Damn, he wished the invitation she was offering him was a different one entirely. But he nodded, because his head was aching and because he needed the blasted stitches gone.
And he needed to leave this infernal room.
Chapter 4
In the sanctity of her work room, Caro exhaled a deep, shaking sigh of relief. One day had passed since Gavin had confronted her with his need to flee her chamber and face her brothers. But whilst she had removed his stitches and applied an unguent to his still-healing wound, she had persuaded him to wait another day. The salve she had applied to his wound had not been the same as what she had spilled all over the floor the day before, but it had sufficed.
Her guilt, however…
That was gnawing at her steadily, like an attic mouse chewing up everything it could find.
She had attempted to speak with Jasper this morning before breakfast to persuade him that Gavin needed to emerge from the room and at least be permitted to go about the private quarters of The Sinner’s Palace. However, her brother had been in bed.
The muffled female giggles traveling to Caro through his chamber door—belonging to no less than two different women, unless she was mistaken—had proven a strong deterrent. As had her brother’s half-hearted urging to return in three hours.
Jasper had once fancied himself smitten with Genevieve Winter, the sole female in the Winter family. But as the Winters were sworn enemies—and the greatest competition—to the Suttons, his attempts at wooing had not gone well. Ever since Genevieve Winter had refused his suit, Jasper had been bedding every lightskirt in the East End, or so it seemed.
There was nothing for her to do this morning save spend the next few hours of solitude working on her medical stores. Unguents and tonics were always in need. And as Caro’s hands went to work, she tried to turn her mind away from thoughts of the handsome stranger who didn’t know his name. The man she had come to know and care for during his impromptu stay at The Sinner’s Palace.
She was fortunate enough to have her small garden of herbs which she could tend and harvest to aid in her endeavors. Fortunate she had this room, where she was free to work on the experiments most important to her. Fortunate for the shelf of highly prized—and dear—books stacked on the corner of her work table.
There was much to concern herself with outside of the troubling matter of Gavin Winter. Beyond his vibrant-green eyes and dark, tousled hair, his towering height, decadent muscles, handsome face, and slashing cheekbones and jaw. Beyond that beautiful mouth, those big hands that touched her with such tenderness. Beyond the confusion in his eyes, the desperation edging his deep voice.
No. You must not think of him, Caro. There is naught you can do for now. Concentrate on your work, girl.
She forced herself to tamp down the longing rising within her, telling herself it was foolishness. Perhaps something wrought by the length of time she had been tending to Gavin, which was longer than she had ever nursed another. Moreover, he was not one of her brothers, nor one of the guards she considered in the same vein.
She turned her attention to her remaining stores, which were growing thin. Her ability to grow her own herbs only took her so far. She inevitably needed to replenish them and other items at the apothecary. Taking up her quill, she set her pen to the paper awaiting her on her table and began to make a list of supplies she would need to purchase soon.
Purslain for coughs.
Chamomile oil to relieve swelling and other pains.
Ointment of yarrow for wounds.
Lavender and oil of spike.
Horehound, fennel, asparagus.
“Caro.”
The voice, deep and familiar, and so very unexpected, made her shriek and upend her inkwell.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
As she frantically took up one of her laundered rags and attempted to blot up the stain growing over her list, he was suddenly nearer than ever. His heat and strength burned into her back as his massive hand covered hers.
“Allow me to clean this mess. ’Tis of my own making.”
She was frozen. Frozen with a combination of awareness at his nearness, his hand atop hers, his touch making her weak. And too, the knowledge that he had emerged from her room. That he had wandered about The Sinner’s Palace on his own, where he could have been recognized. That Jasper would be furious when he discovered what had happened.
To the devil with Jasper.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I will clean it. I am at fault for my clumsiness. You needn’t fret.”
“I am sorry for giving you a fright.” His tone was wry, his voice in her ear, so close that his hot breath skimmed over her flesh, sending a shiver of pure need down her spine.
She turned her head, meeting his gaze. “You are meant to be resting, sir. Abed.”
