head made him wince. The pain was reminiscent of histwenty-first birthday when his uncle had plied him with whiskyuntil the wee hours of the morning. Hopefully, this ache wouldn’tmake him as violently ill as he’d been then.

Cautiously, Finn opened his eyes toslits—no need to give the inhabitants notice that he was awake. Buta quick look told him the room was empty. Opening his eyes wider,he took in the massive mahogany bed with its dark burgundy and goldtrappings, the grand fireplace where flames licked the logs, thecasement window with drapes open allowing the bright afternoonsunshine into the chamber. All in all, a well-appointed room, if alittle grandiose for his own tastes. Still, wherever he’d ended up,the owner had spared no expense with his creature comforts. Sowhere the devil was he? And who was the woman who’d found him andbrought him here?

He shifted in the bed, and a sickeningpain shot up his leg from his ankle. “Jesus!”

Panting against the ache, he slowlyshifted again and managed to sit up without further agony. Movingslowly, he peeled the covers off his legs, dreading what he mightfind. But his legs both looked normal, no broken bones in evidence,although his left ankle seemed swollen and a little bruised. Still,it could have been much worse.

His boots had been removed, of course,and he glanced at the floor, but they weren’t in evidence. Neitherwere his clothes. Worse luck. Currently, he was clad in anold-fashioned chemise, good quality linen that had been wornseldom, with lace at collar and cuffs. Gently, he ran his hand downhis leg to his ankle, needing to confirm his initial impression.The swelling was slight, which meant a sprain. Unfortunately, he’daggravated the initial injury by walking on it God knew how far. Itwould hurt like hell for a week or more, making further escapedifficult, if not impossible, although, apparently, he could stillsit a horse. He distinctly remembered leaping onto the blondwoman’s horse, but not much else. Such a limitation could end upbeing deadly for him.

Finn pulled the coverlet back over hislegs, perusing the room once more. A very masculine room, unlikelyto belong to the woman who’d rescued him. Her image appeared in hismind, the bright blond hair, porcelain pale skin, lovely red lipsmaking him sigh and grin. A spirited woman as well as beautiful.Was she perhaps the mistress of the house? Its eldest daughter? Hehoped the latter, although he couldn’t entertain thoughts ofanything but escape at this point if he wanted to live. Thesoldiers were scouring the countryside for him. He must focus onthem and how to elude them at all costs.

The door latch clattered. Finn dovedown in the bed, snapping his eyes shut and sucking in his breathat the pain the movement caused. Biting his lip, he opened his eyesto slits once more, determined to take the measure of the person,be they maid or mistress.

The tall golden-haired woman who’drescued him stepped into the room, so soft-footed she might’ve beena cat. She pulled the door closed with a quiet click and turned tosurvey the room. She’d changed the sodden pale blue riding habitfor a dark red gown that suited her better. This one made her skinfairly glow.

She went directly to the small chestresting on a chair at the foot of the bed, opened it, and rootedaround in it. At last, she withdrew something and turned to apitcher and ewer sitting on a nearby table. She poured water intothe bowl and dropped something into it. A competent, no-nonsensewoman, to be sure. She’d struck him as less so out by the burn, butthe situation had been so out of the ordinary he didn’t blame herfor being a bit scatterbrained. All that mattered, then and now,was her willingness to help him.

Carrying the bowl of water, sheapproached the head of the bed, and Finn closed his eyes all theway, making himself relax in order to feign sleep. But at the touchof a warm, wet cloth to the cut on his forehead, he couldn’t helpflinching. The wound was new enough it still smarted a bit. Had hismovement given him away? Perhaps not. Certainly, a man might wincein his sleep if something pained him. At any rate, he’d continue topretend to sleep and hope to discover more about thelass.

She quickly replaced the cooling clothwith another heated one, and Finn had to repress a groan ofpleasure. The heat soaking into his aching head felt good indeed.The woman’s touch was light as she rubbed the cloth over his tenderskin. She patted it with a dry cloth then daubed the wound withsomething that felt sticky and smelled of sweetness and lavender.Honey, most likely. His own mother had used that for his cuts whenhe was a lad.

Lost in that memory, Finn almostopened his eyes in surprise as the woman lifted his head from thepillow to wind a bandage around his forehead. She covered the woundneatly and tucked the tail of the cloth in at the front then laidhim back on the pillow. Finn breathed a sigh of relief, to have herhands no longer on him. That innocent connection had begun to stokea not-so-innocent response below. Hopefully, now she’d leave him torest and devise a plan to allow him to continue on hisway.

To his surprise, however, the womandrew the cover off his body, and Finn’s attention snapped back toher—and more importantly, to his groin, where his interest in thelass had become rather apparent. What the devil was the womanplanning to do with his manly parts so exposed? Just the thought ofher looking at him, even clothed in the long chemise, made thesituation with his member dire. If she touched him again, he fearedhis desires would be more than evident.

Her firm hands seized his ankle, andit was all Finn could do to keep from crying out. The pain did takecare of one problem as neatly as a dash of cold water would have.The woman continued to feel his swollen ankle with deft hands,causing a fierce pain to shoot up the affected leg. He shifted andbit back a moan. If she intended to treat the sprain, he might haveto abandon his ruse. Finn wasn’t one for complaining about a bit ofdiscomfort, but he’d had sprains before and tending them hurt worsethan if the foot had been broken.

Gritting his teeth, Finn steeledhimself for the worst. But the woman surprised him again by rubbingsome sort of salve lightly on the swollen, aching flesh. Thank Godfor the lass’s light touch. No sooner was the prayer given than thewoman lifted the leg and held it immobile under her arm. Finnburned to open his eyes and discover what the devil the woman wasdoing. A soft piece of cloth was passed around his ankle and amoment later, a garbled groan was forced from his lips as the clothtightened unmercifully around his aching flesh. The woman continuedto bind the ankle tightly, sending wave after excruciating wave ofpain throughout Finn’s leg. He bore it as best he could until helost the tenuous battle for consciousness and descended intodarkness once more.

****

Coughing at the sharp stink thatassailed his nose, Finn sat bolt upright in bed, instinctivelyshoving the vial of smelling salts away from him. He glared at thewoman hovering right in front of him and snorted to get the foulreek out of his nostrils. “I’ll thank ye never t’ dae that again,woman.”

“If you’d stop fainting onme, I’d be happy to oblige.” She grinned at him, a wicked twinklein her eyes, and recapped the vial. “Larkin just brought up a trayfor you, and I thought hot food would be preferable tocold.”