It reminded me of the bird he’d rescued as a child from one of the house cats. On his insistence, the gamekeeper helped him build a cage for it. I had been jealous that he had a pet, but instead of saying so, I pretended to be absolutely bored by it. He had rescued a fawn too when its mother had died. Everyone said it was a miracle that the fawn had lived and attributed it to Rowan.
When Rowan ran his finger down the back of my hand, I had to speak to break the mounting tension between us. “Do you still care for injured animals?”
He looked down at me, surprise lighting his face. I suppose I deserved it after ignoring him for so many days strung together.
He went back to examining my hand. “I haven’t done that for some years. My last patient was a red squirrel. I still have a scar on my leg from his nasty bite. You can imagine why my parents forced me to stop.”
I managed a small smile but winced as he lifted up my sleeve a few inches. “Do you think it’sbroken?” I asked.
“It could be a bad sprain. It’s starting to swell, so I cannot be sure. We’ll get the doctor to look at it when we return to the house.” He pulled my sleeve back down and gave me a comforting smile.
I was not used to looking at anyone at this close angle, but especially not at Rowan. Drat his tanned skin and handsome, disheveled hair. Didn’t the man wear a hat? I turned my head so I could not see him, but my face went into his shirt. His personal scent mixed with the soap used to launder his shirt nearly overwhelmed me. I whipped my face straight again. This day could not possibly get any worse.
“You’ll have to ride with me,” he said.
I was wrong. It was about to get much worse. I groaned at the thought.
“Has the pain grown more severe? Do you have another injury?”
Should I tell him about all the wayshemade me suffer? It should be a sin for an ill-mannered man to smell so wonderful. And it should be an ever-greater sin for him to suddenly turn gentle and entirely confuse a woman.
“I don’t think anything else is broken.” I had tested my toes and ankles to be certain. “But I would not be surprised if every inch of me has bruises.”
“I understand. When my carriage tipped outside of Quillsbury, I felt as if I’d been slammed into a mountain. Except I had the benefit of a padded carriage wall for my accident, where you did not.” He scooped up my head again. “I am going to help you slowly sit up.” His arm slid beneath me until I was in a sitting position. “Is the world spinning?”
I glanced at him, and my nose grazed his chin. Spinning was a most accurate description of the sudden whirl in my middle, but I did not think he meant my personal world, but the world at large. “No, everythingis clear.”
“Excellent. Cradle your wrist to your stomach so I do not jar it, and we’ll try standing.” Just as I moved to protect my hand, he shifted himself and lifted me to my feet. “Do you feel steady?”
“I think so.”
“Blast,” he said. “Your leg is bleeding.”
I glanced down, and sure enough, my dress had a dark smear down the side of my leg. “I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks. It stings, but I can put weight on it.” Before I finished my last word, Rowan swooped me up into his arms. Instinctively, I threw my good arm around him. “What are you doing?”
“Carrying you to my horse. And don’t bother arguing because I am not putting you down.”
When he reached his horse, with unfathomable strength, he set me on his saddle. I stared down at him completely baffled. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
His face screwed into one of exasperation. “I don’t know who you think I am, but I am not a monster.”
I dipped my chin. He might not be a monster, but he had said a few unforgivable things about me over the years, not to mention my writing—and an author’s words were carved from her soul. He was my first and harshest critic, and I refused to let him be my last.
“Never mind,” he said. “Please, do not answer that. I think I can well imagine what you think of me.”
He took the reins and dragged them in front of his horse and began leading us toward Elmhurst. Did he intend to walk the entire way? We were at least three miles from home. I held my tongue. Nothing would bring me to complain. Since the alternative was him pressed up against my back on a saddle meant for one, I was content to let him walk ten miles if he had to.
His horse stepped over a rock, and I started to slip off the saddle. Shrieking, I clambered to hold on with my injured hand. Pain jolted up my arm, and I cried out again.
Rowan dropped the reins and was beside me in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m slipping!”
“Dash it all. I thought I could avoid this.” He shifted me back into the saddle and seconds later swung himself up behind me. “Before you object, this is the only solution at present.”
I was about to suggest I walk, but my hand and wrist were throbbing, and I wanted to return home as fast as possible. With my good arm, I snagged the reins for him and let him wrap his arms around my person. A soft whimper fell from my lips.
“Are you well?” he asked. “Do you need to rest again before we proceed?”