Page 36 of Gambling with the Earl
“Oh.” With one short exclamation, she communicated all her surprise.
“Help me up,” he ordered.
“Are you hurt?” She was beside him in an instant, bringing with her a faint and surprising scent of lavender. His eyes opened to rest upon an unexpected expanse of creamy flesh. Had she come to his aid before she had a chance to finish dressing?
“I’m not,” he lied, hating to be so enfeebled. “But I cannot stand without assistance. These trunks are in my way.”
She turned her attention to the wooden chests and leaned down to try and shunt one away from him, delivering him a wondrous view of the sloping rise of her bosom. His throat dried up and his heart beat hollowly against his ribs, but he couldn’t force himself to tear his gaze away.
She was an innocent. She knew not how she was affecting him.
“It’s too heavy,” she panted. “I can’t move it.”
“No matter.” He closed his eyes, although not through pain. “If you can allow me to put my weight against you, I will be able to stand.”
Would she bear his weight? She was but a slender young girl.
But Kitty nodded without a second thought and bent beside him, placing her scarcely concealed breasts inches away from his face. “Put your arm around my shoulder,” she instructed.
Were it not for the searing pain in his side, Guy would have ordered her from the room. Her dishevelled presence threatened to usurp the thin veil of self-control he had managed to assert last night in the solar. It took an iron will to clamp down on his unworthy thoughts, but the nagging ache he felt all across his body claimed precedence over his baser desires, and when Kitty levelled herself against him to better distribute his weight, all he could think of was the need to protect his wound.
“You’re bleeding,” she exclaimed, as they staggered together towards his bed.
He gritted his teeth. His worst fears were realised. “I will be better once I am laying down.”
She manoeuvred him onto the bed and then lifted his legs onto the covers. He opened his mouth to stop her and then closed it again. He may hate to admit it, but right now he needed her help.
“Let me see.” Without waiting for permission, she leaned over him and lifted his shirt, biting her lip in concern when she saw his angry, snaking wound.
A wound not seen by anyone but himself, the doctor and Thomas.
Guy fixed his eyes on the faded tapestry hanging above his bed. Now that Kitty had helped him into bed and seen the extent of his injuries, there was nothing to be gained by sending her away.
“How bad is it?” He forced out the question.
Her gaze was focussed on his bare chest, and he could not read her expression. “I need to see more.” Again, without asking for his leave, Kitty unbuttoned his shirt with slim, dextrous fingers and then pulled it to one side. He was naked from the waist up, exposed to her gaze.
He exhaled sharply. Despite his pain and her innocence, he was unable to ignore the frisson he felt.
She swallowed, and he wondered if she too sensed the magnetic pull between them. Her fingers dropped to his chest, and he flinched at her featherlight touch, torn between pleasure and agony.
“It is not as bad as I feared, though I must bathe away the blood.” Her voice was calm and practical, shaming him for his wandering thoughts.
“There is water in the basin,” he said.
He felt her absence when she stood to fetch the basin and relaxed when she returned. Her touch was soft and welcome, even though the water was cold. She bathed his wound with the tender care of an experienced nurse, and he remembered how she had told him about tending to another, long ago.
His flash of envy for the unknown man was shockingly strong.
“That’s better,” she said at last.
He opened his eyes to find her perched above him. She sat on the side of his bed, yet had angled her body towards him to better reach his left side. Her chest rose and fell with her breathing. Breathing that was surely faster than usual? Breathing that matched his own.
Her bodice was unbuttoned, not indecently so, but enough for the call of her exposed flesh to be impossible to ignore. His eyes were drawn relentlessly towards the soft swell of her breasts. At first, he tried to avert his gaze, but when Kitty stayed still and silent, he allowed himself to glance once more at the creamy softness of her neck.
How he longed to reach up and trace a hand over the hollow of her clavicle.
Wanton thoughts. But the maid didn’t attempt to cover herself, despite the intensity of his admiration. She must be aware of it, for a red flush had swamped her usually pale cheeks.
