“The fact that you’re here? Dressed like that, and I can hardly move?” His gaze dropped from her eyes to her mouth. “Yeah.”
“No, no…” Amelia had to clear her throat. He was delirious. “The liniment—the vinegar…”
After a short pause, he answered, “At first. It goes numb… eventually.” Then his mouth twitched. “Not to worry, My Lady Nurse, I’ll live.” Even in this state, he found enjoyment in teasing her.
“Enough of that Mr. Beckworth.” But she didn’t really mean it. Surely, the fact that he could tease her meant he was going to be all right?
By the time she’d circled around him, the stench of the vinegar had her eyes burning. She blinked back stinging tears as she covered up the last abrasion, and then she stepped back in order to get a proper look at him.
He looked absolutely exhausted, the poor man, and his eyes still had that dazed look about them. There wasn’t much more that could be done for him without calling for a doctor, aside from a good night’s sleep.
She ought to help him get into bed.
But then…
“You’ll need to get rid of your… of those.”His breeches.
But she wasn’t wrong. They were damp and he needed to be warm and dry. “Let me see what I can find to cover your?—"
Before she could finish, he’d lifted himself out of the chair. He was clenching his jaw, and all the blood seemed to have drained from his face.
He was a portrait of contrasts, his dark eyes, hair and beard, stark against the canvas of almost ghostly white skin.
“All right then.” She supposed that if he wasn’t worried about his modesty, she wouldn’t be either. He managed to unfasten the falls all the way, but they didn’t budge. Already a form-fitting garment, the damp fabric clung firmly to his skin, and Mr. Beckworth was in no fit state to deal with them himself.
It was up to her to peel them off.
“Oh my,” she breathed, dropping to her knees, bracing herself for… Should she turn her head? But if she wasn’t looking, she might overlook another injury.
She couldn’t get squeamish now.
Lifting one leg at a time, Amelia adjusted her gown so it wasn’t pulling at her. Once she’d done that, she exhaled.
And then placed her hands on his hips. If she leaned forward six inches, she could…
“I imagine it’s like taking off a pair of stockings…” Despite her best efforts, her voice caught again.
“Stockings?”
“I’ll just roll the fabric.” She folded the waistband down. Having uncovered two little dimples just below his hip, where that skin was smooth and tight, she cleared her throat. “Like I would a pair of my stockings.”
“I’ll do well to remember that,” he said. Was his voice catching too?
With the first downward fold, she uncovered more of those short, curling hairs. Against the backs of her fingers, she noticed these weren’t as soft as the ones on his chest. There were more of them. Another roll revealed the tops of his thighs.
Turn away, a small voice warned her. But every lesson she’d ever learned involving propriety evaporated into thin air.
There was a bulge… a rather large bulge. Unless it was her imagination, it was getting larger.
One more fold, and his member sprang free. And then it waved a little from side to side.
Torn, Amelia froze. The buttoned-up Amelia, the one she’d been last week, urged her to flee. The part of Amelia determined to nurse him back to health, however, was committed to seeing this through.
And there was a third part. One that had her licking her lips.
For reasons she didn’t understand, she lifted her gaze and met his eyes.
“You can’t do that,” he said in a strangled voice.
