Feeling more himself, He flattened his palms on the bed and hoisted himself up, much to Kitty's distress. Though he ignored her pleas to desist, she clearly had a point. His head pounded, and for a moment the room spun, but he refused to concede defeat.
When he finally sat upright, his shoulders pressed against the cushioned headboard, he closed his eyes and sucked in a fortifying breath.
That or wretch.
“You shouldn’t have done that. You’re hurt.”
He opened his eyes and slanted her a glance. “I rather noticed that on my own. Now, kindly tell me what the hell is going on. Why does my head feel as if it’s cracked open, and why are you in my bedchamber in the middle of the night? And more to the point, why’ve you been crying?”
She dropped into the chair someone had pulled to his bedside, a morose expression clouding her crystalline green eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and out came her quivering lower lip.
The moment that plump lip caught his eye, his loins stirred to life. He would laugh if he didn’t think doing so would make the pounding in his head worse. He shuffled his legs to rumple hisbedcovers over his groin, and dropped a hasty glance down at himself.
He was bare-chested, leading him to wonder if other body parts were equally bare. He peeled back the covers and peered beneath. Drawers, and nothing else.
He threw Kitty a suspicious look, and was gratified to see a rosy flush stain her cheeks. “I’d also like to know who undressed me.”
Mainly he wanted to provoke her out of her gloom. She was still in the yellow gown she’d worn to the shooting match earlier, so he couldn’t be half naked for any good reason.
Shooting. They’d had their match.
She sucked in a breath, then her words poured out. “I nearly killed you with Viscount Randall’s pistol. I don’t know who undressed you since the doctor demanded I leave during his examination, after which Collin insisted I wait ’til morning to see you, but I refused.”
She lowered her voice to a confessional tone. “Actually, I acceded to his request, then snuck back here after everyone was asleep.”
He lifted his hand to stop her diatribe in case there was more. He closed his eyes, taking a moment to digest her rapid-fire speech. He’d forgotten about Collin showing up this morning. He needed to revisit that fact, but one thing at a time.
“You fired Randall’s firearm.” He drew out the words as the memory congealed. He’d crowded her, purposely provoking her. He could almost hear his grandfather saying, I told you so.
“And almost killed you,” she said in a plaintive tone.
The corners of his mouth curved upward. “Kitty, no.”
“Yes.”
“It was an accident.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No. You made me angry, standing so very close behind me and…” She swallowed, fanning her face as if to calm her quaking nerves.
The scent of lavender wafted over him. He grinned and crossed his arms over his chest. Now that he’d righted himself and taken several steadying breaths, he felt much better. In fact, he felt good enough he had to wonder if he’d had some help of the medicinal nature.
“I shouldn’t have reacted to your sour-puss disposition, by firing so hastily..”
His grin wavered. He did vaguely recall her avoiding his gaze while also brushing off his every attempt to draw her into conversation. Why had she done that? But he had no time to reflect further as she barreled on.
“I remembered how, once before, I’d knocked into you from a gun’s recoil. Do you recall? At the cottage? This morning I thought I’d teach you a lesson by not bracing myself properly again and…bam,”--She clapped her hands together, the sound reverberating painfully in his head--“I brained you.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek.
He lifted a hand to wipe it away, but she sprang to her feet like a skittish cat.
“Oh, Zeke. Does it hurt much?” She leaned toward him, placing her cool fingertips gently on his forehead. Her sweet, utterly Kitty scent surrounded him.
He sighed in contentment. “It does a little,” he said, mostly so she’d keep touching him. “You’re watching over me even against Collin’s express directive not to? I feel special.”
She bit her lip and averted her gaze, but not before he saw her chin quiver, and tell-tale moisture dampening her lashes as if she might cry anew.
Dear God, anything but that. “May I have a cold towel for my brow?”
“Of course.” She dashed toward his bureau, returning with a damp towel. She took her time, dabbing his forehead and cheeks. Then she reached around him to drape the cloth over the back of his neck. Doing so brought her bodice eye level.
