A Mistress For Major Bartlett. Annie Burrows
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Название: A Mistress For Major Bartlett
Автор: Annie Burrows
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Сказки
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781474005975
isbn:
His mouth tightened fractionally, as if there was no of course about promises. But then in his world there probably wasn’t. A man of his type probably made dozens of promises he had no intention of keeping. And she’d do well to remember it.
‘I am in your hands, then.’
‘Yes.’
He sighed and closed his eyes. ‘Thank God,’ he mumbled. And promptly fell asleep, as though a great weight had rolled off his shoulders.
He trusted her.
Just as those Rogues had trusted her.
Before she had a chance to let it go to her head, she reminded herself that anyone would be preferable to that doctor, who seemed to view the injured as interesting cases rather than people with feelings.
Though Tom was making her feel as if it were more than that, by the way he hadn’t let go of her hand, even though he’d fallen asleep. As though he really, really needed her.
It would wear off, once he recovered, and got to know her better, of course. Though for now, why shouldn’t she bask in his apparent need? It felt good. Since there was nobody here to tell her how she ought to behave, and think, and feel, she could make up her own mind.
She decided that even though he was a rake, whose mere glance could send heated shivers down a woman’s spine, there was no harm in just sitting holding his hand while he was asleep. Besides, she was so tired. All she wanted to do was just sit and rest for a while.
So she sat there, her hand in his, half-drowsing, until a knock on the door heralding the arrival of Madame le Brun, with a tray of food, jolted her awake.
Sarah let go of his hand to stretch and yawn as Madame placed the tray none too gently on the bedside table.
‘That smells good,’ croaked Tom. ‘What is it?’
Sarah glanced at the contents of the tray. ‘Some broth and some bread. And wine.’
‘Nectar.’ He sighed.
‘Ah! He is awake,’ said Madame, ‘and wanting his dinner.’
‘That is a good sign, isn’t it? It must mean he is getting well.’
‘Yes. But he is a strong one, that one,’ said Madame, casting her eye over his naked torso with what looked like feminine appreciation. And for the first time, Sarah looked, too. At least, for the first time since the battle, she permitted herself to look at him as a man, not just a patient.
She’d thought him handsome before. When she’d seen him in the park, fully clothed. But she’d never run her eyes over his torso, the way she was doing now. With appreciation of his muscled beauty.
She blushed at the inappropriate turn her mind was taking. She was his nurse. She was supposed to be convincing Madame le Brun that he was her brother. She had no business going all gooey-eyed because he had the kind of body artists would want to sculpt in marble.
‘Will you help me to sit him up?’ she asked Madame with what she hoped sounded like brisk efficiency. ‘Then we can feed him some broth.’
‘I can do it,’ he grumbled.
But he couldn’t. So between them, Sarah and Madame le Brun propped the Major up on a mound of pillows and fed him soup until his eyelids started to flutter closed.
‘Weak as a kitten,’ he muttered in disgust as they helped him lie down again.
‘But now you are eating and the fever has gone, you will be up and going around in no time,’ Madame chided him gently as he drifted back to sleep.
That was good news. Before much longer he wouldn’t need Sarah any more. He would be up and going around, as Madame so quaintly put it. She wouldn’t need to sit over him, alternately sponging his overheated body, or covering him when he shivered.
She would be able to leave, like as not, before anyone discovered she’d had anything to do with him at all. And her reputation would remain intact. She would be safe.
So why did she feel like crying again?
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