Chapter 14
Standing by the side of the bed, Rian looked down at the sleeping figure. Dr. MacGregor had left with a promise to return the following morning to check on his patient. Rian had a feeling he would be in time for breakfast.
“How is she?” he asked softly, addressing his question to Mrs. Hatch.
“Calm enough for the present, Master Rian,” she answered. “The doctor gave her a draught to help her sleep, and left me some ointment for her back.”
The patient was lying on her stomach, the best position for her, and her head was turned toward him. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was now deep and even. Mrs. Hatch had managed to wash the matted blood from the girl’s long hair, and it lay spun out on the pillow to dry. Rian couldn’t remember ever seeing such a color before. It reminded him of a field of winter wheat waiting for the kiss of the harvester’s scythe. A sheet had been modestly pulled up to her shoulders to cover her, but it did not hide the bulky strips of linen that crisscrossed her back, and continued down her legs.
Following the contours of her body, Rian allowed his eyes to linger on the hollow in the small of her back, continue over the rounding curve of her buttocks and the long tapering legs that ended with unnatural looking lumps. It took him a moment to recall the doctor’s words, and realize he was looking at her heavily bandaged feet.
“Dr. MacGregor said you don’t think she’s a working girl.” Rian kept his voice low and gave his housekeeper a wry smile.
“That’s right, Master Rian,” she confirmed in a voice that remained firm in spite of the heated blush fanning her cheeks.
His own curiosity got the better of him, making him ask, “What makes you think that?”
“It’s her hair and hands.”
He raised a brow, a sign that further clarification was needed.
“Her hair is clean, much cleaner than a girl working the docks would have, and her hands are soft. Though she has a few calluses, they’re the kind a lady of good breeding would have. The kind your mother used to have.”
Rian could remember the feel of his mother’s hands soothing his brow as a child, but he had no memory of whether her hands were calloused. He was amazed that Mrs. Hatch could recall such a detail. “I had no idea ladies got calluses.”
“Those who refuse to be idle do.”
Unable to fault the housekeeper’s logic, and knowing this was all the explanation he was going to get, Rian turned his mind to a slightly more mundane, but no less pressing concern. He hadn’t considered where to put the girl when he first entered the house. He had simply taken her to the only room that made sense to him. The room he was using. Obviously he needed to move out, but had no idea which bedroom to use. Glancing at the dresser, he noted the absence of his personal items. Mrs. Hatch, it would seem, was a step ahead, as usual.
“Your clothing and personal belongings have been moved to the suite down the hall, if that will be satisfactory,” she told him, noticing his look, and grateful to change the subject. “The doctor advised not moving her for a day or so.”
Rian nodded. “For as long as it takes, Mrs. Hatch.”
He turned to leave, and then turned back and spoke in a low voice. “I think, for the time being, it would be best if news of our guest did not travel beyond this house. I leave her well-being entirely in your care, and I trust you to deal with questions from the rest of the staff as they arise, but until she can tell us who she is, and what happened to her, I see no reason to broadcast her presence.”
“Of course, Master Rian. No one will breathe a word about her,” the housekeeper assured him. She did not need to add that anyone foolish enough to disobey her instructions would soon be looking for another position.
He gave a satisfied nod. “Well, I will leave you to your patient then.”
It had been a long night, and, thanks to Isabel, he had gotten little sleep. Making his way to the room he had been moved to, he quickly undressed, got into bed, and fell asleep almost immediately.
* * * *
When Rian opened his eyes the lengthening shadows on the wall told him he had slept through the entire morning and much of the afternoon. Far longer than he had intended. He swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and shook his head to clear away the last cobwebs of sleep. With a yawn, he walked to the washstand and poured cold water into the basin provided. After washing his face and hands he dried off and quickly dressed. He wanted to check if there had been any improvement in the girl’s condition, even though he was confident that Mrs. Hatch would have woken him if there had been.
Seeing the door to the master suite ajar, he paused. The sound of low moaning came from within the room. It was similar to the fretful mewling he remembered from earlier; although more agitated it seemed to him. It was possible the girl was being attended to, having her dressings changed, and he did not wish to disturb the process. But he did not hear any sounds that would have accompanied such a task. There was no soft rustle of the housekeeper’s skirts as she moved, no gentle murmur offering comfort. Rian heard nothing save for the girl moaning.
Concern got the better of him. He pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold. The girl was completely alone, moving restlessly beneath the sheet, and the sound of her distress was turning more insistent. Rian occupied the vacant chair at the bedside, watching as the girl rolled onto her back, tossing her head from side to side, and drawing a labored breath between clenched teeth. His initial anger at finding her alone was now replaced with alarm. A basin of water was on the table next to the bed. Using the cloth left for such a purpose, Rian dipped it into the water, wrung it out and then wiped it across the girl’s brow.
His effort seemed to soothe her a little, but as he smoothed the cloth over her forehead and across her cheeks, he could feel an unnatural heat coming from her. Placing his hand on her forehead, he confirmed the burn of fever. Her cheeks were flushed, and her breathing became even more labored as he listened. He began to hum softly. A tune he recalled from his childhood. One his mother had turned to if ever he or Liam had difficulty sleeping. The sound seemed to ease the girl. Rian did not think it was his slightly off-key crooning she responded to; rather he imagined the melody was familiar. In his experience almost all lullabies sounded the same.
He was concentrating on wiping the perspiration from her brow when she took him by surprise. Gripping his wrist with an unexpected strength, she turned her one bright blue eye to him, tears sparkling on the thick lashes like small diamonds. Her swollen lips moved painfully as she tried to speak, and Rian leaned closer so he might catch her words.
“Please…no more. Please…don’t hurt me.”
It was the most harrowing plea he had ever heard, and as he gently unclasped her fingers from his wrist and held her hand, a strange sensation engulfed him.
The feeling of rage that had coursed through him earlier now returned, racing fiercely through his blood, its fury directed at her unknown assailant. But moving alongside it, with an equal intensity of passion, came a sense of protectiveness that was so strong it threatened to overwhelm him. Staring down at her, Rian saw not the injured girl in the bed, but the woman she really was. It wasn’t that hard for him to look past the swelling and discoloration, to imagine her cheeks flushed with joy, her eyes sparkling, and her generous mouth lifted in happiness. And he knew he wanted to see her look like that with his own eyes. More importantly, he wanted to be the one responsible for making it so.
Holding her hand, he brushed a stray curl from her damp cheek and as he did so, she opened her eye again and looked directly at him. Her gaze was steady, even though the blue iris glittered wildly with an unnatural light as her fever ran its course. For a moment that seemed to last an eternity, the two of them gazed upon each other, and Rian felt his throat tighten. Any words of comfort he thought to offer died in his throat as the girl struggled to speak.
“Help…me,” she begged, as more diamonds fell from her lashes and glistened on her flushed cheeks. “Help…” and, as if to emphasize her plea, she squeezed his hand with what little strength she possessed before her eyelid closed, and her hand grew slack in his palm.
“I promise,” Rian whispered, laying her hand gently back on the sheet. He had no way of knowing if she heard his words, or if she understood the significance of the husky emotion with which they were delivered.
At that moment a housemaid appeared in the open doorway and apologized profusely for leaving her charge alone. “’Twas only for a moment, sir,” she said, shifting from foot to foot, nervously awaiting the reprimand she was certain was coming.
“It’s all right,” Rian said, his voice unexpectedly calm. He would gain nothing by being angry, and whoever she was, Mrs. Hatch trusted her enough to have her attend the girl. A longer look revealed her as the maid who had opened the front door to him earlier. “What’s your name, girl?”
“Tilly, sir.” She dipped a hesitant knee to him.
“I want your promise, Tilly, that you won’t leave her alone again. If you need to leave this room for any reason, then you stand in the doorway, and you call until either Mrs. Hatch or I come to you.” The words were kindly spoken, but there was no mistaking the firmness behind them. “Can you promise me that?”
“Yes, sir, it won’t happen again. I give you my word.”
Rian nodded and thanked her with a grave look. Outside the room, with the door firmly closed behind him, he leaned against the wall. His head was swimming and his heart was pounding in his chest. Damn! There was something about this girl that was affecting him in a way he had never imagined could happen again. Something he had long forgotten. The seed of an emotion buried deep inside him had taken root, and was pushing up a delicate shoot, waiting to see if there would be any encouragement to grow.
It wasn’t possible. Was it?
Rian shook his head. It was a ridiculous notion. He knew nothing about her, who she was, where she came from, or the reason behind her horrific injuries. Did he really want to add to the confusion of the situation? Better to put a stop to any wild imaginings on his part before they got out of hand and he made a fool of himself. Refusing to think further about this possible predicament, he headed for the staircase, where the sound of rising voices told him a visitor had arrived.