Read Online The Riddle of the Reluctant Rake by Patricia Veryan - Free Book Online Page B

Miss Hall. Another half-hour out in that blizzard, and neither of us would have seen tomorrow. Providentially, here we are, with a roof over our heads and a fire on the hearth. And your cousin was so good as to leave these few sticks of furniture, which are better than nought, eh?” While talking easily, he had put aside her pelisse and started to unbutton her blouse. “You have managed to take a pistol ball across your arm, and unless you wish to bleed to death I must—”
    â€œLet be,” she half-sobbed. “Just—just cut the sleeve off. Please.”
    â€œI wish I might. But I need the blouse for bandages, since I fancy you do not wear petticoats under that very fine riding habit.”
    â€œOf course I don’t!” she said impatiently, “How on earth could—Oh, I collect you are trying to reassure me, but—Now what are you doing? Ow!”
    He had bent closer to slide an arm under her. “You see? You’re hurting yourself.” She was warm and fragrant against him as he raised her, and fumbling at her back, his cheek came into contact with soft, satiny skin. He muttered, “Now—if I can just—”
    â€œOh, heavens above! Close your eyes! Don’t look! ”
    Furiously embarrassed, he snapped, “For heaven’s sake, don’t be so missish! I have no designs upon your virtue, I promise you!”
    She said faintly, “You likely said the same to … to poor Alice!”
    Despite the brave words there were tears on her long lashes. She was certainly in pain, and she really was a courageous chit. He reached for his cloak and handed it to her, closing his eyes obediently. “Here. Cover yourself, Lady Modesty, but I must be free to come at your arm.” He waited while she strove and muttered to herself, then asked, “Are you respectable at last?”
    â€œAs far as—as possible.”
    Those great scared eyes were fixed on him. He said, “Be easy, ma’am,” but he could imagine her state of mind, if she really believed he had done away with her cousin. He slid the blouse down over the handkerchief he had wrapped around her upper left arm, tore the blouse into strips and fashioned a pad, but when he began to ease his clumsy bandage away, he found that his hands were trembling. He had seen hideous wounds on the battlefield, and several times had acted as a makeshift surgeon to aid a stricken comrade. This was only a flesh wound, but to see a woman’s white flesh so cruelly torn horrified him. Miss Hall flinched and drew in her breath. “I wish I had some brandy,” he muttered.
    â€œFor—for you, sir? Or—for me?”
    He glanced at her, and saw a faint twinkle in her eyes.
    â€œBoth,” he said with a grin.
    After he had sweated his way through some long minutes of bathing the wound, she asked, “Have you ever done—this sort of thing—before?”
    â€œAre you questioning my credentials? I wish I could say I had not, but war being what it—”
    She gave a little whimper, and he recoiled. “Oh, God! I am so sorry to have to hurt you. But—at least it is a shallow wound. You’ve no bones broken.”
    She said threadily, “You look worse than … than I feel.”
    â€œYou are very brave,” he said, wishing he had some basilicum powder or anything that would serve as an antiseptic. The wound was clean now, at least, and the bleeding much lessened. He told her he would bind it up tightly, and that at first light she would be taken to a doctor.
    She did not answer. Her eyes were closed. He thought she had swooned again, and he put the pad in place, then proceeded to bandage the injury as tightly as he dared.
    Miss Hall opened her eyes abruptly. She appeared to be momentarily confused, and uttered incoherent cries as she struggled to sit up. Adair’s cloak slid to the floor, revealing the dainty and very well-filled bodice of a