“I’m fine,” she said. “The physician already looked.”
“Well, you’re still limping, and I want to check.”
She folded her arms. “You aren’t a physician.”
“And? What of that?”
“And I don’t need you to check my injury,” she sputtered. “It’s alreadybeenlooked at, Reeves. I don’t need you to look at it.”
His eyes met hers and held her steady. “I would feel better, though, if you’d let me,” he said. “I don’t imagine I’m going to get much sleep tonight worrying about this.”
“Worrying about my turned ankle?” She gazed up at him, and what she saw surprised her.
He was serious. He meant what he was saying. This wasn’t some ploy to exert control over her, or to try to make her feel uncomfortable. He truly was so worried about her ankle that he was having trouble focusing on anything else. She could tell by the intensity in his gaze and the way his eyes kept cutting from her face down to her leg. This was a matter of concern for him, and he really wasn’t going to rest easy until she had indulged him.
A wave of awkward discomfort washed through her. None of this was normal. None of this wasdecent. A man in her room, insisting that he needed to examine her ankle…that was odd, to say the least. Improper. And what was worse was the growing realization in the pit of Bridget’s stomach that she was going to allow it. She was going to let him do what he wanted to do, despite knowing she shouldn’t.
“All right,” she said, her voice low. “A quick look, then.”
He didn’t move, and after a moment, she realized what the issue was—he was waiting for her to take the initiative. He wouldn’t lift her skirts himself. He was too much of a gentleman for that.
Not that it made her feel much better to be the one to do it. She gritted her teeth and pulled them up just a few inches, tucking her good leg up beneath her so that only the injured ankle was exposed.
She hadn’t looked at it herself since Dr. Roberts had departed. Seeing it now, she let out a gasp. The skin was discolored, and it was swollen to nearly twice its normal size.No wonder that was so painful to walk on.
Reeves bent over it and brushed his fingertips gently over the discolored area.
She flinched as a bolt of pain shot through her.
“I apologize,” he murmured. “This won’t take long. Can you bear it?”
She gritted her teeth and nodded.
The truth was that the pain was bearable—it was no worse than what she had experienced when the physician had been examining her. In fact, in spite of the hideous appearance of her ankle, it hurt slightly less now. She was encouraged by that. Dr. Roberts had warned her that it might start to look bad, though she hadn’t been prepared forthislevel of atrocity. He’d said itwas nothing to worry about, and that it would mean she was healing.
That wasn’t the sole reason she had flinched.
It was something about his hand on her leg. It made her feel as if she were being burned. The strangest part, though, was that the fire licking at her wasn’t painful. It was radiant, as if she were staring into the sun, but it didn’t hurt her. Instead, a shocking warmth spread through her body, from the place he had touched her all the way up her leg and straight to her heart.
She sucked in a breath and tried to remain as still as possible, hoping that he wouldn’t see how affected she was.
Fortunately, he wasn’t looking at her face. His gaze remained on her ankle. That wasn’t exactly soothing—it made her heart race to have his eyes and his hands on her leg like that, even if he were just examining her injury. She closed her eyes and tried to forget that it was happening. She took deep breaths in the hope of steadying herself.
Finally, his fingers withdrew. “I think you’re going to be all right,” he murmured.
Bridget wanted to say that, of course she was, that she’d told him she was, but words escaped her. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes, twitching her skirts back into place so that her ankle was covered once more.
“And you’re feeling all right?” he asked her.
Bridget found her voice. “I’m feeling fine,” she said. “I think it will be much better by morning.”
“But if it isn’t, you’re to tell me at once,” he said firmly. “And I’ll call Dr. Roberts back so that he can treat it for you. We aren’t going to take any chances with your health while… while you’re under my care.”
There had been a hesitation there. She had the feeling there was something he had wanted to say that he hadn’t said.
But she was too timid to ask him what it was. This whole interaction had already been much more than she had bargained for. She withdrew from him, pressing her back to the wall so that there was as much distance between the two of them as there could possibly be without Bridget leaving the window seat.
She could have left. She could have stood and gone back to her bed. Something was stopping her. It was as if she were being pulled toward him, or held there by him, even though he was no longer touching her. It was strange.
