Page 9 of Holly and the Viscount
“But what about the tree?” Theo glanced at the fallen giant.
“The devil take the tree. It can rot there, for all I care. Let’s get you to the cart.”
With Ash on one side and the remaining footman on the other, Theo managed to get to the waiting cart. He was shaking and sweaty by the time they boosted him into the bed. Ash made a makeshift splint for Theo’s ankle out of a sturdy piece of stick, lashing it onto Theo’s leg with torn strips from the bottom of his shirt.
“Come back for the tree,” Theo tried to tell the cartman as the vehicle lurched into motion, though he wasn’t sure the fellow heard him.
Then it was flashes of pain and the sky overhead, pale blue blurring to white.
CHAPTER 5
Holly had been surprised, and not pleasantly, when her brother returned from Knavesmire with the injured Lord Thornton. She’d thought he would be long gone by that afternoon, and herself safe from his questions, but unfortunately that had proved not to be the case. At least he was confined to his bed. It should be simple enough for her to avoid him until he was recovered and on his way.
Late that night, a thump outside her door brought her from a fitful doze to full wakefulness. Her bedroom was dark, the coals a faint, ash-covered red glow on the hearth. For a heartbeat, she tried to convince herself that whatever she’d heard was simply the normal creaks and settling of Hartley House in the winter.
Then a muffled moan of pain came from the hallway, and she couldn’t deny that someone was outside her door. One of the maids, perhaps, suffering a sudden fit? Though it was inordinately late for any of the servants to be about.
Whoever it was, she must investigate. She struck a flame from the tinderbox on her night stand, lighting the candle in its pewter holder. By the flickering flame, she slipped on her silk wrapper, and went to open her door.
“Hello?” she called softly, lifting her candle and peering into the shadows of the hall.
It appeared to be empty, and she was about to turn away when movement near the floor caught her eye. She glanced down, horrified to see Viscount Thornton slumped against the wainscoting. His dark hair was disheveled above the sheen of perspiration on his forehead, and his eyes were closed. For a horrible moment she thought he might have expired right there in the hallway, until she saw his chest rising and falling with his shallow breaths.
“Lord Thornton!” She knelt beside him, setting the candle down, and took him by the shoulder. His skin was feverishly hot beneath the long muslin nightshirt she belatedly realized was all he was wearing—but despite the embarrassment flooding through her at the sight of his strongly muscled calves and bare feet, this was no time for missish propriety. “Wake up, sir!”
He half-opened his eyes and squinted at her. “Lady Holly. Are you a wagering woman?”
Clearly the man was delirious, either from pain, or the laudanum the doctor had administered, or both.
“Whatever are you doing out of bed?” she asked. “We must return you to your room at once.”
“The tree,” he said with a distracted air. “Viola will have my head. Must go to Dovington, immediately.”
“The only thing you must doimmediatelyis go back to bed. Stay here. I’ll ring for help.”
“Wait.” He caught her arms and stared intently into her eyes. “The tree. You must promise.”
“Really, Lord Thornton, now is not the time?—”
“Please.” He pulled her so close their faces were nearly touching.
“For heaven’s sake, sir, you are not in your right mind.”
“But…you’re beautiful,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice.
Then, before she could even fathom what was happening, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers. Startled heat flashed through her, as though the fever had leaped from his body to hers during that brief contact.
Then he did it again, pressing his mouth firmly upon hers. His lips were unexpectedly soft, and she leaned forward slightly, inhaling. It was like being plunged into a glass of champagne, her sense sparkling and fizzing?—
She pulled back with a jolt. Whatever was she doing? They could not be discovered in such a compromising position! No matter how her pulse raced or her lips tingled from his kiss.
“Wait,” he said, reaching for her as she rose.
“Nothing happened here, sir,” she said forcefully, scooping up her candle with trembling fingers. “Except that you collapsed in the hallway, and I just now discovered you.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, praying he was so addled he would believe her. Then she whisked back into her room and yanked on the bell pull for her maid—as she should have done the moment she saw Lord Thornton in the hall. That, and roust her brother, which she intended to do forthwith.
On her way out of her room, she grabbed the lap robe draped over the armchair beside her hearth. At least she could tuck it about the viscount—for modesty as well as warmth.
