“Do what?”
“Look at me like that. Not right now.Oh hell…” He closed his eyes.
Right.
Right, then. What was wrong with her?
Amelia summoned all of that nurturing part of herself and forced her hands to move with some level of efficiency. Even so, she couldn’t drag her stare away from it.
It was so much larger than she’d envisioned.
But had she envisioned it? In being honest with herself, she conceded that yes. She had. But she’d only envisioned a blurry, vague, flesh-colored rod.
She hadn’t envisioned that it would be this pinkish, maroonish, and violet color, or that the skin would look almost polished. And she’d expected it to look threatening andominous, but it didn’t really. It was simply… there. Waving back and forth, and bobbing ever so slightly. She tilted her head, finding it cute, actually. The absurd notion that she could fashion one out of yarn proved she was, in fact, going a little mad.
“Sorry,” she gasped, realizing she’d been staring shamelessly. She forced her gaze to his thighs, to his knees. Once she reached his ankles, she felt a little dizzy.
“Can you step out?” she asked, surprised that she could speak.
Rather than answer, he placed his hands on her shoulders.
One foot, and then the other.
He is naked. He is completely naked now.
Thunder roared in her ears, but she was almost there. She knew, however, that she couldn’t draw this out any longer than necessary.
He was on the verge of passing out.
And she was on the verge of losing her sanity.
“Let me just…” She was able to reach her cloth and liniment. She worked automatically on a few cuts on his thighs, the tight muscles of his buttocks, and finally, breathing a sigh of relief, his feet.
“I’ll get your nightclothes.” Amelia rose, feeling as weak as he looked, but knowing that was impossible.
“I don’t wear any…”
“Well, then.” She exhaled a long breath.
“Amelia?” The way he said her name compelled her to meet his gaze.
“Yes?”
He blinked. “Thank you.”
Seeing real gratitude in his expression, Amelia’s heart swelled. This wasn’t the same as sending toys to orphanedchildren. No, for the first time in her life, she’d actually helped someone.
And not just anyone.
This man.
Her dear Mr. Beckworth.
After helpingMr. Beckworth into his bed, Amelia spent the remainder of the night sitting in the chair beside him—mostly studying him.
He’d fallen asleep the instant his head hit the pillow and Amelia couldn’t help but think he looked surprisingly innocent. More than that, actually. With his lips soft and the large red mark blazing on his cheek, he looked…
Tragically vulnerable.
