“She cannot help that her arm has broken.” Her voice was husky, and clearly she was still not well.
He should not have kissed her.
“How do you feel?”
“Better.”
“Liar.” He made himself tease her, to put them back on the footing they’d held previously.
Her chin rose which was another very Samantha gesture. She’d learned to be strong with the help of her family. Learned that she did not need to be afraid or cower to anyone. He loved that about her.
“Go and check on things, and I”—she paused to cough—“will dress.”
He washed and pulled on clean clothes behind the screen. Samantha was still on her knees staring at the wall when he was done.
“What?” Warwick asked her.
“What?”
“What are you thinking about? I told you to dismiss that kiss. It meant nothing.” He was lying of course. He couldn’t remember a kiss that meant more. But he was deliberately making light of it.
“I know, and I have to share most everything in my life, but my thoughts are my own, Warwickshire Sinclair. Would you stay here while I clothe myself. I need you to do up my dress.”
He sighed loudly, as was also expected of him.
She got out of bed, rummaged through her luggage, and he tried not to stare at the outline of her limbs in that nightdress. Thankfully, she soon headed behind the screen.
He heard water splashing as she washed. Wandering to the window to look outside, Warwick saw the morning held the promise of fine weather. She let out a hacking cough that had him wincing.
“If you could do the buttons, please.”
He turned to find her standing before him. She was pale, and her eyes seemed to take up most of her face. Her hair was a thick tangled mass over one shoulder. She wore a cream dress with tiny peach flowers all over it.Sweet.She turned, showing her back. The opening exposed her chemise and the pale skin above it. He moved closer and began forcing buttons through holes.
His fingers felt too big for the task, and his thoughts were consumed with the need to press his lips to her skin. Kissing Samantha had been a mistake because now he wanted more. More of her taste. More of the feel of her body pressed to his.
And that is not going to happen, he reminded himself. Not now. Not ever.
CHAPTERSIX
“You will not make a very good lady’s maid, Warwick. Penny is far more nimble-fingered.”
“She has smaller hands, and these buttons are ridiculously tiny,” he muttered. Relieved when it was done, he grunted something about leaving and did so without another glance at her.
He’d just spent the night with Samantha in his arms and then kissed her. He had to put things between them back on the footing they’d always been. Had to regroup.
He tapped on the door three down from his and Samantha’s. Archie answered, looking disheveled.
“How is she?”
“She had a rough night. But I got more laudanum into her and managed snatches of sleep.”
Archie opened the door wider and Warwick entered. The maid was resting on pillows, tired and pale.
“How are you feeling this morning, Penny?”
“Better thank you, sir,” she said.
“Do you feel up to traveling?”
