Gavin glanced back as he snapped the reigns, frowning at the poor sod. The crash had done real damage. The man writhed in pain, his skin mangled from the splintered wood. The leg, however, seemed intact. Gavin had seen men survive worse. Then again, some had died with less.
The girl who’d literally fallen into his house had said this was her brother. He believed it. Same dark hair, light eyes, and pale skin. He’d dispatched one of the grooms before he left to fetch the doctor at Seacrest Village, and with luck he would arrive at the manor around the same time they did. The question he needed to answer now, what was he to do with two unexpected guests?
The problem was that he was meant to host a rather delicate affair at his home in just two days’ time. And by delicate, he actually meant debaucherous. Several of his bachelor friends were set to arrive, bringing with them ladies of a certain professional nature. Even after all this time, his lip curled in slight distaste. He’d been a married man once, and he understood how much more fulfilling a relationship with a woman was versus a quick tup with a hired professional. One couldn’t help but question who else might have laid his hands, or more precisely poked his parts, in the same place he was.
But after his wife’s death, he couldn’t bring himself to commit to anyone or anything. And he hadn’t been with a woman in…had it really been two years? Bollocks. So he’d allowed one his former compatriots to arrange this gathering. An act of desperation, and one he’d questioned every minute since he’d agreed to it. He should have called the damn thing off weeks ago.
“Is it much further?” the man in the back managed to say through clenched teeth.
He had grit. Gavin could give him that. “Almost there.”
“Dahlia? Is she all right?”
Dahlia. Pretty name for the drowned rat that had landed on his oriental carpet. He wondered how old the girl was. Dripping wet and in a heap, she’d appeared no more than fourteen or fifteen. “She’s fine. Drying by a fire and warming with tea. She’ll be glad to see you, which should be momentarily.” They came up to the gate and one of the grooms jumped out to open the large iron door.
“Good,” the other man grunted. “Our parents are gone. We only have each other.”
Gavin’s mouth pulled taut as he glanced back at the bloodied leg. He truly hoped the man survived. It was a tough business being a woman alone in this world. “Don’t worry about her. It’s you we’ve got to get patched up.”
“I’m Samuel Smith,” Sam said between clenched teeth. “Thank you for your help.”
“Think nothing of it,” Gavin replied, pulling the carriage up to the front door. “Now let’s get you inside.”
Sam nodded. “Take care of Dahlia too, would you? It’s her I’m worried about.”
Gavin gave a curt nod, not sure exactly what he was agreeing to, but he couldn’t say no to the man in his current state. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder. Had he just been sidled with a girl?
Chapter Two
Dahlia stood by the fire, taking a short repose from her pacing. She’d warmed enough to shed her brother’s coat, but her dress was still wet and her hair so hopelessly ruined that she’d pulled the pins out and set them on the mantel. The long strands would dry more quickly left loose about her shoulders.
Her fingers dug into the rich mahogany as she stared into the flames. What was happening? Was Sam all right? Pushing off the wood, she began to pace again.
The two of them had depended on each other since their parents had passed away three years prior. Disease had ravaged the streets of London. She still remembered the fear as though it were a scent in the air. They’d stayed in their home, barely leaving as people around them had succumbed to the coughing plague. When her mother had become ill, her father had taken her to a sanitarium, staying by her side, despite the risks. Sam had had to come home from school to care for Dahlia in his stead. Their father had promised it would only be temporary but, in the end, they’d both perished.
Her chest tightened. What if Sam didn’t survive? She’d seen far too much of the cruel, indifferent nature of the world to fool herself. It was a possibility. Sam wasn’t just her provider, he was her family and her best friend. She’d be lost without him.
The door opened, the heavy wood banging against the wall as men’s voices rang out in the hall.
“Get him upstairs. Charlie, fetch some sheers. Stan, hot water and clean clothes.”
Dahlia raced to the door of the front parlor as four men carried her brother, flat on a wooden slab, into the house. The man she’d met was in front, continuing to issue orders. The butler had referred to him as “my lord.” Clearly, this was his house. He was the wolf.
“Jarvis, see that the doctor is shown upstairs as soon as he arrives.” They began to carry her brother up the stairs. She froze, fear seizing her muscles as she stared at her brother’s bloody leg. The wound looked awful. She began to tremble again, though it had little to do with the cold.
“Of course, my lord,” the butler answered from the other side of the foyer.
“My sister.” Sam gasped from the slab. “Where is she?”
His voice brought her back to life and she drew in a sharp breath. “I’m here!” she called from the doorway. Sam lifted his head and somehow, looking into his eyes eased the tension building inside her. She stepped out from the doorway and began to follow the group up the stairs.
Strictly speaking, she hadn’t been invited but she would not be denied. In this moment, all that mattered was her brother. She needed to be with him now.
The progress was slow as the men grunted, moving so that the slab remained stable as they went up. Blood dripped from the side of the wood, and all the tension that had drained from her returned as her fingers curled into fists. She held back a scream, her fists covering her mouth.
The men finally reached the top of the stairs and picked up speed as they moved down the hall and entered a room on the left. Dahlia followed.
Another man raced past her, sewing sheers in hand. For a brief second, she stopped in fear but then, heart racing, she lifted her skirts and chased after him.
Reaching the open door, the lord of the house was already cutting the clothes from her brother’s leg, the slab lay on the floor next to a bed. Two other man carefully removed his boots. As the mangled leather slid from his right leg, everyone stopped. Dahlia held her breath.
“Well, I’d say you might be the luckiest chap alive,” their host said. “It seems your boot took the worst of it.”
“Lucky?” she whispered from the door. “Are you certain?”
All eyes turned to her. The lord of the manor stood staring at her with those dark penetrating eyes. Then he stepped toward her, blocking her view of her brother.
“Come with me,” he said and reached for her arm. His fingers were warm and sure as they wrapped about her arm above her elbow and pulled her back out into the hall.
Gavin wanted to swear a string of curses from here to the village. Dahlia, if he remembered her name correctly, stumbled behind him and he slowed his pace. Her dress was still wet and cold under his, but the flesh was achingly soft. Her dark mane of glistening hair brushed his wrist and every muscle in his arms and chest tightened. He clenched his teeth against this most unwelcome and unexpected response.
The moment he’d seen her standing in the doorway staring at her brother, candlelight reflecting off her skin, he’d realized his mistake. While she was petite, she was most definitely not a girl. Her damp dress clung to every curve of her body, giving all the men in that room a view of just how womanly she truly was. Breasts that weren’t overly large but full enough to fill a man’s palm.
A tiny waist, the kind he could wrap his fingers around and the flair of her hips… his eyes closed. He really had gone far too long without a woman.
“Is everything all right?” Her husky voice was choked with concern.
“Damnation,” he muttered. He’d frightened her. What a cad he was. She was startled at his curse and
the tremble of fear that came from her reverberated through his hand. He needed to set her at ease, or at least try. “My apologies for cursing and for worrying you.” He took a deep breath. “Your brother’s injuries are less serious than I first feared. The skin above the boot was sliced open but the thick leather protected a great deal of his lower leg. Provided that infection doesn’t set in, his chances are very good.”
She slumped, her weight relaxing into his grasp as she let out a long sigh. Then, without warning, she collapsed against his chest. “Thank the Lord,” she murmured into his shirt.
Feeling her face pressed against him with nothing but a shirt between their skin held an intimacy he hadn’t experienced in such a long time. Blood rushed through his body, settling in his member. Carefully, he reached for her other arm and gently pulled her from his chest, making sure her weight was still supported but that there was some measure of distance between them. She was achingly soft and so vulnerable. “I’m relieved too, but be cautious in your optimism. There is still risk.”
Footsteps pounded down the hall as more of the servants raced to the room with hot water and rags. He turned them both so that he blocked their view of her. For some reason it bothered him to think of any other man seeing her like this.
She nodded her head, seemingly unaware of their shift in position. “I understand. Thank you for your help, Lord…”
“De Wolfe,” he answered, looking down at her upturned face. Her skin was a lovely shade of alabaster and her blue eyes positively sparkled in the candlelight. Her lush pink lips were parted, accentuating a small straight nose. And the hair…never had he seen a woman with such hair. Dark and full, it fell around her face in a mass of silky waves. The light danced off its surface, creating the illusion of a babbling brook. He longed to bury his fingers in it and wind the strands about his fists.
“Lord de Wolfe,” she murmured, testing his name, her lips plumping around the syllables. His vision blurred with the lust that now swept through his body.
“I should attend your brother’s wounds until the doctor arrives.” His voice came out rough and gravelly.
“Of course. I can help you.” she answered.
“No,” he answered rather too quickly. The thought of his grooms seeing her in these clinging wet clothes was rather more than he could tolerate. “You need to change out of those wet clothes. Jarvis can find something dry for you to put on. The last thing we need is for you to catch your death. One patient is all this house can stand.”
She gave a quick nod. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
He turned his head toward the grand staircase. “Jarvis,” he called, rather louder than was necessary.
The butler immediately started up the steps. “Yes, my lord?”
“Find something for our guest to wear immediately.” Slowly, he slid his hands down her arms and then away from her body. His fingers itched to touch her again, but he took a step away, and then another. “Jarvis will see to your needs. I’ll check on you shortly.”
He turned and started back to the bedroom to tend to her brother. He wanted to smack his own face. Dahlia was likely an innocent woman with a chaperone who was injured in his home under his care. These feelings of lust that were encroaching upon him were completely unwelcome.
Not just for her, but for himself as well. He didn’t want to feel this for any woman and certainly not an innocent one. Of course, if she were experienced, that would be a different matter entirely.
But he doubted very much she was. She’d been ignorant of his reaction to her and she still looked young and fresh. Of all the women, why’d it have to be her? And why now? He rubbed his head. No, he couldn’t think on it at this moment. Her brother needed his full attention.
Gavin closed his eyes, pausing in the door of the room. He was all too familiar with how a wound that looked innocent enough could soon turn ugly. His wife, Amelia, had fallen from her horse. She’d appeared fine, except that her ribs had pained her.
The doctor had been called and he’d declared her fit. Perhaps some bruising. Two days later, she was gone. Just like that, ripped from his life.
His gut clenched. No matter what he owed to the title, he couldn’t go through something like that again. Amelia hadn’t been a love match. Their union had been arranged. A matter of selecting the woman with the best connections, the right family, the fullest dowry. But he’d still cared. And that caring had grown into a deep and binding love. One that still plagued him. She’d been his to protect and on that front he’d failed her. The loss and the loneliness that followed had been too much to handle. He could not open himself like that again.
“Dip two of the rags in the boiling water,” he ordered. Since Amelia, he’d read every medical journal he could find and ordered a great deal more. They differed, of course, but he had learned that cleaning a wound was critical to staving off infection and the hotter the water, the better. With that in mind, and knowing this was going to hurt like the bloody blue blazes, he started rolling up his sleeves.
“Sam,” he said, taking one hot rage and cleaning his hands. “I’m going to have to disinfect the wound.”
Sam nodded. “I understand.”
“It’s going to hurt,” Gavin tossed his rage aside. “Do you want something to bite down on?”
Sam shook his head. “No. I’ll be fine.”
“Clench your teeth, then.” Gavin slowly moved the injured leg off the bed and placed an empty bucket underneath it. The water wasn’t hot enough to burn his skin but it was going to be very uncomfortable.
“I’ll hold his hand,” Stanley, his groom, offered, dropping to his knees and locking hands with Sam.
“Good,” Gavin nodded, picking up the bucket of hot water. “It’s cooled enough that I won’t do more damage, but we have to clean the open skin.”
Sam nodded as he drew in a deep breath.
Gavin lifted the bucket and slowly began to dump the water over the open wound. Sam let out a low moan but he kept the water going, washing the dirt and debris from the slice on the man’s leg. Then he took the clean rag and dipped it in the remaining water, carefully using it to wipe anything away that hadn’t washed out.
He worked slowly and methodically, careful to not hurt the man more than was necessary. He didn’t think stitching would be required but it was difficult to tell with the swelling. Sam might have broken a bone, but if so, the break was minimal. The leg wasn’t at an odd angle. All good signs.
Finally, he used a clean, dry cloth to wipe off the excess water and Sam let out another loud groan. “Thank the saints that’s over,” he gritted out.
A feminine voice called from the door. “Sam? What’s happening? Are you all right? I can hear your cries of pain in the other room.”
Gavin looked up. Dahlia stood in the door, wearing a pair of groom’s pants and a shirt. Her feet were bare and her hair was still undone. Despite the clothes, she looked nothing like a boy. In fact, somehow, this ensemble was even more tempting to him than the wet dress had been. The pants hugged her curves and even from his angle, he could see the fullness of her derriere.
“Damnation,” he muttered again. The woman was going to drive him mad.
Chapter Three
His lordship had placed Dahlia in the room next to her brother’s. She’d been so concerned at her brother’s sudden cries of pain, she’d raced out of the chamber she’d been dressing in without a thought to her appearance.
That had been a mistake. Dahlia heard Lord de Wolfe swear and she tore her gaze from her brother to their host. His penetrating gaze travelled down the length of her, from her wild hair all the way to her bare feet.
Drat. Lord de Wolfe wasn’t the sort of man to which a woman could remain immune. In fact, he positively exuded the sort of male prowess that made her heart beat wildly. Or perhaps that was just the dire circumstances in which they now found themselves? Perhaps it was just the after-effects of all that happened this evening.
No, it was most decide
dly him. In a situation that had been completely out of control, he’d effortlessly stepped in, taking the entire affair in hand with his broad shoulders and his achingly muscular chest. Who wouldn’t find such confidence attractive? Or such a chest?
“I’m fine, Dahlia,” her brother called from the bed. “Please pay it no mind and go back to wherever you just came from.”
She gave a nod and returned to her room, heat filling her cheeks. Foolish girl. She needed to keep her emotions in check. Lord de Wolfe was the only lifeline she had now that her brother was in bed.
Sam had inherited a small sum, which had allowed him to finish his education, and he’d been studying to be a barrister.
She thought back to the day they’d learned that their parents had left the money.
“Oh Sam,” she’d clapped. “This means you can finish school.”
He’d given her a strange smile, that had been sad about the eyes. “That’s kind of you, Dahlia, but I can’t.”
She’d tilted her head. “Why not?”
He’d reached for her hand. “It would take nearly every penny of this money. There would be very little to live.”
She’d shaken her head, squeezing his hand. “That’s all right. Once you’re able to get a job we’ll have all we need.”
“Dahlia,” he said as he leaned closer, his gaze holding hers. “There would be no money to secure your future. No dowry to speak of. No dresses for parties.”
She’d drawn in a breath. He was right, of course. But she was too. “You’ll provide for my future after yours is secured.”
“I can’t—”
She’d let go of his hand to hold hers up. “We’re only going to survive this together. We work as a team. I have every confidence you will do for me what I am doing for you now.”
In the end, he’d agreed. Dahlia had never questioned that decision until today.
His schooling was complete, but their funds were nearly gone. Fortunately for them, Sam had secured a position with a nearby lord and so they’d hired a carriage with the last of their money and packed up their lives, leaving London and all its memories behind. This was their new start, their chance to make a better life.
To Want a Rogue: De Wolfe Pack Connected World Page 2
