She made a frustrated gesture. “What else can I do? I can’t fight Count Anton myself. And nobody else believes me.”
“I believe you. And you can’t fight him, but I can.”
“How?” she demanded. “You are but one man. Count Anton has practically an army.”
“A battle is not always won on brute strength alone.”
“You might be more convincing if you looked less like something the cat spat out, Mr. Gabe, so let’s get you cleaned up,” Mrs. Barrow interrupted. She’d brought hot water, clean cloths, and a daunting array of medicinal-looking pots.
Callie stood back to let Mrs. Barrow at him.
“How do you imagine you can defeat Count Anton?” she asked Gabe as Mrs. Barrow stripped off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, leaving only his breeches. Gabe placed a hand on his waistband to make sure they stayed that way.
Callie stared. Angry marks were all over his body, where he’d been kicked and punched. There was even the imprint of a boot heel on the back of his left hand.
It was her fault he was hurt. He’d got like this defending Tibby from Count Anton’s men. Her anger faded and guilt replaced it.
“Don’t do that,” he told her.
“Do what?”
“Chew your lips like that. They’re a work of art, those lips, and should not to be chomped on or mangled. Nibbled on tenderly, perhaps. I’ll show you how, later.”
Callie stared at him, unable to think of a single thing to say.A work of art?And then she realized he’d just offered tonibble on her lips. She fought a blush.
“That’s enough of your mischief, Mr. Gabe. The lass has been beside herself with worry for you,” Mrs. Barrow said. “And you, ma’am, don’t give this another thought.” She indicated the battered masculine torso. “I’ve been patching up him and Harry since they were knee-high to a grasshopper. As long as the devilment is still in this one, he’s all right.”
Callie took comfort in the woman’s words. She could see the devilment dancing in the one blue eye that could open. So while Mrs. Barrow dabbed at the cuts and abrasions with a mix of vinegar and hot saltwater, he explained what had happened.
He’d been caught half under the dresser trying to catch the cat. A high-booted thug with a thin golden mustache had demanded he produce a princess. “As if I had hidden one under the dresser!” he scoffed.
“That was Count Anton,” Callie confessed, “I am the princess he was after.”
“I knew that. Princess Caroline of Zindaria.”
Her eyes widened. “How did you know?”
He shrugged. “The Zindari horsemen and their fabled savage horses have been an interest of my brother Harry’s for years, so I’d already worked out where you came from based on Nicky’s talk. And you being a princess? Well, since Nicky’s father was one of the top men, it wasn’t much of a stretch.”
Mrs. Barrow’s jaw dropped open. After a stunned moment she slapped the wet cloth across his chest. “If you knew she was a princess, you should’ve warned me,” she scolded. “I’ve been calling herlovie! Andyoushouldn’t be sitting here half naked in front of her.”
“I don’t mind,” Callie said, meaning she hadn’t minded being called lovie.
His lips quirked. He winked and Callie blushed, realizing her words could also mean she didn’t mind his semi-clothed state. And though she hadn’t meant that at all, it was not untrue.
Even beaten up and covered in scrapes, his body fascinated her.
Mrs. Barrow poked him. “You don’t wink at princesses. I’m sorry, Your Highness, but he wasn’t brought up to be so rag-mannered. It’s all that time he spent in foreign parts. Lift up and I’ll check for broken ribs,” she ordered him. He lifted his arms for her, and she poked carefully along the line of each rib.
Callie watched anxiously.
Mrs. Barrow noticed. “Don’t you worry, Your Highness,” she assured Callie. “There’s nothing broken. It looks worse than it is.”
“But—”
“He’s been much worse and survived, Your Highness. Like a cat, he is. Besides, never happier than when he’s in trouble, Mr. Gabe. Fretting himself to flinders, he was, Your Highness, before you arrived. Bored to death and miserable with it. Blaming hisself for things that weren’t his fault. Turn.”
He turned. “I never believed your name was Prynne,” he told Callie. “You’re a terrible liar.”
