from her
pale neck and began sifting through that endless hair. Damn, what had God been
thinking when he had cursed her with so much hair?
She mumbled and leaned away
from his touch which allowed his heart to lower out of his throat. But he did
not allow himself to believe she was out of danger yet. He should never have
let her into the mill. Of course little Ellie Browning would get herself in
trouble. When did she not?
Lucian began picking out the
pins and flinging them carelessly onto his desk. More and more hair fell about
her shoulders. He hoped she paid her maid generously for the time it must take
to pin the blasted stuff up.
When he had room for a
little movement, he began sifting through the locks again and spotted the
source of the blood—a thin red cut. It was not large, but bleeding heavily and
he’d wager a pretty sum that it had hit her hard enough to bruise and likely
leave a bump. If it had knocked her senseless, it must have hit with some
force.
A fragile hand came up to
lock around his wrist as he tried to press his handkerchief against the wound.
Her grip was surprisingly strong and he darted a look at her.
“Stop,” she grumbled.
“Hurts.”
“Of course it bloody well
hurts.” He allowed himself a long breath. “Forgive me, but I must stop the
bleeding.”
Ellie tried to move but he
pressed her back with the lightest of touches. While her grip might be strong,
it was clear the injury had sapped the rest of her strength. She succumbed to
him pressing the cotton to her head while he lifted her chin to look into her
eyes. Though they were half closed, they appeared clear.
“No permanent damage,” he
concluded.
Not to her at least. He
couldn’t be sure about himself. His heart seemed to be racing like a steam
train still and those grey eyes... She lifted her lids a little more and locked
her gaze onto his. It was as if someone had slammed the brakes on the train.
His heart flung itself against his rib cage. What the hell had got into him?
Well, whatever it was, one
good thing would come out of this accident. Lucian didn’t need to get her out
from under his feet any longer. The faulty machinery had done the job. Surely
she wouldn’t want to visit the factory again after such an occurrence?
Hopefully, she would return home to nurse her sore head and stay there where
she belonged. She certainly did not belong in his world and he strongly
suspected he had no place in hers.
Chapter
Seven
Rakes Don’t Do Small Talk
Eleanor winced as Maggie
tugged her hair into place and thrust a pin in to secure a curl. Even after a solid
night’s sleep, her head pounded. Her doctor was due to visit later and she
needed to look presentable—had to appear every inch the elegant countess.
It wasn’t easy. Maggie had a
tiring job vanquishing her hair. Her fair curls had a mind of their own and
would bounce free at any moment. It had taken many years to find a style that
suited and she could only be grateful that the endless amounts of lemon juice
and sunshine had improved the colour. She would never be handsome but she was
much more presentable than when she had first married Edward. Not that he ever
minded, but as an earl’s wife, it was important she lived up to the task.
She ran a finger along the
gold trim of the dressing table and allowed herself a small smile. Being
without Edward was an odd sensation. He’d always been a good companion and she
enjoyed his conversation. He had taught her much. Not even being eighteen when
they were married, he was taking on a lot at his age, but he was always patient
and tolerant of her unruly ways. Not that she allowed herself to be carried
away after the incident with Lucian.
Eleanor had seen herself
through his eyes so clearly after that night. Ugly, annoying, impulsive. Her
parents had hopes of a decent marriage and it was never going to happen. At
least not until Edward offered to have her. And who could say no? He needed a
young companion for his travels
pale neck and began sifting through that endless hair. Damn, what had God been
thinking when he had cursed her with so much hair?
She mumbled and leaned away
from his touch which allowed his heart to lower out of his throat. But he did
not allow himself to believe she was out of danger yet. He should never have
let her into the mill. Of course little Ellie Browning would get herself in
trouble. When did she not?
Lucian began picking out the
pins and flinging them carelessly onto his desk. More and more hair fell about
her shoulders. He hoped she paid her maid generously for the time it must take
to pin the blasted stuff up.
When he had room for a
little movement, he began sifting through the locks again and spotted the
source of the blood—a thin red cut. It was not large, but bleeding heavily and
he’d wager a pretty sum that it had hit her hard enough to bruise and likely
leave a bump. If it had knocked her senseless, it must have hit with some
force.
A fragile hand came up to
lock around his wrist as he tried to press his handkerchief against the wound.
Her grip was surprisingly strong and he darted a look at her.
“Stop,” she grumbled.
“Hurts.”
“Of course it bloody well
hurts.” He allowed himself a long breath. “Forgive me, but I must stop the
bleeding.”
Ellie tried to move but he
pressed her back with the lightest of touches. While her grip might be strong,
it was clear the injury had sapped the rest of her strength. She succumbed to
him pressing the cotton to her head while he lifted her chin to look into her
eyes. Though they were half closed, they appeared clear.
“No permanent damage,” he
concluded.
Not to her at least. He
couldn’t be sure about himself. His heart seemed to be racing like a steam
train still and those grey eyes... She lifted her lids a little more and locked
her gaze onto his. It was as if someone had slammed the brakes on the train.
His heart flung itself against his rib cage. What the hell had got into him?
Well, whatever it was, one
good thing would come out of this accident. Lucian didn’t need to get her out
from under his feet any longer. The faulty machinery had done the job. Surely
she wouldn’t want to visit the factory again after such an occurrence?
Hopefully, she would return home to nurse her sore head and stay there where
she belonged. She certainly did not belong in his world and he strongly
suspected he had no place in hers.
Chapter
Seven
Rakes Don’t Do Small Talk
Eleanor winced as Maggie
tugged her hair into place and thrust a pin in to secure a curl. Even after a solid
night’s sleep, her head pounded. Her doctor was due to visit later and she
needed to look presentable—had to appear every inch the elegant countess.
It wasn’t easy. Maggie had a
tiring job vanquishing her hair. Her fair curls had a mind of their own and
would bounce free at any moment. It had taken many years to find a style that
suited and she could only be grateful that the endless amounts of lemon juice
and sunshine had improved the colour. She would never be handsome but she was
much more presentable than when she had first married Edward. Not that he ever
minded, but as an earl’s wife, it was important she lived up to the task.
She ran a finger along the
gold trim of the dressing table and allowed herself a small smile. Being
without Edward was an odd sensation. He’d always been a good companion and she
enjoyed his conversation. He had taught her much. Not even being eighteen when
they were married, he was taking on a lot at his age, but he was always patient
and tolerant of her unruly ways. Not that she allowed herself to be carried
away after the incident with Lucian.
Eleanor had seen herself
through his eyes so clearly after that night. Ugly, annoying, impulsive. Her
parents had hopes of a decent marriage and it was never going to happen. At
least not until Edward offered to have her. And who could say no? He needed a
young companion for his travels
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