She worked out a few knots with careful strokes of her brush, then set the brush aside and stretched out on the bed. Suddenly feeling exhausted and quite deflated, she saw no harm in closing her eyes for a minute or two in order to ease the throbbing in her head.
Her elbow had stopped bleeding, too. She did not need to keep a handkerchief pressed against it.
Perhaps her loss of blood was contributing to her headache. The best cure for that was simply to rest.
She must have fallen asleep atop the covers much longer than a few minutes, for the next thing she knew, someone was lightly shaking her awake.
She ignored the first few attempts, but this person was persistent. She grumbled as she opened her eyes, surprised to find the Duke of Bromleigh in her bedchamber. “Your Grace?”
“Cherish,” he said in that deep, rumbling voice of his that shot tingles through her, “I need to cleanse that nasty scrape at your elbow. I’m sorry I woke you. Fiona’s housekeeper was in here earlier to tend to you, but you were so lost in sleep, she was reluctant to disturb you. I felt treating your injury was too important to delay. Let me have a look at your elbow first, for it was bleeding and there’s dirt ground into it.”
She slowly sat up, her head still reeling a little. “I’ll take care of it.”
He frowned. “Look at me, Cherish. Why do your eyes look unfocused?”
“It is nothing. I fell asleep and am just waking up.”
He tucked a finger under her chin and gently tilted her head up so that their gazes met. “You hit your head when Lady Albin knocked you over, didn’t you? Tell me where it hurts.”
She tried not to wince as he ran his fingers lightly across her brow and delicately touched each temple. “Stop! I shall recover with a little rest. You needn’t poke and prod me.”
“That glaze in your eyes advises otherwise. Try to stay awake, for I fear you might have suffered a concussion.”
“No, it is nothing more than a little bump. I’ll be all right once you go away. Your Grace, you—”
“Call me Gawain, will you?”
“Why?”
“Because you are dear to me,” he said with such depth of feeling, she almost believed him.
“Me? Dear to you? How can you not despise me after those horrible things I said to you? I did not mean them.”
“I know.” He caressed her cheek. “Besides, I am quite thick-skinned. You weren’t saying anything I did not deserve.”
Her cheeks warmed to his touch, which was exquisitely gentle and quite dangerous to her composure. But in the next moment, she realized they were alone in her bedchamber.
Was there no chaperone? Where was Fiona? Or her housekeeper, the reliable Mrs. Harris? Her situation was already intolerable and would only get worse if he was found in here. “Oh dear. You must go. I cannot be alone with you.”
“Fiona will be up here shortly. Cherish, I am not going to compromise you.”
She laughed in disbelief. “What do you call this?” She groaned and glanced down at herself. How could he overlook her bosom practically spilling out of her chemise? If that flicker of heat in his eyes as she sat up was any indication, he had definitely taken notice. “I am not even dressed.”
He strode to her armoire and took out her robe. “Here, let me help you put it on.”
“No, I can do it myself,” she insisted, knowing she would melt in his arms if he touched her.
“All right.” He sank his muscled frame into the chair beside her bed and watched as she struggled to don the garment by herself. It pained her to raise her arm, but she was not goingto admit it to him. He sighed, probably knowing it had to hurt. “For what it’s worth,” he said, his voice gentle, “I have already seen whatever there is to be seen of you, so it matters little how thoroughly you now choose to cover yourself up.”
She frowned at him. “A gentleman would not have come in here.”
He trained his dark emerald gaze on her, his look as hot as it was determined. In this moment, Cherish felt the full extent of his power and the granite resolve behind it. “I am no gentleman. And I still need to cleanse that wound.”
“Fiona will do it.”
He cast her a wry smile. “But I am here now, and Fiona and her staff are still busy tossing out Lady Albin.”
“Good grief. How long does it take?”
