Page 53 of If the Slipper Fits
He cleared his throat. “As to that, last I saw him, he was abed getting his wound tended. I doubt he’s of a mind to travel, my lady. I expect to see him any minute.”
The dowager duchess eyed him almost pityingly. “I rather meant if he had half a brain he’d remove himself from your presence lest your next foible permanently maim him.”
Harrison’s friends fell out laughing.
When the raucous laughter died down, Harrison offered, with only a hint of underlying sulk, to fetch them both champagne.
“I should love one,” Lady Wentworth replied. “However Mrs. Jones must attend a small errand for me.”
Anna met the older woman’s eyes. The kindness she read there left no room for doubt. Lady Wentworth somehow knew she had to go to him.
Seconds later she pushed through the crowded parlor, uncaring of whether Lord Hardasher spotted her or whose dress she trod upon or whether anyone might remark over her haste. None of that mattered now.
***
Careful not to press too hard, Caden held the wrapped ice to his brow and mentally groused. How in hell had it happened that aiding Harrison had ended with him bleeding andnotenjoying pre-dinner cocktails, while the younger man, fully clothed thanks to Caden, had probably just finished his second aperitif?
Harrison was a bloody hazard, that’s how. Next time Randall tried to pawn his younger brother off on Caden, he’d tell him to stuff it.
He wanted to get up from this bed. Wanted to don a fresh shirt, head downstairs, and find Anna. Not that he wanted her to see him looking like someone’s punching bag.
Last he glimpsed himself in the mirror, the left side of his forehead had a swollen gash and a blossoming blueish green tinge. More to the point, every time he sat upright and removed the pressure from his latest head wound a-la-Harrison, the bleeding recommenced.
Harrison had suggested sending for a doctor to staunch the blood flow. Said he’d seen a wound of this sort before—caused it no doubt—and in his opinion Caden needed stitches.
Caden roared at him to remove himself from his chamber, and Harrison complied in swift order. Had he ever been more frustrated in his life?
What of Anna? Where was she at this moment? Probably sipping champagne, grateful for the chance to enjoy a respite from his constant attentions.
He closed his eyes, re-positioned the dripping ice pack, and forced himself to lie still. In another few minutes, the bleeding would stop. Then he could decide if he wanted to bother joining the party.
Maybe this was for the best. Maybe Harrison had actually done him a favor. The whole notion of speaking to Anna about Hardasher now seemed foolish and desperate. As for his plan to wow her with his devastating good looks? Pathetic, not to mention impossible now.
A rapid tapping sounded at his antechamber door. A chamber maid with a fresh towel and more ice, perhaps? Surprising. When he’d bellowed at Harrison earlier, he’d frightened-away the maid and footman who’d come to help as well.
He opened his mouth to tell whomever it was to go away, then closed it when he heard the interior door open and shut. He knew better than to abuse the help simply because he had the misfortune to travel with Randall’s accident-prone brother.
Soft footfalls padded over the thick carpet. Skirts swished. A hint of something elegant and delectable teased his nostrils. His stomach tightened into a hot fist before his mind fully registered who had entered the room.
Anna, here? Why, precisely? Pride or curiosity or anger, he couldn’t say which, bade him not move a muscle.
Her footfalls ceased halfway to the bed. A long minute passed. Caden’s heart thudded so hard against his ribs, he wondered she didn’t notice and outright accuse him of lying in wait.
After several interminable seconds, she resumed moving, her stride brisk and determined.
She reached his bedside. He knew because her signature scent, tuberose, cedar, and everything feminine, danced in and out of the air he breathed, making his mouth water.
He inhaled, long and deep. Hehadto. No woman had ever smelled so tantalizingly good. His entire body screamed for him to reach for her, drag her into him, and kiss her senseless. His lower region stirred to life as if he had.
At least his blood flow had found an alternate direction.
She cleared her throat, then spoke in a soft voice. “Caden? I don’t wish to startle you. It’s Anna.”
He nearly cracked a grin. As if she needed to give him her name.
She cupped his cheek on the non-injured side of his face with gloveless, cool silken fingers. “Cade, it’s Glory.”
His insides fisted at the sweet surrender. She’d used not only his Christian name, but her own.
