Chapter Five
Charity didn’t know where she found the courage to allow Dane to lift her up into the saddle where she clung to the pummel with a white knuckle grip until he wrap one strong arm around her middle and tucked her into his embrace. He turned her face into his chest and lifted the hood of obscure her face from curious onlookers. His coat was open and she buried her nose into his shirt finding comfort in the warmth of his skin beneath the cloth. His usual pleasant scent of sandalwood and leather was blended with the coppery smell of his blood. She wondered if his wound was worse than he was letting on. Yet he seemed to handle the horse with no difficulty as they moved through the city.
Charity lost all sense of time but it seemed to her they had been riding a long while when she finally noticed a change in their surroundings. The air around them hung heavy with stench of refuse, rotting garbage and human misery so strong that she burrowed into Dane’s embrace inhaling the scent of him. The rhythm of tinkling harness, shod horse hooves and carriage wheels passing over uneven cobblestone was replaced with the shuffle of feet weary from a long days work as passers by made their way home.
It took her a moment to realize that Dane had brought their mount to a stop and that he was pushing out of the saddle causing her to grasp the pommel for support. When his large hands came around her waist and lifted her to the ground she felt his warmth and strength through the heavy wool cloak all the way to her skin. He held her in place longer than proprietary dictated but she was grateful for his steadying hands no matter how it made her heart skip a funny beat.
“Where are we?” she inquired after she felt the ground settle under her feet.
“Dorset street.”
His simple answer made her gasp, “Spitalfield?” She had heard stories of the dangers facing a person if they should have the misfortune of wandering into the area. There were only a few areas in the city that were more dangerous. Whitechapel which bordered onto Spitalfield to the south just a few streets over being one such place.
“No need to fret Miss Price we’ll be perfectly safe here.”
What the heck, he was back to being cold and formal when earlier his use of her given name had been marvelously comforting. Even though she didn’t know why it bothered her, it did. She took a step away and was ready to put more distance between them when he grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the path of a passerby that would surely have knocked her to the ground in their rush past. Unexpected as it was she crashed into him, her breasts pressed against his hard unyielding chest and she clutched his arms to remain standing. They stood like this for several agonizing seconds. Charity became disturbingly aware of his body pressed to hers, felt her nipples pinch tight beneath her chemise. She heard his sharp intake of breath that caressed her cheek and she had the odd sensation that he was lowering his head toward hers until they were both jolted out of their stance by the sound of a street urchin.
“Tend ta yer ‘orse, ya lordship?”
Charity took one step away from Dane but dared not move any further. She twisted her hands in the heavy wool of the cloak and waited for Dane to finish speaking with the young lad. Charity guess his age to be around ten and three from the way his voice cracked when he spoke as boys tended to when coming of age.
“What is your name boy?” Dane asked.
“I be called Michael O’Hara, me friends call me Mikey.”
“Can you ride Mr. Michael O’Hara?” Charity could hear a touch of humor in Dane’s voice.
“Aye, me da taught me when I was a wee lad,” the boy replied in his proud Irish accent and Charity pictured him with a riot of red hair and a faceful of freckles.
“Good, mind my horse well until I return and there will be a shilling in it for you and if you are able I have an errand that will mean another upon your return.”
“Aye your lordship anything ya need bein’ done Mikey be yer man.”
“Wait here I’ll only be a few minutes,” followed Dane’s chuckle.
He then took her elbow and Charity counted four steps before they stopped and then the jingle of what she thought might be keys.
When a loud string of curses rang out followed by a stinging crack of a whip and the scream of a horse caused Charity to startle Dane put a protective arm around her shoulder.
“Just a whiskey wagon Miss Price.”
She listened to the rumble of the wagon as it moved off willing her heart to slow its frantic beating when the slide and click of a key drew her attention.
“We are going to go inside now Miss Price. It will be just of few steps to the bottom of a long staircase. At the top we will turned left down a short corridor to another door that leads into a small suite. I’ll have to leave you there for a few minutes…” His words though softly spoken cause a sudden rush of panic, she did not want to be left alone even for a minute in a strange place but he stopped her frantic shaking of her head when he placed both his hands upon her shoulders.
“I promise you I will only be gone a few minutes. There is something I need young master O’Hara to do and I need to send him on his way before nightfall.”
Charity knew she was being silly and that she must seem like a frightened little mouse to a strong capable man like the Duke of Westbrock so she swallowed her fears, straightened her shoulders and gave a nod for him to lead the way.
The door swished open and with a hand against her lower back Dane guided her into the room saying, “It’s just a small place that I have used a time or two when on assignment but it will do for tonight.”
She counted six steps until he stopped her and commanded she sit. It was a wooden chair with a cushioned seat that he pulled out from a table.
“There’s a small stove in the corner but if you’re not to cold and can wait I’ll light the fire when I return.”
“I’ll be fine,” she told him though she was certain she didn’t sound as sure as she hoped. Charity could feel him hesitate, feel him watching her. Lowering the hood she gave him a weak smile, “You best hurry along before the young lad realizes he can earn more than two shillings buy selling the horse.”
That earned her a chuckle, the low throaty sound sent shivers racing down her spine. He moved away and poured some water and she could only guess by the sudden increase in the smell of blood that he was washing it from his hand. After a moment she heard him move across the floorboards with quick strides.
“I’ll lock the door behind me.” She appreciated his attempts to make her feel secure.
At the door he paused, “I won’t be long.”
His quiet promise washed over her long after the sound of his footsteps receded out of her hearing. She sat wanting to call him back but knew she couldn’t. The room was oddly quiet except for her labored breathing that rushed passed her parted lips. Sucking the bottom one between her teeth she bit down trying to calm the racing anxiety that was threatening to overwhelm her. It was in moments like this that she thought of Hubert and how he would go out of his way to protect her.
Charity found her mind wandering back to when she was pressed against Dane’s hard body. During the ride at first she had been to overcome by the close call she experienced in the garden but as she started to regain her senses she became aware of how his body wrapped around her. His arm felt like a silken band of steel resting just under her breasts and his thigh muscles flexed against her bottom as he steered the horse while keeping her seated in the saddle. Then down on the street when he had grabbed her against him she had for a brief moment thought he was going to kiss her.
No, she shook those ridiculous thoughts from her mind. A man like the Duke of Westbock would not be tempted to kiss someone like her when he was so obviously accustom to have women much more beautiful at his disposal. She was letting the stress of her situation cause her imagine things that clearly were not there.
A soft rap on the door announcing Dane’s return brought her out of her thoughts. She sat listening to him move about the room and though there was only a slight chill in the air he had a fire quickly crackling in the grate. He rummaged in a cupboard for a moment, the clink of china then she heard water splashing into a kettle before he set it atop the stove.
He was making tea? Yes, she caught the scent of tea leaves mingled with that of fresh blood. His wound must have opened up again. She loosened the tie and pushed the cloak from her shoulders saying, “Your wound should be tended to.”
“I’ll be fine.” His dismissal was gruff coming from behind her.
Charity left her seat and turned in the direction of his voice unable to keep the pique from hers.
“A fine state we would be in should it become infected and you are stricken with a fever. You have brought me to a place I know nothing of other than its reputation for murder and mayhem. Should you find in need of a doctor I would be unable to assist in locating one so please cease with the blustering and let us tend to it shall we.”
When he didn’t immediately respond she thought she had angered him but when he finally did she could hear his smile.
“As you wish Miss Price. I believe there are fresh linens in the bedroom that could be used as bandages, there is no need for you to tear up your pretty finery anymore. I’ll just go fetch them.”
Upon his return he handed the linen to her she set about making strips of the cloth while he set up a station at the table, slouching hot water into a basin for washing. When she heard his sudden hiss of breath she asked, “What is it?”
“I could use some help pulling the sleeve off my arm.”
Reaching out with one hand Dane took hold and guided her to his side and then placed her fingers on the cuff of his sleeve. She gently pull the garment down while supporting the weight of it with her other hand. Draping his coat on the chair with her cloak she reached for his shirt sleeve to do the same thing and it occurred to her that she was in the process of removing a man’s clothes. Though in the years before she lost her sight Charity had never laid eyes on a man’s bare chest images of Dane’s shape popped into her head.
She imagined him to be broad across the shoulders and pectorals with a sprinkling of hair the same color of wet sand that graced his head. Flat dark nipples nested against his soft skin and she wondered if they hardened into tight little buds the way hers were right now. Below them she could picture waves of muscle leading down over his flat stomach to the waistband of his trousers.
Feeling her cheeks heat up Charity ducked her head as he pulled the shirt over his head pulling his uninjured arm out of the sleeving leaving the other for her to remove, hissing his breath when the material pulled on his injury. Smelling a wave of fresh blood Charity balled his shirt and carefully pressed it in the area she thought the wound was located. Without saying anything Dane put his hand over hers and moved it slightly higher and together they applied pressure to curb the bleeding.
They stood that way for several minutes neither saying a word. Charity tried calming her breaths that were coming in short quick puffs past her lips. Her tongue snuck out to wet her lower lip and she tasted copper. She felt a shudder race down Dane’s arm and realizing she may be hurting him she pulled the shirt away from his arm causing him to drop his hand.
Reaching for the basin of water, hitting the outside edge and nearly tipping it over Charity pulled her hand back when hot water sloshed over her fingers.
“Careful,” he warned taking her hand and gently wiping them dry. “I can do this part.”
She stood listening as he wet a linen then proceeded to clean the blood from his arm again hissing when he touch his wound directly. Not being able to stand the silence any longer she asked him, “How bad is it?”
“The bullet didn’t penetrate, just left a nasty gash. It should be stitched but I fear the blood lose has left me feeling a bit light headed and unable to seek out a doctor.”
For the first time she noticed his voice did not hold the same commanding strength it usually had and she had to push down the feeling of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. It would do neither of them any good if she lost her composure. Right now Dane needed her to remain strong and self-assured even though she didn’t feel so.
“I can do it,” she told him and then wondered what on earth she was thinking to tell him that.
“Are you certain?”
Charity heard the surprise and doubt in his voice and did not begrudge him his questioning her abilities. After all what sane individual would trust a blind person so take a needle and thread to mending their gaping wound? And really she wasn’t so sure herself that she could actually do so but she knew that she could not let him remain as he was. The chance of infection was to great if the wound remained open and that was by far the greater risk to take.
Showing far more confidence than she felt Charity blustered, “I’ll have you know that I am quite skilled at the mundane task of embroidery.”
She was rewarded with another of his soft chuckles that warmed her skin alarmingly.
“You’ll find needle and thread in the cupboard on the other side of the table. I would get it myself but I feel the need to sit before I fall over.”
“Yes please do. You are far too large for me to rescue off the floor.”
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she carefully made her way around the table only lightly bumping into the chair where her borrowed cloak and his clothes were draped.
“Just a couple steps and you’ll be there.” He guided her from where he sat and soon she located the drawer where after a moment of carefully feeling around she found what she was after. Along with scissors that she knew she would need she came back to his side.
∞∞∞
Dane watched completely enthralled as Charity made her way slowly around the table. He hadn’t lied when he told her that he was feeling weakened from the blood lose but he hadn’t been completely honest either. He felt far worse than he let on, in fact he had to stop twice on his way back up the stairs just to remain on his feet. Why he hadn’t thought of sending young Michael to fetch a doctor before sending him on his way he wasn’t sure. He supposed he was too anxious to get back to Charity before she became overly frightened being left alone. He knew she was trying to be brave but he had seen the fear written all over her face as he closed the door behind him.
Even now he could see her small delicate hands trembling as she cut a length of thread and attempted to pass it through the eye of the needle. After failing miserably he cupped his hands around hers, “Let me.”
Without taking his hands off hers he helped her guide the thread through the needle noticing how hers became steady in his grip. Finally taking the needle from her he told her, “There’s a bottle of brandy in the same cupboard. If you could fetch it we’ll get started?”
He marvelled how easily she moved around the table after only having done so once before but this time she didn’t need to use her outstretched hand to guide her way. He could imagine her counting the steps quietly in her head as she familiarize herself with the room. A smile tipped his lips as Charity pulled a glass down with the bottle before closing the cupboard door and efficiently made her way across the floor.
Taking the bottle and glass from her Dane pour a draft which he tossed back in one gulp. Setting the glass on the table he took up the needle and thread and pouring a good portion of the liquor over them into the glass. When the last drop fell off the end of the thread he downed the brandy then quickly pour a small amount over his wound. Gritting his teeth against the searing pain he filled the glass one more time but before he could raise it to his lips Charity took hold and he watched fascinated as she tossed back her head and empty the glass. He saw her whole body shudder from the burn of the amber liquid as it hit her stomach and he liked what he saw.
He took a moment to take in her appearance for the first time today. She was wearing a day dress the color of warm sunshine that perfectly accented the color of her hair, some of which hung loose from it pins obviously a result of her struggles earlier in the garden. Three quarter length sleeves hid most of her arms and the bodice was more modise than gowns worn to soirees but still low enough that he could detect the soft swell of her breasts. Breasts he saw rise and fall with her deep intake of breath as she prepared herself for the task at hand.
“I can do this if it is too much,” he assured her and had to swallow a groan when her tongue shot out and licked her lower lip making it shine. He couldn’t pull his eyes off the ripe fullness of her mouth and he felt his lower stomach clench when he thought of devouring it beneath his own lips. It wasn’t until she softly spoke that he was able to pull out of his trance.
“Perhaps if you can start the first stitch I will be able to take over from there.”
By the time Charity finished with the last stitch his body was strung as tight as her stitching. Having her stand so close that he could smell her delicate scent of lilacs which were now his favorite flower and feel the warmth radiating off her skin was enough to distract him from the pain in his arm but the touch of her hands upon him was more arousing than he thought possible. Her touch was light as feathers, her fingers danced across his skin as if she was stroking the keys of a piano and her soft breath caressed his skin in a way that he felt it all the way down to his groin. He knew she was being careful not to aggravate his injury further but a part of him would have welcomed the pain. It at least would have taken his mind off the woman standing with in reach of him. And did he ever want to reach out and touch her.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her mouth for every few minutes her tongue would swipe across moisturizing her lips, tantalizing him with their sweetness. His cock swelled behind the placket of his trousers and he was glad to have the remnants of his shirt in his lap to hide the evidence of his arousal although why he had to hide it he didn’t know. He chastised himself reminding him of her time in Bedlam which he had heard stories of the horrid treatment women endured behind its walls.
That was a sobering enough thought to ease his discomfort slightly and when she set down the scissors he realized with a start that she was finished. Finally pulling his gaze away he examined the surprisingly neat nearly perfect line of stitches.
“Nicely done Miss Price. I half expected to find a flower stitched upon my arm.” His teasing got him a small smile.
“Had I not feared you would faint away I would have taken the time to stitch a rose.” She teased right back.
“I’ll have you know that I have never fainted in my life.” He told her with mock indignity.
“That is not the impression you gave moments ago when you confessed that you were near to falling off your feet.”
He liked how her smile widened as she wrapped the linen bandages around his upper arm.
“If you speak of such to anyone I will deny it.” he felt significantly improved when she broke into a full fledged smile, the first he had seen from her. It kicked him in the gut. He hoped to see more.
“Regardless, I know the truth of the matter, what others believe does not signify.”
Dane swore he could see the glimmer of laughter in her amber eyes and he was struck with a sadness that he had not been able to see the full glory of shining amber before they became dulled by her blindness.