Page 45 of Lady Controversial
She had only closed her eyes for a moment or two, absolutely no longer than that, but someone shaking her shoulder roused her from her slumbers. She wanted to protest. For once she wanted to put her own interests ahead of Jane’s but, of course, her sister was having none of it.
‘Go away, Jane,’ she said, her words muffled by the comfort of her pillow. She most emphatically did not want to waken from her fantasy in which Ellery was carrying her effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing at all. If she was even half-conscious then she was well aware that her fierce sense of independence would balk at the fantasy in question, obliging her to admit that she was actually enjoying it.
‘Wake up, Isolda.’
It wasn’t Jane’s voice. Indeed it sounded remarkably like Ellery’s deep rumble. Goodness, this fantasy was remarkably lifelike, she thought, as she smiled and snuggled under the covers, willing the interlude to continue indefinitely.
‘Isolda, you cannot go to sleep.’
‘Tired,’ she muttered. ‘So tired. Leave me alone.’
But the shaking continued, becoming more insistent, and she was eventually obliged to open her eyes, aware that whoever was attempting to rouse her would not give up.
It had to be Jane. No one else would be so inconsiderate.
Isolda pushed herself into a sitting position and blinked the sleep from her eyes, determined to give her sister a long overdue trimming for her selfishness. The words stalled on her tongue when she found herself staring directly into Ellery’s dark, concerned eyes.
‘You!’ she cried, pointing an accusatory finger at his chest.
He was sitting beside her on some sort of bed. She had no clear idea how she had got there—vague recollections of him carrying her must surely be little more than a figment of her overactive imagination—and only a hazy memory of the fight. She had been injured. Her arm throbbed a painful reminder of that fact, and she glanced down to assess the damage only to see that it was heavily bandaged.
‘What on earth…’
She tried to push the covers aside but Ellery’s firm hand on her shoulder prevented her from moving.
‘You were hurt and I needed to get you out of there.’ He paused. ‘You remember where you were, and why?’
‘Of course I do,’ she cried crossly. ‘I am not a simpleton.’
‘Your behaviour begs me to differ. What in the name of Hades did you think you were doing?’
‘I do not answer to you, and your actions have robbed me of my winnings.’ She tossed her head indignantly but spoiled the gesture by wincing when a sharp pain shot through her head.
‘You’re entirely welcome,’ he said, sounding amused rather than offended by her fit of pique. ‘You are also still concussed following your accident yesterday. The doctor has been, and he confirmed what I already suspected.’
She huffed, careful not to move her head this time, unwilling to admit that he was probably right. It would explain her dull reactions that evening, her peculiar thoughts and so much more besides. ‘What doctor?’ she asked.
‘The one who just came and stitched up your injury.’
Isolda glanced down at her bandaged arm once again. ‘He can’t have done…I would have felt something.’
‘You were unconscious. We thought it better to leave you that way until he had done his work.’
‘Why am I here?’ She paused, thinking she ought to thank him but unable to find the words. ‘And where is here?’
‘You’re in a cottage on my estate where you will be perfectly safe. No one knows where you are.’
‘You had no right to…’ She scowled at him. That gesture hurt too. ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are impossibly domineering.’
He chuckled. ‘Not to my recollection.’
‘Mr Barker, he will want to…’ Want to what? Something important had slipped from her memory. Again. Should she still be concussed all this time on? It was most inconvenient, not to say worrying.
‘Why do you do it?’ he asked softly, the anger she recalled from earlier replaced with a deep concern that moved her vulnerable heart.
She didn’t pretend not to understand him. What would be the point? ‘Why do you think?’ she asked acerbically.
‘Oh, Isolda!’ He grasped her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze before turning it over and gently kissing the inside of her wrist. She could hear wind howling around the chimney and rain pattering against the window glass. It seemed insignificant. All she knew was that she felt safe, warm and protected in ways she had forgotten could be possible. Had she ever known they were, she wondered, thinking it as well not to get accustomed to leaning on anyone. Especially not someone as influential as the earl, who would likely change his allegiances on a whim, as was the wont of great men the world over. ‘You could have been killed, or set upon by that mob who were desperate to unmask you.’
