“Christ,” he managed as he turned his head on the pillow.
She stood and leaned over him. A lock of hair he’d loosened when he kissed her fell from her plain bun and brushed over his skin. He focused on its silkiness, the way it tickled his chest.
“This will help,” she promised, slathering the mixture she’d made over his wound.
He lurched at the cold of the medicine. The way it made his flesh tingle as it sank into the gash she’d created. But within a few seconds, he felt a blissful numbness that worked its way through the flesh.
“There now,” she whispered as she reached up and began to unfasten his trouser flap. “Better?”
He stared at her, his body torn between pleasure and pain as she touched him. He felt dizzy as he whispered, “What are you doing to me?”
She smiled. “I must remove your trousers to look at your leg, Lucas. I promise it is only for the purpose of treating you.”
He closed his eyes as she tugged the fabric away and left him naked. “You can do whatever you’d like, Diana. You must be able to see that.”
She said something, but it sounded far away. He focused on the way her fingers brushed over his leg. He had no idea how much time passed and then she was next to him, her lips brushing his temple as she whispered, “Rest now.”
He thought he should respond, but there were no words he could come up with. None that made any sense, at any rate. So he let his drooping eyes close and surrendered to the unconsciousness that his body demanded.
Chapter Five
Diana stood in the kitchen, pulling chunks of meat from the bones of the chicken she had just taken from the spit over the fire. She had always liked to cook and had done so for her father for years. The science of it was very similar to the science of poultices and tinctures, so the act felt familiar and soothing.
Not that it was working at present. Despite the occupation, her mind kept taking her back to thoughts of Lucas. It had been twenty-four hours since she had reopened and cleaned his wounds. He’d been sleeping ever since, a deep sleep of powerful pain and, she hoped, healing at last. He deserved that after the nightmare he’d been through over the past six months.
She’d checked on him nearly every hour. Told herself it was her duty as a healer, but that was only half the reason. The other half was the thing that kept her staring up at her ceiling in her bed. He had kissed her. Deeply and thoroughly and with all the experience a man of that type would have. She should have turned away, but she hadn’t. She couldn’t.
It was deeply disconcerting to admit that, even just to herself. But she’d felt a strange and powerful draw to Lucas from the moment she saw him. Something unlike anything she’d ever felt before.
She’dwantedthat kiss. More and more with each passing hour she spent with him. Worse, she wanted another.Thatwas why she came in to check on him. To study those surprisingly full lips. To consider what they would feel like if they touched hers again. If they brushed over her skin until she came completely undone.
“A very hazardous path,” she muttered as she speared the carcass and tugged more steaming chicken from the bone. “One you’ve traveled before, to your detriment.”
The Duke of Willowby was dangerous, full stop. There was nothing more to be said on the matter.
Except her mind kept saying a great deal more. Dangerous but so handsome. Dangerous but undeniably charismatic. Dangerous, but when he looked at her she wanted things she knew were wrong. Things that could destroy her entire world.
She shook her head, trying, for what had to be the hundredth time, to remove those wicked thoughts from her head. In her distraction, she moved her hand and grazed it along the side of the hot metal tong that was sticking out of the chicken’s middle. “Ouch!” she barked, lifting her hand to her lips to suck on the red flesh.
“Let me help.”
She turned and started at the sight of Lucas standing in the entryway of the kitchen, leaning on the doorjamb, his face pale. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair wild from sleep, but her body began to tingle nonetheless at the sight of him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, rushing forward to help him and forcing herself to focus on her role as healer, not wanton. “God’s teeth, you should sleep another day after what you endured.”
“Anotherday?” he repeated, his eyes going wide. “How long have I slept already?”
“Twenty-four hours, a little more, actually,” she said.
He tensed and his lips thinned. “What did you give me? Laudanum?”
She helped him to a seat. “Something like it, mixed into the poultice to help with the pain.”
“I don’t like laudanum. It makes me out of control,” he said softly.
She frowned as she lifted her hand to her mouth again. He caught it before she could reach her lips and turned it over to look at the minor burn that abraded the skin of her palm.
“You must have some magic for this,” he said, lifting his eyes to hers.
