“Certainly, milord.” Redfern gazed at her, concerned. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”
Laura shook her head, but Lord Debnam answered for her.
“A slight injury caused by wandering about the woodland wearing unsuitable footwear. Send for ice.”
Annoyed, Laura frowned up at him, wanting to protest. But she remembered his accusation, that she was argumentative, and she was hardly in a position to make a scene. A pity she would like very much to poke him on his hard chest. She sighed and gave in to the indignity of being carried like an invalid up the stairs. She couldn’t despise him, although she tried hard to. And she no longer feared him. He wasn’t the charming gentleman she had danced with at a ball. He was gruff and often silent and a complete mystery. Yet, for some unfathomable reason, he reminded her of a bird with a broken wing she had cared for until it could fly away. She found that disturbing and pondered on it. She had been a mystery to herself too, since she’d come here, and she was no longer sure what she wanted.
He carried her effortlessly, taking two steps at a time and not at all puffed when he reached her bedchamber. He opened the door and carried her inside, walked to the bed, and laid her down. Taking hold of her foot, he slipped off the shoe, then turned to the other one. Laura tensed. Was he about to disrobe her? Her heart fluttered. He stood over her, his gaze roaming her face and down over her body, making her aware of her legs bared above the knee. Desire darkened his eyes. She trembled. “Shall I remove your stocking?” he asked gruffly.
Did he plan to seduce her? She shook her head, unable to trust her voice. Surely not now, when she was hurt. But the heady moment passed, and he straightened up.
“Thank you for your help, milord,” she said briskly as she arranged her skirts to cover her limbs.
Lord Debnam’s lip quirked up. “It’s unnecessary to thank me. I enjoyed having you in my arms.” He moved away from the bed. “And the glimpse of your pretty legs.”
He thought her legs pretty? Momentarily distracted by his compliment, she sighed with relief. He didn’t intend to behave like a callous rake and take her when she was at her most vulnerable, which would have profoundly disappointed her. Lightheaded, Laura grinned, grabbed a small pillow, and threw it at him. Lord Debnam caught it neatly, tossed it onto the pink, velvet chaise lounge at the foot of the bed, and, with a chuckle, left the room.
Laura stared at the closed door. What had just happened? Were they now friends?
The door opened and Penny came in, wiping the foolish grin from Laura’s face. She lay back on the pillow in total confusion about him and herself. If only their meeting could have been under different circumstances. That he could be the one. The hero she wanted so desperately to return her love. But Lord Debnam was not that man. And never could be.
*
Brendan thought ofLaura lying provocatively on the bed. Her delightful laugh warming him. He wanted to turn around and go back, join her there. It had been a torturous journey carrying her from the woods. He’d been in a constant state of arousal from the moment he’d picked her up. Her soft, curvaceous warmth had rubbed against him the whole way to the house.
It was bad enough that visions of kissing his way up those long, shapely legs, and other more intimate places, disrupted his sleep. He had decided to wait for Laura to show she wanted him. But the longer this went on, with him dancing around her, and her natural, unaffected nature making him doubt the wisdom of bringing her here, the more he felt this was torment. He sensed she wanted to be wooed, and he’d been happy to oblige, but now, fairly certain she’d never lain with a man, he found himself hamstrung.
Laura wasn’t so naïve as to believe she’d come here for a passionless holiday, he reasoned. She would know what the arrangement entailed, but he liked and respected her as a person. And that was the most damning of all. It complicated everything. He felt like a villain. Smarter by far to have chosen a woman with some experience, not an innocent, but without thought, he’d sought the one woman he would like to marry. A big mistake. Brendan should call himself fortune’s fool and send her home. He would have done so before this, but the stark thought of the empty months ahead, before returning to a different kind of loneliness in London, had stayed him. He was a rational man and disliked how out of sorts he was. A few delightful weeks with Laura might make him feel better for a time. But when it was over? What then? Would his low mood deepen?
And now Gaylord had seen Laura. His uncle would be interested in finding out why she was here. He must not learn she was without parents or chaperone. Brendan didn’t trust him to keep silent.
He groaned. There was no option but to send for her brother to come take her home. He would tell her in the morning before he could change his mind. And in case he weakened in his resolve to take her to bed, he would do as he promised and take her to see the beach. If Laura’s ankle was better, they could have a picnic near the water. But they’d have to take the maid, damn it.
In a few days, Laura would have gone. At the thought, the dark shadows which plagued him when his mood was low seemed to gather around him. Would he never know true contentment?
Chapter Six
Mrs. Brandt, thehousekeeper, was a polite and efficient woman. If she disapproved of Laura staying here unaccompanied, she didn’t reveal it. Upper-ranking servants were inclined to be prudish. She left Laura to Penny’s ministrations, which were enthusiastic rather than gentle. But the ice helped to prevent any swelling and Laura could put her weight on her foot with only a twinge. “A storm in a teacup,” she said crossly to the maid, who prepared her bath. She felt as if she had an itch she couldn’t scratch. Lord Debnam made her heart race. She had wanted him to kiss her, not leave her as if he couldn’t stand to stay with her another minute. Had he changed his mind about her? She was not what he wanted? That hurt more than her ankle.
“His lordship carried you all the way from the wood, milady? How romantic.”
“It wasn’t, Penny. My ankle throbbed. But it was kind of him.” Laura wondered what the downstairs staff said about her. She supposed her ears should burn, but the sting of gossip didn’t hurt so much now. She’d gone through the misery of how it would be ever since she’d agreed to come here.
Penny sighed as she laid out the soap and towels. “It wouldn’t have bothered him, carrying you like he did. His lordship is big and strong. Handsome too, isn’t he, milady?”
“I suppose he is, Penny. Have you ever heard any gossip about his lordship’s parents? I’m curious, but I don’t like to ask him.”
Penny turned from pouring fragrant bath oil into the water. She nodded gravely. “It’s said his father went mad,” she said in a dramatic whisper while she helped remove Laura’s robe. “And he suffered strange spells—saw visions, too, they say.”
Startled, Laura nearly slipped as she climbed into the hip bath, the tenderness in her ankle reminding her to be careful. “The former earl saw visions?”
“So it’s said. But that’s not the worst of it. He shot and killed the countess, Lady Debnam, and then shot himself in the head. His lordship was only a child when orphaned.”
Shocked, Laura’s knees trembled as she sank into the warm water. How dreadful for Lord Debnam. But it made his attitude to marriage perfectly understandable. Might he fear he too would suffer his father’s sickness? After viewing the calm, clever face of the former earl in the portrait, she struggled to believe him to be the madman Penny had described.
But what else would cause Lord Debnam’s father to become so violent? Surely, he cared about his son?
She smoothed the washcloth over her shoulders. “Did they discover the reason he did such a terrible thing?” she asked the maid.
