Read Online The Duchess and the Dragon by Jamie Carie - Free Book Online
Authors: Jamie Carie
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took a long, shaking breath and seemed to sink into a deeper sleep. Her hand trailed down his neck toward his chest—
She froze. What was she doing? She wanted to touch him, and the urge had no connection to nursing. What was wrong with her? She stood, but again his hand shot out and grasped her wrist.
“Stay with me.” The words croaked past dry lips.
Serena sat back down, easily conquered, reaching for the water jug for something to do. Pouring cool, clean water into the tin cup, she lifted his head to drink.
“Yes, I will stay by thy side if thou wilt drink.”
He drank more this time and then dropped back onto the pillow with a sigh. She sat beside him, hands clasped in her lap to keep them from touching his face and hair, allowing herself only to watch him sleep. Her gaze fell on his lips, and she remembered the ointment in her basket. She bit her lower lip. Dare she?
A small smile formed on the man’s mouth, and Serena reared back. Could he read her mind? Of course not, she chided herself. He was probably just feeling better—he’d certainly needed the water he had been able to ingest. Slowly, so as not to disturb his sleep, she leaned toward the basket on the floor and rummaged through it until her fingers wrapped around a little clay pot. It was in her lap and opened before she realized she had made her decision. She looked down at the ointment. Normally, she would have given it to the patient and allowed him to apply it himself, but this man clearly could not manage that. She dipped her finger into the pot before she could convince herself otherwise, the soothing smells of lemon and beeswax filling the space around them. Her hand stretched out toward his face, her heart pounding. What if he woke? How would she explain what she was doing?
She dabbed a bit on his lower lip and sat back to see what response he would have. Nothing. He slept on. She nodded. She was a nurse; she could do this. Leaning in again, she quickly spread the ointment across his bottom lip. He moved his head away, as if avoiding a fly, but didn’t wake. Determined to finish the job, she reached for the upper lip, which wasn’t quite as chapped. It was softer and curved, dark rose in color with an indention in the middle that must be sinful, it was so well shaped. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath quickened as she spread the ointment across the top of his upper lip. She halted, realizing how close she had leaned in, how deep her breathing had become . . .
When had she closed her eyes? Heaven help her, she wanted to kiss him.
“You can, you know.”
At first she didn’t know if the deep voice had come from the man or some other being in the room, so deep and quiet and inside her head it was. Her eyelids shot open as she straightened. “Can what?”
“Kiss me.” He smiled, but didn’t open his eyes.
Serena gasped, “Thee has been awake this entire time, sir?”
One of his shoulders lifted. “I didn’t think it would help my cause—” he paused pressing his lips together, as though struggling to stay conscious—“for you to realize that.” Then he appeared to drop back into a deep sleep.
Serena shot to her feet, escaping her temptation and the moment, moving away from the bed to create as much distance as she could while still seeing his face. She had to get away from this man before she did . . . something . . .
As she turned, her cheeks on fire, she saw that Mary Ann was coming down the steps with the midwife. “Serena, the soul-drivers are here! They asked about these in the hold, and I did not know what to tell them. I said thee wouldst talk to them.”
Soul-drivers. The name alone caused her dread. Heartless men who gathered those to be indentured off the ships and drove them house to house, farm to farm, until they were all sold. They took no regard for families, splitting children from mothers, husbands from wives. Nor did they regard humanity, scarcely feeding or caring for those who’d just
She froze. What was she doing? She wanted to touch him, and the urge had no connection to nursing. What was wrong with her? She stood, but again his hand shot out and grasped her wrist.
“Stay with me.” The words croaked past dry lips.
Serena sat back down, easily conquered, reaching for the water jug for something to do. Pouring cool, clean water into the tin cup, she lifted his head to drink.
“Yes, I will stay by thy side if thou wilt drink.”
He drank more this time and then dropped back onto the pillow with a sigh. She sat beside him, hands clasped in her lap to keep them from touching his face and hair, allowing herself only to watch him sleep. Her gaze fell on his lips, and she remembered the ointment in her basket. She bit her lower lip. Dare she?
A small smile formed on the man’s mouth, and Serena reared back. Could he read her mind? Of course not, she chided herself. He was probably just feeling better—he’d certainly needed the water he had been able to ingest. Slowly, so as not to disturb his sleep, she leaned toward the basket on the floor and rummaged through it until her fingers wrapped around a little clay pot. It was in her lap and opened before she realized she had made her decision. She looked down at the ointment. Normally, she would have given it to the patient and allowed him to apply it himself, but this man clearly could not manage that. She dipped her finger into the pot before she could convince herself otherwise, the soothing smells of lemon and beeswax filling the space around them. Her hand stretched out toward his face, her heart pounding. What if he woke? How would she explain what she was doing?
She dabbed a bit on his lower lip and sat back to see what response he would have. Nothing. He slept on. She nodded. She was a nurse; she could do this. Leaning in again, she quickly spread the ointment across his bottom lip. He moved his head away, as if avoiding a fly, but didn’t wake. Determined to finish the job, she reached for the upper lip, which wasn’t quite as chapped. It was softer and curved, dark rose in color with an indention in the middle that must be sinful, it was so well shaped. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath quickened as she spread the ointment across the top of his upper lip. She halted, realizing how close she had leaned in, how deep her breathing had become . . .
When had she closed her eyes? Heaven help her, she wanted to kiss him.
“You can, you know.”
At first she didn’t know if the deep voice had come from the man or some other being in the room, so deep and quiet and inside her head it was. Her eyelids shot open as she straightened. “Can what?”
“Kiss me.” He smiled, but didn’t open his eyes.
Serena gasped, “Thee has been awake this entire time, sir?”
One of his shoulders lifted. “I didn’t think it would help my cause—” he paused pressing his lips together, as though struggling to stay conscious—“for you to realize that.” Then he appeared to drop back into a deep sleep.
Serena shot to her feet, escaping her temptation and the moment, moving away from the bed to create as much distance as she could while still seeing his face. She had to get away from this man before she did . . . something . . .
As she turned, her cheeks on fire, she saw that Mary Ann was coming down the steps with the midwife. “Serena, the soul-drivers are here! They asked about these in the hold, and I did not know what to tell them. I said thee wouldst talk to them.”
Soul-drivers. The name alone caused her dread. Heartless men who gathered those to be indentured off the ships and drove them house to house, farm to farm, until they were all sold. They took no regard for families, splitting children from mothers, husbands from wives. Nor did they regard humanity, scarcely feeding or caring for those who’d just
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