Read Online Capturing Sir Dunnicliffe (The Star Elite Series) by Rebecca King - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca King
Ads: Link
and took the opportunity to steady herself while she studied him.
Sweat had popped out on his brow, and he had gone deathly pale. The rhythmic twitching of his jaw had stopped but his lips were now pinched white with pain. If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Harriett would have thought he had died. She knew he had passed out through the pain she had caused, and immediately a wave of guilt swept through her, leaving her wondering if she could have done something differently. Desperately, she racked her brains for anything in her work-room that could help him, but knew that it was useless. Nothing except unconsciousness could ease the pain he had experienced, yet he hadn’t uttered a sound.
Harriett could only admire his inner strength and fortitude. Despite his agony he had made no attempt to ask her to stop, or cursed at her, or shown any weakness. Spurred into action by the realisation that his unconsciousness would ease his discomfort, Harriett hurriedly began to clean the wound. Once it was stitched, she made sure the poultice was applied properly before binding his arm, carefully keeping one eye on him for any sign of him waking up.
She wasn’t certain what time it was when she finally slumped into the rickety chair beside the bed and willed her trembling limbs to steady. She had no idea how she had managed to get through the past few hours, but was only glad that the worst seemed to be over. For now, she needed to change the sheets around him and prepare him some broth to drink.
When he awoke, he had a lot of questions to answer, but until then it was down to her to make sure he had everything he needed to get better. That thought was enough to get her to her feet. Moments later she set a pot of water on the fire to boil, and began to make the broth he would need to help him regain his strength.
She suddenly wanted – needed – to get him out of her home as quickly as possible. For her own peace of mind, if not to remove the danger his presence in her cottage brought her. Given his orders to lock the door and close the shutters, she had no doubt the danger to him was still very real, but unfortunately that threat of danger now included her. In addition to the physical danger, she knew instinctively that this man would pose a problem to her emotional safety if he remained for too long.
She had already begun to wonder how she would adjust to living by herself when he had gone.
Immediately her thoughts turned to her arrival home only the night before, and the loneliness that had plagued her. How quickly life can change, she mused, carefully easing the door to the bedroom partially closed behind her before moving to the kitchen to answer the urgent summons of the iron pot above the fireplace.
One moment she was alone, the next her father had visited and brought with him a closeness that unsettled her. Then Hugo had arrived, and was, for the moment at least, incapable of leaving.
She frowned in consternation, unsure what to make of it all. It was fair to say that Hugo was a devastatingly handsome man, who probably had a horde of females tripping over themselves to vie for his attention, but that didn’t mean she had to be one of them. She was a spinster, who spent her days alone, and was happy that way. Wasn’t she?
“Keep telling yourself that , and one day you may believe it,” Harriett whispered to herself, scowling as she moved the pot to the table and began to peel and chop vegetables for the broth.
If she was honest, she was far from content with her lot in life. B ut if she had any sense of self-preservation, she had to keep in mind what had happened to her own mother. It was that thought that gave her the strength to bolster her fortitude, and mentally vow to give Hugo every assistance he needed to get back on his feet, before she shoved him out of the door and out of her life once and for all.
She nudged Harrold out of the way as she moved around the kitchen preparing the
Sweat had popped out on his brow, and he had gone deathly pale. The rhythmic twitching of his jaw had stopped but his lips were now pinched white with pain. If it wasn’t for the steady rise and fall of his chest, Harriett would have thought he had died. She knew he had passed out through the pain she had caused, and immediately a wave of guilt swept through her, leaving her wondering if she could have done something differently. Desperately, she racked her brains for anything in her work-room that could help him, but knew that it was useless. Nothing except unconsciousness could ease the pain he had experienced, yet he hadn’t uttered a sound.
Harriett could only admire his inner strength and fortitude. Despite his agony he had made no attempt to ask her to stop, or cursed at her, or shown any weakness. Spurred into action by the realisation that his unconsciousness would ease his discomfort, Harriett hurriedly began to clean the wound. Once it was stitched, she made sure the poultice was applied properly before binding his arm, carefully keeping one eye on him for any sign of him waking up.
She wasn’t certain what time it was when she finally slumped into the rickety chair beside the bed and willed her trembling limbs to steady. She had no idea how she had managed to get through the past few hours, but was only glad that the worst seemed to be over. For now, she needed to change the sheets around him and prepare him some broth to drink.
When he awoke, he had a lot of questions to answer, but until then it was down to her to make sure he had everything he needed to get better. That thought was enough to get her to her feet. Moments later she set a pot of water on the fire to boil, and began to make the broth he would need to help him regain his strength.
She suddenly wanted – needed – to get him out of her home as quickly as possible. For her own peace of mind, if not to remove the danger his presence in her cottage brought her. Given his orders to lock the door and close the shutters, she had no doubt the danger to him was still very real, but unfortunately that threat of danger now included her. In addition to the physical danger, she knew instinctively that this man would pose a problem to her emotional safety if he remained for too long.
She had already begun to wonder how she would adjust to living by herself when he had gone.
Immediately her thoughts turned to her arrival home only the night before, and the loneliness that had plagued her. How quickly life can change, she mused, carefully easing the door to the bedroom partially closed behind her before moving to the kitchen to answer the urgent summons of the iron pot above the fireplace.
One moment she was alone, the next her father had visited and brought with him a closeness that unsettled her. Then Hugo had arrived, and was, for the moment at least, incapable of leaving.
She frowned in consternation, unsure what to make of it all. It was fair to say that Hugo was a devastatingly handsome man, who probably had a horde of females tripping over themselves to vie for his attention, but that didn’t mean she had to be one of them. She was a spinster, who spent her days alone, and was happy that way. Wasn’t she?
“Keep telling yourself that , and one day you may believe it,” Harriett whispered to herself, scowling as she moved the pot to the table and began to peel and chop vegetables for the broth.
If she was honest, she was far from content with her lot in life. B ut if she had any sense of self-preservation, she had to keep in mind what had happened to her own mother. It was that thought that gave her the strength to bolster her fortitude, and mentally vow to give Hugo every assistance he needed to get back on his feet, before she shoved him out of the door and out of her life once and for all.
She nudged Harrold out of the way as she moved around the kitchen preparing the
Similar Books
