She arrived in Mr. Lowell’s room twenty minutes later to find the man in question propped up against a pile of pillows and with theMayfair Chroniclein his lap. He didn’t notice her right away, his concentration fixed on whatever it was he was reading, which allowed her a moment to study him discreetly.
When she’d last seen him, he’d been hovering between sleep and wakefulness. She’d checked to see if he had a fever and he’d stared at her for a long moment before slipping back into unconsciousness. Now, his eyes were focused with great intensity on what he was reading while a stray lock of black hair fell carelessly across his brow. It afforded him with a touch of untidiness that she found oddly charming and perhaps even a little attractive. If she was being completely honest. Until she reminded herself of the sort of man he was and instantly warned herself not to fall under his spell.
So she stiffened her spine and strode forward with purpose. He looked up and their eyes met. Viola’s heart stuttered and her belly turned over without any warning.
“Good morning, Mr. Lowell,” she forced herself to say. He was only a man. And she’d dealt with plenty of those in the past. Though none quite as handsome as this fine specimen.
Stop it!
Somehow she managed to offer a smile and remain upright. She made herself meet his gaze, her breath catching slightly the moment she did in response to the interest she saw there. Unnerved yet determined to avoid showing weakness, she concentrated on doing her job by asking, “How are you feeling today?”
“Rather well, now that you are here,” he murmured. His voice was like silk slipping over her skin.
Oh, he was good.Too good. She clasped her hands together and squared her shoulders, intent on resisting his charm. Which became infinitely easier when he quirked an eyebrow and added, in the most seductive tone she’d ever heard, “Emily.”
Viola felt her lips twitch at first. And then she laughed. “Emily?” She laughed a bit more while he began frowning. And then a thought struck her and she turned immediately serious. They were in a hospital, after all, and he was looking very confused. So she went to the side of the bed, bowed over his head and stared down into his right eye while prying it slightly more open with her fingers. “Do you know if you hit your head when you were shot?”
“No.” He allowed her to look in his left eye as well. “Why?”
She leaned back. His pupils appeared to be responding normally. “Because you think I’m Emily and the two of us look nothing alike.”
He shifted a little higher against his pillows while she proceeded to pour him a glass of water. “That’s odd. When I asked my brother about you and gave a description, he told me your name was Emily.”
Setting the glass to his lips, Viola helped him drink. “Well, I cannot imagine what you told him, but I am Viola. Viola Cartwright, to be exact.” She rarely gave her title, preferring to avoid unnecessary attention in favor of being treated like the rest of her staff.
A charming smile brightened his features. “Then your name is even lovelier than I initially thought.”
A surge of warmth swept through her, pricking her skin. Disliking the effect he was having on her and feeling unmoored by the rare attempt at flattery, she said nothing and went to disinfect her hands. “I need to take a look at your wound, Mr. Lowell.”
“You may call me Henry, if you like.”
Her stomach bounced in a most uncomfortable way. “I’d rather not.”
“But if I am to call you Viola, then—”
“You are a patient, Mr. Lowell, and therefore free to address all the nurses by their given names. Just as you would address a maid.” Putting up barriers between them now was both vital and wise. Especially if she was to resist him.
“That hardly seems fair.” He was practically pouting now, and God help her if the expression didn’t make him look totally adorable.
“These are the hospital rules,” she said, deliberately turning away so he wouldn’t see her smile. She made sure to compose herself completely before turning back to face him. “If our inequality disturbs you, you are free to call me Mrs. Cartwright.” There. She’d effectively made herself quite unavailable.
His smile fell a little. “A pity when your given name is so very pretty.”
She arched a brow. “I realize I’ve put you in something of a bind, for which I do apologize.”
He was the one to laugh this time. “Why, Mrs. Cartwright. Are you always this delightful?
“Only where you are concerned, it would seem,” Viola muttered, and then immediately chastised herself for allowing him to engage her. Amusement sparkled in his dark brown eyes, stirring her senses in ways to which she’d thought herself immune.
Giving herself a mental shake, Viola removed Mr. Lowell’s newspaper from the bed, pushed down his sheet and began tackling his shirt. It was what she did, what she’d done more times than she could count, and yet for the first time ever, she felt her fingers tremble as she fumbled with the fabric.
Pull yourself together, she chided herself. But then her fingers made contact with his skin and he sucked in a breath. Without thinking, she raised her gaze to his and immediately regretted doing so. Because he was watching her closely and with the sort of look...
Her pulse beat faster and her mouth went instantly dry. She forced her attention back to her work, clinging to the methodical familiarity it offered.
When she’d finally changed his compress and bandaged the wound again, she took a step back and breathed a sigh of relief. As she reached for the newspaper with the intention of returning it to her patient, her eye caught the section he’d been reading, which prompted her to pause.
She shook her head and looked at him in amazement. “You like the puzzles?” It didn’t seem to square with his rakish reputation.
