Page 7 of The Lady’s Sweet Revenge

“Uncle?” Reese repeated the word she’d whispered as she’d fallen asleep. Was she asking him to find her uncle, or was her uncle the reason she wasn’t safe?

Either way he wouldn’t go looking for anyone who knew her since he had no clue where to even start. She hadn’t lost her memories, but she’d taken an impressive knock to the head. It had taken seven stitches for Mrs. Garrison to close the wound Reese hadn’t seen right away because of the darkness of her hair.

He’d asked his maids to clean her up and put her in a clean, dry gown before settling her in the bed. Unfortunately, the women weren’t able to move her around very easily in her state. He’d been called upon to help lift her from the tub and place her in the bed in one of the castle’s many guest rooms. He’d done his best not to look, but it was impossible not to catch a glimpse of her in his arms as he’d carried her.

And maybe it had been harder than it should have been not to look, but he was a man after all, and she was bonny. And he had managed to get by without gawking at her. Surely that was what was important.

He sat in the chair next to her bed reading the latest Theodore Stonecliff novel while Belle laid against the woman on the bed. He’d shooed the dog away a few times but every time he left the room he came back to find her there and had eventually given up.

At some point, he’d taken to reading the story out loud. Either for the woman, or for the dog, he wasn’t entirely sure. When he glanced up he found her staring at him with those moss green eyes. Her cheeks were now flushed instead of pale and that simple change had made her even more beautiful.

Clearing his throat, he pushed a smile to his lips.

“Are ye feeling any better? Mrs. Garrison managed to get some willow bark tea in your stomach. She said it should help with the pain.”

“I feel somewhat improved. My head is not pounding as if my brain will beat itself out of my skull.”

He smiled at her jest as she reached up. He moved closer to stop her hand from touching the wound.

“Be careful. You had a nasty gash on your head. Mrs. Garrison saw to stitching it.”

She looked down at herself, likely noticing the much-too-large dressing gown she was wearing. “Please tell me Mrs. Garrison also helped to bathe and dress me?”

“Aye. She did.” It was true enough even if he’d left out the part where he’d assisted. That would be for another time when she was much better.

“You said I’m at Slains Castle. That’s in?”

“Scotland. Barely. The castle sits on a cliff at the edge of the North Sea. A few hours east of Inverness. Near Aberdeenshire.”

“I’ve come so far…” she whispered. “I must go. Right away.” She moved to get out of bed and gasped either from the pain in her head or that of the badly swollen ankle Mrs. Garrison had noted when she’d bathed the lass.

With a groan of irritation she fell back on the bed.

“I’m sorry, but you’re not fit for travel to the next room, let alone any great distance. Where did you say you were from?” he asked, hoping she would give him the smallest clue as to who she was.

“I was in London for the Season. I was riding in Hyde Park when…” She shook her head.

“Miss—or is it missus, or lady?”

“Harlow,” she answered, but avoided answering the question he’d asked so he might know her marital status or rank.

“You wish me to call you by your Christian name?” He tried again to learn more about who she was. He’d acquired many interrogation techniques during his time as an agent, but she’d not fallen for any of them yet.

“I imagine it’s the least of the many unacceptable things that has happened since I was pulled off my horse in London. For I have not yet met Mrs. Garrison, but my guess is she is not so sturdy as to lift a full-grown woman from a bath into a bed.” She raised her brow and Reese felt his face heat under her critical gaze. She was a canny lass.

“Very well, Miss Harlow. I planned to apologize for the impropriety when you were feeling more the thing.”

“So courteous of you,” she said with another roll of her eyes. For someone with a head injury she was surely in possession of the movement of her eyes.

“If you were riding in Hyde Park, however did you come to be on the beach so far north in only your shift?”

Her eyes glistened and she wiped at them quickly as if offended by her own body’s functions.

“Are you trustworthy, Lord Breckenridge? I only remember my brothers telling me you were unfit for marriage, but not much else. I must know if your finances are in decline.” She looked about the room as if the furniture and the wallpapering might give her some notion as to whether he was wealthy or destitute.

Unfortunately, the castle did not boast the greatest furnishings since his mother didn’t bother to update a place she’d promised never to return to. He didn’t need the latest fashions when he was in the country and had not updated them either.

“Why do you ask?”