Page 67 of The Cornish Inheritance

“That’s better now,” she said. “All clean. But if I were you, tonight I’d sleep on your side, not your back. That bump has got to hurt.”

“It does.”

“I’ll just dab on some of the ointment Mrs. Teague sent up. I don’t know what’s in it, but it smells nice.”

Nat sat mute under her ministrations, enjoying the feel of her cool fingers in his hair and not wanting her to have to stop.

However, all too soon she finished. “Now, let me see your shoulder.”

“What? It’s fine. No need.”

She came round to stand in front of him. “Nonsense. Let me have a look. I’m sure I can fashion you a better sling than this as well. And let’s give you the painkiller.”

The painkiller had come in a little bottle. She uncapped it and took a sniff, then gave a huff. “I might have guessed. Laudanum. It’ll have to do and will help you sleep as well. Just a small dose and I’ll take it away with me in case you feel the need to augment.”

“I’m not a child who can’t be trusted.”

“I know you’re not. But laudanum can be quite dangerous.” She automatically thought of Yves. “Take this.” She held out the small cup to him and he swallowed it down.

He gave a snort and a wince. “No chance of me overdosing on that. It tastes foul.”

“Probably a good thing, although I do believe some people become addicted to it, so they must be able to get over the taste. At least, so I’ve been told. A substance to be avoided, in my opinion.”

He looked up at her as she busied herself constructing a better sling out of the spare cloths Dickon had brought. How practical she was. And how beautiful. Why had he not noticed this before? She had about her an inner beauty that transcended mere good looks in other women. Her calm demeanor, her wide, dark eyes, the curve of her pale cheek, that delicate nose. How had he ever thought her plain? The urge to take her in his arms returned, despite his pounding head and aching shoulder. Well, take her in one arm at least. He felt his mouth curve into an involuntary smile.

“I didn’t know it could work so quickly,” she said.

“It isn’t. I was smiling for another reason.”

She didn’t ask him why. Maybe she suspected. Instead, she moved to the window and closed the heavy curtains. “I think you should lie down and get some rest. Hopefully the laudanum will help ease the pain. I have to go and rescue Sir Hugh from Hetty and Yves. They are my charges, after all. Not you.”

Was there a wistful note in her voice?

He rose from his chair and went over to the bed. “Could you send Dickon up to help me with my boots?”

She turned from the window. “Nonsense. I can do that for you.”

Oh, the longing to let her do so. And more. He hadn’t felt like this about a woman in… how long? Julia had been gone six years. Six long years. He felt impotent to resist, as, without waiting for an answer, she approached him, a determined look in her eyes.

“Sit down then. I can’t pull them off if you’re standing up, can I?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his heart hammering much faster than it should have been. It was only boots, after all. He was getting carried away by an action such as the soldier who served him in the army might have done, or a valet, if he had one. Just boots. He had to get a hold of himself.

She seized one of his boots. They were a snug fit and she had to pull hard, and he had only his good arm to balance himself on the bed. It necessitated bracing his other foot hard on the floor.

The boot slid off into her hands and she laughed. “I used to sometimes pull my father’s boots off for him, so he could toast his toes in front of the fire of an evening.”

“Thank you.”

She set about the other boot which soon joined the first, but didn’t leave. Was she intending to tuck him up in bed? She was a governess, not a nursemaid… but… No. This was ridiculous. “And thank you for the second boot. I shall be fine now. You’d best get off to Hetty and Yves. They might themselves need rescuing from my grandfather.”

“You’re sure you’ll be all right? Would you like me to look in on you later?”

Damn it. He was blushing. Thank goodness the closed curtains hid it. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to bother yourself.”

She shook her head. “It’s no bother. I’ll bring you a light supper from the kitchens when I come.” And with a smile, she was gone.

Nat sat for a while on the edge of the bed, turning his thoughts over and finding they were just as jumbled as when he started. It must be the knock on the head. Or the laudanum dose on top of Casworan’s brandy. That was it. He’d best try and sleep it off. He’d be more sensible after a sleep.