“Hands behind your head, Doctor.”
Nathan clasped his hands behind his head.
A fury unlike anything she’d ever before experienced erupted in Victoria. Damnation, he was going to get away with this!
“Now, little lady,” her captor said, his hot breath by her ear, “you’re going to walk over to the doctor and lie facedown with yer hands behind your head, just like him. Make a sound or do anything other than that and I’ll sink this blade right between yer shoulder blades. And the doctor will be next.”
She’d never felt so helpless or filled with rage in her life. She longed to scream, struggle, but she feared he’d carry out his threat. Raised up on her toes as she was, she had no leverage to even stomp on his foot. But something inside wouldn’t allow her to do nothing. Perhaps if she could shove the note out of the thief’s reach, it would give Nathan a chance to act. In a blind attempt to do so, she kicked her leg to the side.
But at that precise instant her captor released her, shoving her roughly away from him. She stumbled forward, her boot catching on the hem of her gown. With an involuntary cry, she pitched forward, falling hard on her knees, breaking her fall with her hands. She skidded forward, landing on her stomach with a jarring thud, knocking the breath from her lungs.
She’d barely realized what had happened when gentle hands grasped her shoulders and turned her over. She looked up into Nathan’s face, his expression stark with worry.
“Victoria,” he said in a low, urgent voice, his gaze riveting on her throat while he yanked off his shirt. She touched her fingers to the stinging spot and felt warm stickiness.
“I’m bleeding.”
“Yes, I know. I need to see how badly.”
“Where is-”
“He’s gone.”
“But he has-”
“Shhhh. It doesn’t matter. Don’t worry.”
“But you must-”
“Take care of you. Don’t talk. Just tilt your head this way a bit for me… that’s it.” She felt him wipe something soft… must have been his shirt… against her stinging throat. “The cut is small,” he said in a calm voice tinged with relief. “I’m going to apply pressure to it to stop the bleeding. Stay still and relax.”
She remained still, although how she was supposed to relax remained a mystery, and watched him fold over a section of his shirt, which he gently but firmly pressed to the skin beneath her jaw. Holding the material in place with one hand, he turned his attention to the rest of her, examining the scrapes on her palms, then lifting her skirt to gently probe her sore knees. He then ran his hand over her, pressing here and there, asking if this or that hurt. This was an aspect of him she’d never seen-his professional side. His touch was that of a doctor seeing to a patient-tender, skillful and impersonal.
“Nothing serious,” he reported, giving her a reassuring smile. “You’ll be sore for a day or two, but I have some salve that will help.” His gaze shifted to her neck. “Now, let’s take another look at that cut.”
After slowly releasing the pressure, he removed the makeshift bandage. “The bleeding has nearly stopped.” He refolded his shirt then settled the material back against her neck. Taking her hand, he set it on the bandage. “Do you feel strong enough to apply pressure to that?”
“Of course. I’m not the hothouse flower you think I am.” She’d meant to sound firm, but to her mortification her bottom lip quivered and hot moisture pushed behind her eyes, both made worse by the tender smile he gave her.
“My darling Victoria, you are the bravest girl I’ve ever met.”
“I tried to be-”
“You were magnificent.”
A fat tear hovered on her lashes, blurring her vision then dribbling down her cheek. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not at all a weepy sort of female.” Another tear overflowed and she sniffled. “Really, I’m not.”
He brushed away the moisture with gentle fingers. “I know, sweetheart. You’re a warrior. But even warriors get the sniffles after a tough battle.”
“They do?”
“Absolutely.” And with that, he scooped her up into his arms.
“Wh-What are you doing?”
“Bringing you back to the house.” He started briskly down the path. “Hold on.”
Victoria wrapped her free arm around his neck, her hand settling on his warm, bare skin. “I can walk,” she felt compelled to protest.
“I know. But it makes me feel better to hold you, so humor me. Please.”
“Well, as long as you said ‘please.’” She sighed and snuggled closer to him, resting her cheek against his strong, warm shoulder. Her eyelids drooped, and suddenly she felt as if all her strength evaporated, leaving her exhausted. But not so exhausted that she couldn’t ask, “That man knew you. Did you know him?”
“No.”
“How do you suppose he found out about the letter?”
“I don’t know. And quite frankly, right now I’m more concerned with getting you properly seen to than I am about wondering about the bloody bastard who injured you. We can discuss this after I’ve treated you and you’re safely ensconced by a warm fire. For now, just concentrate on keeping pressure on that cut.”
She vaguely noted his ungentlemanly use of an obscenity, but since she felt so drained, she decided not to take issue with him.
When they arrived at the house, they were greeted by a stunned Langston. After assuring the wide-eyed butler that she wasn’t seriously injured, Nathan said tersely, “I need hot water, clean linen strips, and brandy delivered to my bedchamber immediately.” He then headed up the stairs.
“Your bedchamber?” Victoria said in a scandalized whisper. “You cannot bring me to your bedchamber.”
“The hell I can’t. It’s where my medical supplies are, and I’m not leaving you to fetch them.”
“I would be perfectly fine alone for a few moments.”
“No doubt. But I wouldn’t be. And there’s no point in arguing since we’ve already arrived.”
Nathan dipped his knees to open the door, which he purposely left ajar for propriety’s sake. Not that he cared a jot about propriety, but he didn’t want to cause Victoria any undue stress. Swiftly crossing the blue and maroon Axminster rug, he strode directly to his bed, where he gently lowered her to the counterpane.
“Keep the pressure on just a bit longer,” he said, keeping his features perfectly composed as he touched his fingers to her hand, which held his folded shirt to her neck. His shirt that bore crimson streaks of her blood. “I’m just going to get my medical bag and wash my hands.”
He walked to the ceramic pitcher and basin set in the corner next to the massive cherrywood wardrobe where he’d stored his medical bag. Although he hated to take his eyes off her for even a second, he kept his back to her while he poured water into the basin and scrubbed his hands with soap. God knows he needed a moment to compose himself.
Bloody hell, if he lived to be one hundred he would never forget the sickening sight of her with that knife held to her neck. The only time he’d ever come close to feeling such naked fear was when he found Gordon and Colin shot. And even that didn’t seem to compare with the stark terror he’d experienced watching that madman materialize seemingly from nowhere, detaching himself from the shadows behind her, that flash of lethal steel as he grabbed her. Her blood trailing down her neck to stain her gown.
His fault, damn it, his fault. He’d been too far away to protect her. Why had he let her out of his sight for even an instant? He’d thought she was right behind him. When he turned and discovered she wasn’t, he should have gone back. But he’d seen her in the next instant, walking toward him, and he stood and watched her approach, loving the way she moved. The look of her. And then the shock of that moving shadow-
He squeezed his eyes tightly shut to banish the nauseating image. Later. He could dwell on it later, along with the retribution he would hand that bastard when he found him. And he had every intention of finding him. Right no
w she needed a doctor.
A knock sounded and he turned to see Langston enter carrying a huge tray bearing a basin of steaming water, linen, and brandy. “On the bedside table, Dr. Nathan?”
“Yes.” Drying his hands, Nathan asked, “Where is Lady Delia?”
“In the drawing room with your father.”
“Good. I’ve no wish to alarm them, especially given the nonthreatening nature of Lady Victoria’s injuries. Give me a quarter hour to clean and dress her cuts, then I’ll come down and tell them myself.”
“Yes, Dr. Nathan.” Langston cleared his throat. “You might wish to don a shirt before you do so.”
Nathan looked down at his bare chest, nonplussed. “Good idea. Thank you.”
With a nod, the butler quit the room, leaving the door ajar. Nathan opened the wardrobe, grabbed his medical bag in one hand and a folded, clean shirt with the other, then crossed to the bed. He looked down at Victoria’s pale face, and his chest constricted at the sight. Summoning his professional mien, he set his medical bag on the floor next to the bed and offered her his best doctorly smile.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, shrugging into his shirt.
“A bit sore,” she admitted with a wan smile. “Thirsty.”
After hastily tucking in his shirttails, he poured her a generous finger of brandy. Hoisting a hip onto the edge of the bed, he held the glass to her lips. “Sip this.”
She obediently sipped, then wrinkled her nose. “Blech. That is absolutely wretched.”
“Actually, given my father’s taste in brandy and the fact that I, um, found numerous cases of Napoleon’s finest, I suspect it’s really excellent brandy.”
She raised a brow. “Found? Where does one find cases of French brandy?”
He shrugged and adopted his most innocent expression. “Oh, here and there,”
“Hmmm. Well, if this is the finest Napoleon could do, no wonder he was exiled.”
A laugh rumbled in Nathan’s throat, a welcome relief from the tension gripping him. “It may not be to your taste, but it will help relieve your aches and pains, so sip.”
She shot him a potent glare, but obeyed. When the glass was empty, she said, “That vile stuff will burn a hole in my stomach.”
“How lucky that I’m a doctor and can cure you.”
“You‘re the one who caused the problem by making me drink it.”
“And never let it be said that I don’t fix any affliction I’ve caused.” He set the empty glass aside and soaked a handful of linen strips in the steaming water. “Now, if you’ll cooperate and let me do my job, I shall be most appreciative.”
She eyed him with a sudden combination of suspicion and trepidation. “How appreciative?”
“Appreciative enough to arrange for a dinner tray and a hot, soothing bath in your bedchamber. How does that sound?”
“Lovely. It’s just that…”
He squeezed the water from the linen strips. “What?”
“I don’t much care for doctors.” The words came out in a rush.
He nodded gravely. “Oh, neither do I. Nasty old men with cold hands who jab and prod exactly where it hurts.”
“Precisely!”
“How fortunate for you that I am neither nasty nor old, my hands are never cold, and I would throw myself into the Thames before I would ever hurt you.”
A bit of the tension left her eyes, but she still looked nervous. “I’m not certain how comforting that is, given your obvious predilection for splashing about in the water.”
“Lake water, yes. Thames River water? Absolutely not.” He gently removed her hand from the soiled linen she still pressed to her neck. “What happened to my brave, fierce warrior woman of the forest?”
“Perhaps she’s not as brave as you thought.”
“Nonsense. She is courage personified.” As he spoke, he gently bathed away the dried blood, relieved to see that the bleeding had completely ceased. “And she has my permission to cosh me with the decanter if during the course of my duties I displease her in any way.”
“Agreed.”
“And very quickly agreed, I see. However, no coshing until my duties have been completed. Now tell me your thoughts about the ruffian who absconded with our note.”
“Absconded? I’m not certain that correctly describes what happened. It seemed you gave up the note very willingly.” Her tone sounded faintly accusatory.
“I most certainly did. Seeing as how his knife could have cut through your neck in an instant, I thought it best.” After applying salve to her cut, he turned his attention to her scraped hands.
“I didn’t know you carried the letter with you.”
“I wanted to keep it safe.”
An unladylike snort escaped her. “Clearly you should have picked a different spot.”
He cocked a brow and dabbed at her palms. “Are you upset with me?”
“Do you really want to know?”
“Of course.”
“Well then, yes, I am upset. Or at least disappointed. You did nothing to stop that man! I thought spies knew all sorts of tricks and maneuvers to disarm and outwit their opponents. Yet you simply did everything he asked and now he has the note and map.”
“And your head is still attached to your shoulders. Which would you think is more important to me?”
She instantly looked chastened. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful. I’m just concerned that he’ll find the jewels before we do.”
“I don’t think so. At least not with the letter and map he has.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the letter and map he possesses will send him on what is fondly referred to in the Official Spy Handbook as ‘The Wild Goose Chase.’ ” He eased her skirts up to bathe her knees.
“But… but how?”
“I wrote a false letter containing wrong information. Drew a fake map clearly depicting the Isles of Scilly, which lay twenty-eight miles off the coast of Lands End.” He shrugged. “That should keep him far enough away from here until we conclude our investigation using the real note and map, which are perfectly safe, by the way.”
She stared at him, clearly taken aback, then her expression changed to a combination of admiration and pure chagrin.
“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “It would appear I owe you an apology.”
“Well, if you really feel it’s necessary-”
“Oh, I do.” Gazing up at him, she said softly, “I’m sorry, Nathan. I should have known you’d be unsurpassedly brilliant.”
“Hmmm. Yes, you should have.” He smiled and lightly massaged the healing ointment into her palm.
“I feel like a complete fool. The reason I tripped was because I was attempting to kick the note out of his reach. I thought that might give you the opportunity to retrieve your knife or somehow subdue him. I didn’t know you had everything under control.”
He barely swallowed the humorless laugh that rose in his throat. Under control? He’d never felt more helpless in his life.
“Of course, you might have told me about the fake note in the boot ploy,” she said. “But regardless, you saved my life.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles. “My hero. Thank you.”
He brushed his fingertips lightly over her jaw. “You’re welcome. Glad to know you’re not disappointed I beat the enemy with my brain rather than my brawn. But mark my words, when I see that bastard again, he will pay dearly for touching you. For hurting you.”
A shudder ran through her. “I hope never to see him again. I’ve never been so frightened in my life.”
Never been so frightened? That makes two of us. He lowered her skirts to cover her knees. “I’m finished with my treatments. How do you feel?”
“Finished? Already?” She flexed her hands, bent her knees, and wiggled her jaw. “I feel very much improved.”
“Excellent.”
Her eyes narrowed, but amusement glittered in her gaze. “You tricked me.”
He a
dopted an expression of innocent shock. “I?”
“You distracted me from your ministrations by urging me to talk.”
“Did I? It’s been my observation that you seem to require very little encouragement to chatter away.”
“Hmmm. Very clever. And effective. My aunt told me she thought you’d have an excellent bedside manner. I shouldn’t have doubted her, as she has always proven to be uncannily correct in her assessments.”
“Then I thank you both for the compliment,” he said lightly. “As for the rest of your treatment, you’re to allow the salve I applied to soak in for the next two hours, during which time you will remain in bed and eat dinner. Then you shall have your promised warm bath, after which the salve needs to be reapplied. Then it’s off to bed for you. Agreed?”
“Yes, Doctor.”
“Excellent. A docile patient.”
“I’m nothing of the sort. I’m simply pretending to be to repay your kindness.”
“I see.” He put his supplies away, then firmly closed his medical bag. The instant he’d done so, he reached for the brandy decanter.
Victoria shook her head. “Oh, no. Not again. I’m not drinking any more of that foul brew.”
“Not to worry. This one is for me.” He poured himself two fingers and tossed it back in a single gulp. Closing his eyes, he savored the fire heating its way to his belly and allowed his tense muscles to relax. When he opened his eyes, he set aside the glass. Lightly clasping her shoulders, he looked steadily into her eyes.
“Now that my doctor duties have been completed, I want you to know that there is no kindness for you to repay. The fact that you were injured is entirely my fault.”
“It is nothing of the sort-”
“Entirely my fault, Victoria. Your father sent you to me to protect. I failed today. But I give you my word I will not fail again.”
Her gaze softened and she pressed her palm against his cheek. “You didn’t fail, Nathan.”
Not Quite A Gentleman Page 22
