She'd never felt this way before. Aroused. That's what it was.
Her sisters had tried to explain all these things to her, but they didn't have meaning until now. She truly had been an innocent. Now she was a woman and he a man, and there was no going back from that realization.
The doctor’s return broke the tension in the room. He brought an apprentice and strongly urged Willa to leave. She didn't have the energy to fight him. She was too relieved he was here at all and that Knightly, or whoever he was, would finally get the help he needed.
Willa went down to the taproom and the innkeeper's wife served her a cup of tea. The taproom was bustling with visitors but subdued, allowing Willa to remain lost in her thoughts, thinking of her sisters, her mother and father, even of Wesley.
Guilt wracked her. She'd been careless with their concern. She'd set out to prove something. But all she'd done is show them—and now she realized herself—that she wasn't as mature or as worldly as she thought she was. Willa had always considered herself a reasonable person. This just proved, she reassured herself, she was as flawed as the people around her. Even the other debutantes that she judged so harshly.
Humility had a bitter taste, but she swallowed it.
Chapter 15
Dr. Smith squirted a caustic concoction through the vents of the helmet. The fumes burned his eyes, even though he squeezed his lids closed. He held his breath, but it seemed to seep through his skin.
He bit down on a leather strap the doctor had mercifully provided him, sealing his lips around the hide to prevent the liquid oozing down his face and running into his mouth. He began to doubt if Mr. Smith was an actual doctor or a man who pretended to be one in order to torture people. His assistant held him down by his shoulders. Not that he had the energy to fight back.
They’d given him laudanum. He thought it was to help with the pain, but all it did was weaken him so he couldn’t fight back.
“You have an infection,” Dr. Smith said. “The fluid is now clearer, less viscous and clouded. Another day of this and you might have died. You're lucky you got to Swinton when you did.”
Knightly grumbled a response. Luck had nothing to do with it. It was all Willa. She drove him to go farther than he would have pushed himself had he been alone. He might still be in the field, his body being pecked at by crows and vultures if not for Willa urging him to move.
He owed her his life.
And yet… He’d been curt with her. None of this was her fault. No one wished to be captured by highwaymen. She felt guilty enough. He knew he was angrier at himself than her and tortured by these strange emotions. He felt the frustration of the unknown. He wanted to be a man she could rely on to protect her, to care for her.
His muscles eased, and the pain, now that the doctor wasn't torturing him so acutely, was bearable. Dr. Smith and his apprentice Mr. Bagley spoke to each other in muffled words, but all he could do was think of Willa.
He would apologize to her. He wanted to hold her and sift his fingers through her hair like he had done this morning.
It amazed him that he could feel attraction at all, given the circumstances. There was so much he wanted to say and do for her, but he was hindered by this damn helmet and his loss of memory.
When they reached London and she was reunited with her family, he knew he should offer to marry her, and he was stunned to realize that part of him wanted to.
But what if he couldn't? What if he was denied because he didn't know his own name? The less scrupulous part of his mind might suggest that he lie, but that was a ridiculous option. He couldn't make up an identity. Somewhere out there someone must know who he was, and until he knew without a doubt that he could offer for her, that he could give her everything she deserved, he had to keep these feelings to himself and control his attraction to Willa.
No matter how desire clawed at him.
The doctor interrupted his thoughts.
“I’ve left another dose of my pain tonic for you to take this evening. I’ll inform your wife that you should rest for the remainder of the day without disruption. Don't be alarmed if the fever remains for the rest of the day. It will take time to fight the infection. I will check on you at the same time tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” Knightly said and the doctor and apprentice left.
He dozed, coming in and out of wakefulness. Willa returned to the room and put a hand on his chest. In his foggy mind, he wondered if she touched him like this intentionally. Her fingers slid tantalizingly through the crisp air on his chest, his skin coming alive at her touch.
“You're quite flushed,” she said. “I brought you fresh water if you're thirsty.”
He nodded his head gently and moved to sit up. The pounding had returned. The side of his skull where the doctor had flushed the wound felt like embers were embedded in his face, steadily cooking his head.
He gulped down some water, and she spoon-fed him more broth and a few bites of buttered bread.
“Is that enough?” she asked.
“Yes. I'm feeling better but very sleepy.”
“You should sleep more. Don’t worry about me. The innkeeper's wife, Mrs. Davies, lent me a book to read. I’ll just sit here, and if you need me, just call out.”
