Read Online Move Heaven and Earth by Christina Dodd - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christina Dodd
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Betty said to Jasper, “You watch them,” and left.
Rand looked after her. “I suppose I’d better do my mischief early so she doesn’t catch me.” Switching his concentration to Sylvan, he commanded softly, “Now get on the bed and remove this thing.”
Betty’s lack of respect left Sylvan feeling smug and a little superior. After all, if the housekeeper could speak to Rand that way and get away with it, what harm could it do to sit on his bed? The man was paralyzed, and she was his nurse. Calmly, she climbed onto the mattress.
“Miss Sylvan!”
Jasper sounded even more scandalized than Betty, but neither of the bed’s occupants paid attention. Sylvan sat on her feet, facing the headboard, and tucked her skirt around her so that no bit of flesh might tempt Rand—although why she should worry about such a thing, she didn’t know.
His hand rested on the sheets where she had put it, as limp as if it, too, were paralyzed. But when she picked it up to place it on her knee, vitality leaped from the flesh. Never had she touched a person so alive, so vibrant. It was as if life channeled itself through Rand to the rest of the world—and if Rand died, the world would end.
An odd notion, and one Sylvan dismissed as part of her weariness.
She pressed the flesh about the splinter, then picked up the needle. “This will hurt.”
“I know.”
The gravelly sound in his voice startled her; he seemed almost to relish the pain. Using the needle, she had to dig, and dig deep, but Rand bore it stoically, even when she spread basilicum over the laceration to prevent infection.
Had he found that pain proved superior to no sensation at all?
“There you are.” Wiping her hand on a towel, she asked, “Is there anything else?”
“No.” She started to slide off the bed, and he caught her arm with his undamaged hand. “Yes.”
She looked at him inquiringly.
“I want to apologize.”
“Sir?”
“For my brother.”
Amazement buffeted her, then fury, and she shook off his grip. “You’re apologizing for your brother? After all you’ve done today?”
He opened his mouth, shut it, then ran his hand over his face. “I never thought of it that way. But yes, I apologize for my brother.”
“You ought to be…”
He lifted one eyebrow and smiled. “Spanked?”
“Ashamed of yourself.”
“No. I’ve been insufferable, but I wasn’t the one who lured you here.”
“How did you—”
“Know?” He grinned. “I’m familiar with Garth’s methods, and I can imagine the tale he wove for you. ‘Poor Rand, confined to his bed and a wheelchair and languishing. He’s lost his will to live.’”
Since that was almost exactly what Garth had insinuated, Sylvan blushed furiously, and Rand laughed. “Garth’s a good man, but my father raised him to be the duke, and my father believed that the duke of Clairmont stood just below the apostles in importance and should always get his own way, regardless of the means.”
“And you do not?”
“My father raised me to believe the entire Malkin family could stop the tide with a word.”
“Then why don’t you?” she asked nastily.
His blue eyes glinted with mischief. “It is not my desire.”
She slid one leg off the bed. “I’m not interested in your desire.”
“Aren’t you?” His tone arrested her, and she froze completely when he said, “I liked the look of you in Brussels.”
“Sh.” She glanced at Jasper.
“Go on, Jasper.” Rand waved an impatient hand. “I don’t need you.”
“But, master—”
“Go on, go on.” Rand scowled impatiently. “Miss Sylvan can get me everything I want.”
With a look of wounded resentment, Jasper shambled to the door.
“Shut it behind you,” Rand called.
“No!” Sylvan said.
Jasper shut the door with just a touch of force, and Sylvan tried to slide off the bed, but Rand’s injured hand, which had been lying so limp against her, suddenly turned and grasped her knee. “I like the look of you
Rand looked after her. “I suppose I’d better do my mischief early so she doesn’t catch me.” Switching his concentration to Sylvan, he commanded softly, “Now get on the bed and remove this thing.”
Betty’s lack of respect left Sylvan feeling smug and a little superior. After all, if the housekeeper could speak to Rand that way and get away with it, what harm could it do to sit on his bed? The man was paralyzed, and she was his nurse. Calmly, she climbed onto the mattress.
“Miss Sylvan!”
Jasper sounded even more scandalized than Betty, but neither of the bed’s occupants paid attention. Sylvan sat on her feet, facing the headboard, and tucked her skirt around her so that no bit of flesh might tempt Rand—although why she should worry about such a thing, she didn’t know.
His hand rested on the sheets where she had put it, as limp as if it, too, were paralyzed. But when she picked it up to place it on her knee, vitality leaped from the flesh. Never had she touched a person so alive, so vibrant. It was as if life channeled itself through Rand to the rest of the world—and if Rand died, the world would end.
An odd notion, and one Sylvan dismissed as part of her weariness.
She pressed the flesh about the splinter, then picked up the needle. “This will hurt.”
“I know.”
The gravelly sound in his voice startled her; he seemed almost to relish the pain. Using the needle, she had to dig, and dig deep, but Rand bore it stoically, even when she spread basilicum over the laceration to prevent infection.
Had he found that pain proved superior to no sensation at all?
“There you are.” Wiping her hand on a towel, she asked, “Is there anything else?”
“No.” She started to slide off the bed, and he caught her arm with his undamaged hand. “Yes.”
She looked at him inquiringly.
“I want to apologize.”
“Sir?”
“For my brother.”
Amazement buffeted her, then fury, and she shook off his grip. “You’re apologizing for your brother? After all you’ve done today?”
He opened his mouth, shut it, then ran his hand over his face. “I never thought of it that way. But yes, I apologize for my brother.”
“You ought to be…”
He lifted one eyebrow and smiled. “Spanked?”
“Ashamed of yourself.”
“No. I’ve been insufferable, but I wasn’t the one who lured you here.”
“How did you—”
“Know?” He grinned. “I’m familiar with Garth’s methods, and I can imagine the tale he wove for you. ‘Poor Rand, confined to his bed and a wheelchair and languishing. He’s lost his will to live.’”
Since that was almost exactly what Garth had insinuated, Sylvan blushed furiously, and Rand laughed. “Garth’s a good man, but my father raised him to be the duke, and my father believed that the duke of Clairmont stood just below the apostles in importance and should always get his own way, regardless of the means.”
“And you do not?”
“My father raised me to believe the entire Malkin family could stop the tide with a word.”
“Then why don’t you?” she asked nastily.
His blue eyes glinted with mischief. “It is not my desire.”
She slid one leg off the bed. “I’m not interested in your desire.”
“Aren’t you?” His tone arrested her, and she froze completely when he said, “I liked the look of you in Brussels.”
“Sh.” She glanced at Jasper.
“Go on, Jasper.” Rand waved an impatient hand. “I don’t need you.”
“But, master—”
“Go on, go on.” Rand scowled impatiently. “Miss Sylvan can get me everything I want.”
With a look of wounded resentment, Jasper shambled to the door.
“Shut it behind you,” Rand called.
“No!” Sylvan said.
Jasper shut the door with just a touch of force, and Sylvan tried to slide off the bed, but Rand’s injured hand, which had been lying so limp against her, suddenly turned and grasped her knee. “I like the look of you
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