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He turned toward her, and Beatrice gasped. “Oh, my God!” She flew off the bed and reached Adam in record time. She gently touched his bruised jaw and cheek. “What is wrong with your face?”

“Is it truly that bad?” He grinned, or as much as he could grin with a cut at the corner of his lip.

It wasn’t the same cut he’d received during the bar fight a week ago. That one had healed, and this new one looked fresh and a lot uglier than the one before.

“You have cuts and bruises all over your face!” She gently caressed the side of his mouth, running her finger over the raw bruise but avoiding the cut, and furrowed her brows. Adam caught his breath and stood still, letting her inspect him as much as she wanted.

“I’ll go get some salve.” She turned away so sharply, Adam almost toppled over. She paused, a hand to his chest, his rapid heartbeat pounding against her palm.

He briefly put his hand on hers, then quickly let it drop. “There’s no need. It’ll heal.”

Beatrice didn’t even think of entertaining such a ludicrous idea. “What happened to you?” she asked, as she rushed to her vanity and rummaged through the little jars. “Did you start another brawl?”

Adam let out a chuckle. “Yes. With my brother.”

She raised her head sharply. “Whatever for?”

“For leaving you at the altar… so to speak.” There was laughter in his voice.

She raised her eyes heavenward, then resumed looking through her jars. “Be serious.”

“I am serious. Well, not truly. But since I couldn’t follow Lansdowne and bludgeon his face in, I settled for the next best thing.”

“Your brother is the next best thing?” Beatrice picked up the jar with a healing salve, then took his arm and led him toward her bed. He perched on the edge without protest and let her apply the salve on his cuts.

“It smells… nice,” he said, sounding surprised. “And it feels nice. Perhaps it is going to help.”

“You are surprised. Did you think I would lie to you?”

He shrugged, his gaze rather heavily concentrated on her face. She tried for a nervous chuckle, although she was not in a laughing mood. His face was so close to hers that if she leaned in an inch or two, she would bring them nose to nose… Mouth to mouth. “There. All done.”

“Are you certain?” His voice was deeper than usual.

Beatrice cleared her throat. “You should heal a lot faster now.” She walked away, replacing her jar on the vanity, and Adam exhaled loudly.

“Will you tell me what your fight was about?” Beatrice turned toward him and leaned her hip on the side of her vanity table.

Adam shrugged. “We were sparring. Clears one’s head.”

“Why would you ever want to clear your head? I prefer my head filled with thoughts and ideas.”

Adam smiled. “I noticed.”

It wasn’t a condescending smile; it was quite warm and gentle, and yet, Beatrice felt the need to defend herself. “I know that you dislike that part about me, but—”

“I don’t dislike it,” he said roughly, a frown marring his lovely—if injured—face.

“You don’t?” She looked down at her fidgeting hands. “Because you were quite adamant about my ideas being immature and annoying.”

“I never said that,” he insisted.

“Perhaps not exactly in those words, but the message was clear.”

Adam grimaced. “I apologize if my words have made you feel this way. I should have chosen them more wisely. Perhaps, I have been inconsiderate and unnecessarily harsh. But only because your actions were injudicious and hasty. The truth is…” He let out a deep sigh, his fingers flexing against her coverlet. “I have never thought you either immature or annoying. Innocent, perhaps. Naive? Certainly.”

“Thank you,” Beatrice said dryly.

“But those are not bad things to be.” He shook his head with a chuckle. “Trust me. You have your whole life ahead of you to become worldly and jaded, and I rather hope you never shall.”