Read Online Swept Away by Marsha Canham - Free Book Online

Reverend Mr. Stanley Althorpe who is, I believe, five years your junior. You also have an older brother--” she paused and reached for the stoppered bottle of laudanum on the bedside table, pouring what she hoped was a safe measure of the pale blue liquid into a glass before mixing it with equal parts of water. “His name is Arthur, and I think my aunt said he was thirty-one...or perhaps it was thirty-two, I am not sure. There was a third brother, William, but he has passed, as have your father and mother. Your father was Edgar Althorpe, and he was the Earl of Hatherleigh,” she added, trying to remember what her aunt had told her about the family. “Your mother’s name was Eugenia. You have no sisters, but you do have a sister-in-law, Lucille--the vicar’s wife. Your family home is called Windsea Hall and is located some five miles north and east of here, above Torquay.”
    His eyes were squeezed tightly shut. “I do not recognize any of those names or places. I do not even recognize the name you tell me is my own.”
    “Here,” she said, leaning over the bed. “Take a sip of water, you must be thirsty. I’ve put some laudanum in it which may help ease the pain.”
    He reached eagerly for the glass but hand was still too shaky to hold it steady against his lips. Anna slid her arm under his shoulder to support him while he took several deep swallows, and when he finished, he fell back against the pillows, trapping her arm beneath. The motion brought her forward and she found herself practically sprawled across his chest, her nose a mere inch or two from his face.
    His eyes were closed again and she watched as a trickle of water ran down his chin, leaving a shiny path of liquid between the taut cords of his neck. The hand he had placed over hers while she held the glass to his lips had slipped down until it was around her wrist, and although it was warm and dry, Anna felt a cool, prickling sensation skitter up her arm and down her spine. It was not nearly as fierce a grip as the one he had held her with on the beach, but even so, the size of his hand, the strength in his fingers made her wrist feel as fragile as a matchstick.
    “I really should fetch my aunt,” she whispered. “She will know much better than I what to do.”
    “Just one more question.”
    “Truly, sir, my aunt knows far more about this than I. I have only been here a week myself, on a visit from London.”
    “Please,” he said, the softness of the word sending another shiver through her body. “You said I was on the beach? Who found me?”
    “As it happened...I did. I was the one who found you.”
    He had not yet opened his eyes, for which Anna was partially thankful. She was wriggling her arm to free it, but it was a slow process, not helped any by the fact there was not an inch of her own flesh not burning with mortification. It was bad enough that she already had a more intimate knowledge of his body than any books on social etiquette allowed. Now, to feel all that hard, smooth muscle sliding against her hand...well, it was almost more than she could hope to survive without turning as red as a beetroot.
    Making matters infinitely worse, she was close enough to count the individual stubbles of his beard if she were so inclined. The lashes she had admired earlier were so long and thick they would have been the envy of any woman. The eyebrows above were black and smooth, the left one marred by a tiny white scar that cut through the arch. The waves of hair that framed his face were blacker still, far too long and undisciplined to comply with strict London fashion, but then she doubted if a rogue and adventured cared much for the dictates of Beau Brummell. His mouth was blatantly, shockingly sensuous as well, and if he ever smiled the effect would be, she imagined, quite heart-stopping.
    “You have no idea how I came to be on the beach?”
    “What?” She was still staring at his mouth when she realized his eyes were open again. She quickly