“Did that hurt?” he asked when he saw her wince.
“A little,” she admitted.
“You might have a slight concussion.” He turned to Martha. “We’re not going to move Miss Temple out of my bed. I’ll take the chamber Mrs. Fitch was preparing for her.”
“Your Grace! But it—”
“Enough, Martha. This bed will do best for her. She’ll need supervision for the next few days and nights. It is easiest to care for her here.” He proceeded to run his hands along her neck and then her back, taking care to be very gentle with her spine. He did not suspect a neck or spinal injury, for he had seen her moving her fingers when he took off her gloves, and then moving her toes when he had taken off her boots.
The next part of her body he wished to check was her hip, but that would prove tricky because he needed to lift her chemise to get at it. How could he accomplish this without being obvious?
“Martha, grab one of my handkerchiefs from the top drawer of my bureau and moisten it. And I have some cologne in my dressing room. Fetch it quickly.”
While Martha occupied herself with the chores he’d given her, Jonas took a quick look at Ailis’s hip. Her eyes shot open the moment his hand touched her skin, but he warned her to stay quiet. A bruise had formed on her hip, but it appeared to be otherwise all right.
He lowered her chemise back in place, and then gave her cheek a gentle caress. “Temple, I’ll take a closer look at your wrist next. You might have sprained it when bracing yourself for the fall.”
She said nothing, merely looked humiliated.
Her cheeks were aflame, for they both knew he had seen more than her hip. But it couldn’t be helped. “Any doctor would have done the same,” he said quietly so as not to be overheard by Martha.
Ailis closed her eyes and attempted to turn her head away, then cried out when that slight movement proved painful.
He sighed, for there was nothing he could say to make the situation better. He had seen too much of her and she knew it. He attempted to soften her embarrassment anyway. “I learned a lot about battlefield wounds while fighting Napoleon in Spain. I’m probably more adept than most doctors here in Yorkshire.”
“Still…yousawme,” she said in a whisper. “We are no longer on equal footing.”
“We never were. I am a duke. No one other than the royal family can claim a higher rank.” He glanced around to make certain Martha was not listening in. “Not even our kisses will make us equal, much as I enjoyed the experience.”
She sniffled.
“Do not start crying again, Temple.”
“That’s Miss Temple to you.”
“Temple,” he insisted, irritated by how easily she got under his skin lately. It was the abridged version of Miss Temple of Virtue, and safest to use when others were too close by. Only he and Ailis were privy to its full meaning. He supposed it was not kind of him to call her that, but he never meant it as an insult. He liked that she held to her principles and yet was not a holier-than-thou sort of spinster with a puckered, prune-like face and a disapproving air.
She was always quick to put him in his place whenever he deserved it, which he often did because she had a way of rattling his complacency with her soft, sweet face and bright smile.
He also liked that she was sharp-witted enough to best him.
And now, there was another thing he liked about her…that insanely gorgeous body she had kept hidden under her serviceable and eminently practical gowns.
He took the moistened handkerchief and cologne from Martha when she returned to his side. After sprinkling a bit of the cologne onto the damp square of cloth, he ran it lightly along Ailis’s neck and then placed it upon her forehead. “Just restquietly. Mrs. Fitch will return shortly, and I shall fashion a sling for you. Some ice will help ease the swelling. I’ll apply it to your wrist and shoulder once we’re through getting you settled.”
Within the hour, she had been properly tended and fed, although nothing heavier than broth had been given to her, upon his orders. Mrs. Fitch had fetched a thick shawl and a pair of woolen stockings to keep Ailis’s feet warm. In addition, his thoughtful housekeeper had set out extra blankets and a warming brick at the foot of the bed.
Jonas tossed more wood onto the fire in the hearth and stoked it to a blaze. As the sun set and darkness fell, the flames seemed to brighten and cast a glow about the room. That warm light wrapped itself around Ailis, enhancing the burnished gold of her unbound hair.
That lovely mass of curls took on a more amber hue by firelight.
Clearing his throat, he returned to her side and placed a cloth filled with ice on her wrist and another on her shoulder to ease the swelling. The cloths had to be replenished several times because the ice melted fast in the stifling heat of the room.
However, Ailis was still shivering and looked quite miserable. “I should move into the guest bedchamber,” she said, her throat sounding dry.
“No, Temple. You’ll stay in here. I don’t mind being displaced for a few days.” More to the point, he did not mind having Ailis occupy his bed.
She looked so right in it.
