Read Online Move Heaven and Earth by Christina Dodd - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Christina Dodd
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interesting. “I wonder why.”
“Could have knocked me over with a owl-wing feather, miss, but I don’t know why.”
“Let’s go back to your room,” Betty urged. “There’s no need—”
“I think perhaps there is.”
“At least get dressed!” Betty set her jaw. “Your reputation—”
“Can’t be hurt.” Sylvan smiled and turned back to her room. “But I will dress.”
When she stepped out again, looking neat in a simple muslin gown, Betty still clung to her heels, protesting, “Miss, I don’t like this.”
Trying to surmise Rand’s motive, Sylvan answered, “Perhaps he’s testing me. Perhaps he’s truly in pain, but won’t admit it. Men are like that, you know.”
“Aye, they are. Fools all,” Betty grumbled, but she started down the hall to Rand’s room. “And whether you worry about your reputation or not, I’ll be there to protect it.”
Jasper opened the door and half ducked. Apparently Rand routinely threw things at those who dared beard his den. When nothing came out, Jasper called, “I brought her, master.”
“Send her in.” Rand’s voice sounded rough, as if he’d been crying.
But when Sylvan stepped through the door, she knew he had not. He probably hadn’t cried since he was a child, and he needed to. As Betty said, men were fools all.
He sat propped up in his bed, frowning at his palm. He wore more than he had that afternoon—a white bedgown covered his shoulders, arms, and chest. “Did Jasper tell you?”
“That you have a splinter?” she asked calmly. “He did.”
“I didn’t think you’d really come.”
“Of course. I’m your nurse. When you call, I come running.”
His blue eyes glowed in the light of the candles, his ebony hair stood on end, and she saw the flash of his white teeth when he grinned. “I doubt that.”
“Within reason,” she temporized. Holding out her hand, she said, “Let me see.”
He gave her his hand and she cradled it between her palms. The fingers were long and thick, with calluses on every pad. Lines crisscrossed his skin—some natural, some the result of wounds. Flecks of red covered the places where the other splinters had been removed, and she saw the reason for this visit at once. Large, black, and deep, the splinter had worked its way beneath the pad below his index finger. It had to be painful, and if not extracted, it would lead to infection.
Rand could reasonably have called for his nurse to remove it.
She didn’t believe that was why he’d called her.
“Do you have tweezers, needle, and basilicum?” she asked.
“Aye, miss.” Jasper showed her the instruments and the dark stoppered bottle.
She needed to hold the hand still, yet at the same time have both her hands free. If she rested his hand on the mattress, it sank among the feathers and out of the light. Yet…
“Sit on the bed,” Rand instructed, “and hold it in your lap.”
Betty gasped. “Lord Rand!”
“Betty, get out of here,” Rand commanded.
“I will not, sir.” Betty placed her fists on her hips. “’Tisn’t decent, Miss Sylvan being here in the night, and she needs a chaperone.”
“Jasper’s here.”
Betty was unconvinced.
“And Sylvan’s not afraid. Are you, Sylvan?”
Sylvan stared at Rand and saw challenge personified. “No. I’m not afraid of you.”
“Go on, Betty. Run away and play.” Rand pointed toward the door, but Betty just stood there, stubborn and unyielding, and to Sylvan’s surprise, he gave in. “Oh, for God’s sake, just go and get me some sliced cold meats and some biscuits. I didn’t eat dinner, and I’m hungry.”
Betty relaxed her stance and considered.
“Really, Betty, you can go,” Sylvan said. “If he tries any mischief, I’ll bash him.”
Rand looked Sylvan over from top to toe. It didn’t take long. “Ooh, I’m frightened.”
“You’d best be, Lord Rand, because if you give me reason for grief, I’ll see that you’re sorry.” With that startling pronouncement,
“Could have knocked me over with a owl-wing feather, miss, but I don’t know why.”
“Let’s go back to your room,” Betty urged. “There’s no need—”
“I think perhaps there is.”
“At least get dressed!” Betty set her jaw. “Your reputation—”
“Can’t be hurt.” Sylvan smiled and turned back to her room. “But I will dress.”
When she stepped out again, looking neat in a simple muslin gown, Betty still clung to her heels, protesting, “Miss, I don’t like this.”
Trying to surmise Rand’s motive, Sylvan answered, “Perhaps he’s testing me. Perhaps he’s truly in pain, but won’t admit it. Men are like that, you know.”
“Aye, they are. Fools all,” Betty grumbled, but she started down the hall to Rand’s room. “And whether you worry about your reputation or not, I’ll be there to protect it.”
Jasper opened the door and half ducked. Apparently Rand routinely threw things at those who dared beard his den. When nothing came out, Jasper called, “I brought her, master.”
“Send her in.” Rand’s voice sounded rough, as if he’d been crying.
But when Sylvan stepped through the door, she knew he had not. He probably hadn’t cried since he was a child, and he needed to. As Betty said, men were fools all.
He sat propped up in his bed, frowning at his palm. He wore more than he had that afternoon—a white bedgown covered his shoulders, arms, and chest. “Did Jasper tell you?”
“That you have a splinter?” she asked calmly. “He did.”
“I didn’t think you’d really come.”
“Of course. I’m your nurse. When you call, I come running.”
His blue eyes glowed in the light of the candles, his ebony hair stood on end, and she saw the flash of his white teeth when he grinned. “I doubt that.”
“Within reason,” she temporized. Holding out her hand, she said, “Let me see.”
He gave her his hand and she cradled it between her palms. The fingers were long and thick, with calluses on every pad. Lines crisscrossed his skin—some natural, some the result of wounds. Flecks of red covered the places where the other splinters had been removed, and she saw the reason for this visit at once. Large, black, and deep, the splinter had worked its way beneath the pad below his index finger. It had to be painful, and if not extracted, it would lead to infection.
Rand could reasonably have called for his nurse to remove it.
She didn’t believe that was why he’d called her.
“Do you have tweezers, needle, and basilicum?” she asked.
“Aye, miss.” Jasper showed her the instruments and the dark stoppered bottle.
She needed to hold the hand still, yet at the same time have both her hands free. If she rested his hand on the mattress, it sank among the feathers and out of the light. Yet…
“Sit on the bed,” Rand instructed, “and hold it in your lap.”
Betty gasped. “Lord Rand!”
“Betty, get out of here,” Rand commanded.
“I will not, sir.” Betty placed her fists on her hips. “’Tisn’t decent, Miss Sylvan being here in the night, and she needs a chaperone.”
“Jasper’s here.”
Betty was unconvinced.
“And Sylvan’s not afraid. Are you, Sylvan?”
Sylvan stared at Rand and saw challenge personified. “No. I’m not afraid of you.”
“Go on, Betty. Run away and play.” Rand pointed toward the door, but Betty just stood there, stubborn and unyielding, and to Sylvan’s surprise, he gave in. “Oh, for God’s sake, just go and get me some sliced cold meats and some biscuits. I didn’t eat dinner, and I’m hungry.”
Betty relaxed her stance and considered.
“Really, Betty, you can go,” Sylvan said. “If he tries any mischief, I’ll bash him.”
Rand looked Sylvan over from top to toe. It didn’t take long. “Ooh, I’m frightened.”
“You’d best be, Lord Rand, because if you give me reason for grief, I’ll see that you’re sorry.” With that startling pronouncement,
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