“It’s nothing,” she said. “You don’t need to worry…go back to whatever you were doing. We’re fine, aren’t we, Emma?”
Emma didn’t answer, but her eyes grew wider. Reeves knew his daughter well enough to know that that wasn’t the expression she wore when things werefine.
“Something happened, or you wouldn’t have summoned a physician,” he said. “I can make Dr. Roberts tell me what’s going on here, if you’d like, Bridget… or you can tell me yourself.”
She sighed. “It’s really nothing. I turned my ankle on the stairs coming down, that’s all. I thought it was fine, but then I was having trouble putting pressure on it, and the butler thought I ought to have it looked at, so he sent a footman to fetch the physician. But really, I’m just fine. Maybe you ought to take Emma out of here now, actually—I think she was a little shaken up by it all. And then the physician can finish the examination.”
Reeves felt his jaw clench.
On the one hand, of course, he knew that she was right. He should give her time alone with Dr. Roberts. It was a good idea, too, to take Emma out of here as quickly as possible. She didn’t seem to be panicking, exactly, but it was obvious from the wide-eyed expression on her face that she was ill at ease.
But, at the same time, Reeves found himself resistant to the idea of walking away—he didn’twantto leave. He wanted to stay here, right by Bridget’s side, and make sure she was all right.
He couldn’t understand why he was having such a powerful reaction.What am I going to do about it, after all? She’s with Dr. Roberts. He’ll do what needs to be done—he’s a good doctor, and I trust him with this. My presence won’t make any difference.
Resolved, he turned to his daughter. “Come with me, Emma,” he said firmly, holding out a hand. “Let’s leave Dr. Roberts to take care of Bridget.”
Emma got slowly to her feet. She looked at her father, and then at Bridget. She seemed hesitant to move.
“It’s all right,” Bridget told her, smiling, though the smile did look a little pained. Reeves couldn’t help but notice that. “You and I will see one another soon, Emma. I’m just going to finish up here, and then I’ll come and find you. I promise.”
Her voice was full of warmth, and Emma seemed reassured. She crossed the room and took her father’s hand, allowing Reeves to lead her out.
As they left, Reeves glanced over his shoulder.
Bridget was watching him go, her hands on her skirts, and he could see that she was waiting for the appropriate moment to hike them up again.
A sudden heat filled him.
In addition to wanting to make sure she was all right—which he did want, and badly—he wanted to linger so that he could get one more glimpse of that smooth skin.
Thatdefinitelywasn’t right. He turned, gripping Emma’s hand, led her out the door, and closed it firmly behind him.
But as he walked away from the sitting room, Reeves couldn’t help but notice that his heart was pounding.
CHAPTER 17
The knock at her bedroom door shocked Bridget so badly that she dropped the book she’d been holding.
Dr. Roberts had told her that he might check in on her later. She probably should have expected it. But she’d let herself believe that he had gone for the night, since it was starting to get late. Emma had already gone to bed. She cleared her throat. “Come in,” she said.
The door swung open.
It wasn’t Dr. Roberts. Instead, Reeves stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe. Bridget gasped, fumbled for the book, and shoved it under her pillow.
His eyes narrowed. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” she said quickly, feeling her face grow hot. She would die if he knew that she had gone ahead and taken the book Agneshad suggested for her. She took a risk, got up from the bed, and crossed the room toward the window seat, hoping he would be distracted by the movement.
It worked. He turned and watched her cross the room. “You shouldn’t be on your feet,” he said. “I came to see how you were doing after your injury.”
“I’m all right.”
“You’re limping.” He was by her side in two steps, and to Bridget’s shock, he swept her up in his arms without so much as aby your leave.
She cried out. “What are you doing? Put me down.”
He did, but only after closing the distance between them and the window seat. Carefully, he bent and set her down there, then grabbed the blanket at the foot of the seat and spread it across her lap. “I want to examine it,” he said. “Your ankle, I mean. I want to see for myself and make sure you’re doing all right.”
