My Seductive Innocent (7 page)

“Physician,” he mumbled.

Sophia nodded. “Dr. Porter is coming.” She started to straighten but Nathan grasped her hand. The unnatural clamminess of his skin made her heart stutter, but she tried not to show her fear.

His brows furrowed, as if he was searching for what he wanted to say. “Funny. Not ready to die.”

His voice, which had been so deep and confident only hours ago, came out hoarse and weak. Sophia blinked back threatening tears. She didn’t really know the man but sadness for him overwhelmed her. She squeezed his hand, even though his eyes were already closing, and said in a soothing voice, “Of course you aren’t ready to die, for heaven’s sake. You’re the Duke of Scarsdale. You have a grand, wonderful life, I’m quite sure.”

She could have sworn his mouth thinned before his head flopped sideways and unconsciousness claimed him once again.

She bit down hard on her lip to stifle a cry and struggled to help Frank get Nathan out of the carriage and into the tavern. At this hour, men packed the main room, and all eyes turned to them. She refused to care what they thought; they did not matter. Saving a man’s life was more important than her reputation.

Anyway, she was going to London soon, and these men were likely already foxed. She’d be surprised if they recalled seeing her at all, unconscious man in her hands or not. For all they knew, this was one of Frank’s drinking cronies being hauled to the spare room to spend the night.

“Make way,” Frank shouted, snapping Sophia’s attention to him. “Move out of the way for the Duke of Scarsdale. He’s wounded and my daughter is taking
special
care of him,” Frank said, winking.

Sophia nearly lost her grip on Nathan’s legs. Now she knew what Frank was up to, the fool.

“Frank,” she hissed. “Your plan will not work!”

Frank didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he glanced around as they moved through the parted crowd and grinned as his eyes settled on Mr. Dalton who was leaning against the stairs and gaping at them. Sophia groaned. Mr. Dalton was married to the town’s biggest gossip. Frank’s scheming mind was turning rapidly if he’d thought far enough ahead to get him out here to witness whatever lies he intended to set up between her and Nathan.

Frank paused right in front of the man. “Say, Dalton, could ye fetch yer wife to come help Sophia? I’m sure she could use an extra hand.”

Sophia clenched her jaw and her fingers tightened around Nathan’s legs. “That won’t be necessary.”

Mr. Dalton looked to Frank, who gave her a glacial look that made her shiver.

“It’s necessary because I say it is. Understand, girl?” He fairly snarled the last word.

She refused to agree. Instead, she eyed Dalton to see if it would do any good to plead with him, but he ignored her and ran off to get his wife.

Frank bid a patron to help him carry Nathan up the stairs, and Sophia scrambled away to fetch hot water, clean rags, and brandy. She’d do what she could for Nathan before the physician arrived. By the time she reached the top of the stairs with her arms full of supplies and water sloshing over the sides of the bucket, she was panting and her heart was racing. She ran to the guest room and flew through the door, almost tripping over something on the floor. Glancing down, she grimaced at the sight of her bedroll shoved off to the side, but not far enough to prevent it being in the way of whoever entered the room.

Sophia frowned as she hooked the tip of her shoe under the bedroll and cleared it away from the door. She strode into the room, set the bucket down, and then moved to Nathan’s side. He took up the full length of the bed with his long, lean frame. His skin glistened with sweat, and his eyes raced back and forth under his lids.

Without acknowledging Frank, she said, “I know what you’re up to. I’ll not go along with it.”

Frank yanked her around to face him. “You’ll participate, girl, or I’ll sell that brother ye hold so dear to the chimney master today instead of generously waiting until he’s nine. Understand?”

Her gut twisted, and behind her, Nathan moaned. Fear for both Nathan’s and her brother’s lives danced down her spine. She heaved her arm loose and turned toward Nathan, whose eyes were fluttering open once again. Sinking down next to him, she locked her gaze with his wavering one. “Don’t worry. I know what to do.”

Frank loomed over her. “How do ye know what to do? Yer a stupid girl.”

She was smart enough not to tell Frank she’d been secretly reading books, some of them about medicine. She shrugged and twisted to answer Frank, in the hopes that Nathan would not overhear and become worried. “I’m simply soothing him,” she said in a low voice and then faced Nathan again.

His forehead wrinkled and he looked around, as if he was trying to place her and the room, and then his eyes slowly focused on her once again. He licked his cracked lips, spurring her to reach for the liquor and pour him a glass. She slid one hand under his head, her fingers brushing through his thick curls to hold him while she gently lifted his head and pressed the cup to his lips. “Drink,” she urged.

He took a long, slow sip and moved back slightly, letting her know to withdraw the cup. As she did, his lips lifted in a half-smile. “Trying to get me foxed to take advantage of me?”

Goodness, the man had audacity. Even wounded he was still worried she was trying to trap him into marriage. Speaking of...

She could feel Frank hovering, and she wished he would either go sit in the corner or actually help. “No, but I need to undress you,” she said to Nathan.

“I’ve heard that before.” His tone was an odd mixture of humor laced with pain.

The mental picture she got of him naked made her cheeks flame.

Behind her, Frank coughed. “I’ll just go fetch some water.”

“I already have water,” Sophia muttered through clenched teeth.

Frank locked his fingers around the bones of her shoulder. She bit her lip to keep from crying out in pain.

“I’ll get more,” Frank said. “Ye may need it.”

She didn’t bother responding. Frank was going to do what he wanted no matter what she said.

Once he was gone, she peered at Nathan again. “I’m just going to take off your coat, shirt, and cravat, all right?”

Laughter danced in his rapidly dulling eyes and pain twisted his lips. “That sounds rather boring.”

She shoved her embarrassment―and, truth be told, a little bit of curiosity—away. Leaning over him, she slid her arms under his back to get a good grip. When her chest brushed his, she gasped.

He half chuckled, half moaned. “This has to be the strangest seduction I’ve ever been subjected to.”

“I am not trying to seduce you,” she spat and yanked him upward. The low hiss that escaped him made her loosen her hold. “Push away from the bed with your good arm.”

He pressed with a loud grunt as she tugged with an equally loud one. They careened backward and tilted precariously to the left, but somehow, by the grace of God, did not fall over. They ended up sitting face-to-face on the bed, just as she’d intended. Nathan was no namby-pamby duke. He was solid and very heavy. Thick, corded muscle covered his back and rose under her fingertips as she grasped his arms to hold him in place.

“So it begins,” he teased in barely a whisper. His head came to rest on her shoulder and his warm exhalation tickled her neck. Her stomach fluttered as they sat there, pressed so close that you couldn’t slide a piece of foolscap between them.

Her heart thudded and the veins in her neck pulsed with each beat. Using the utmost care, she struggled to draw off his coat. The one grunt he made told her it hurt, but other than that, he was silent. Despite the cold room, perspiration trickled down her brow from her effort to hold him up, though that exertion was nothing compared to trying to get his shirt off at the same time.

She spent several minutes attempting to tilt him one way and then the next, but it was futile. Once she got him into a position she thought might do, she realized she needed to untuck his shirt first. She let out a string of Frank’s favorite expletives, which elicited a low chuckle from Nathan.

“My ears are burning,” he chided.

She snorted. “Somehow I doubt that.” Trying to avert her eyes, so as not to see too much, she reached into Nathan’s breeches at the tip of the waist and tugged at the fine material of his shirt.

With bashfulness burning her cheeks, she withdrew her hand from his breeches and let out a yelp when his warm hand came to rest over hers.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fret yourself. It’s not often a lady gets to stick her hands down a duke’s pants.” Heaven above! Had she really just said that? She wasn’t sure where the thoughts had come from. Clearing her throat, she added, “Almost done.” With care, she quickly removed his cravat, then glanced at his shirt. The slit near his collarbone exposed the top of his glistening chest. A knot formed in her throat. This was certainly not the way she had expected to see a man’s naked chest for the first time in her life, but so be it. “Can you raise your arms?”

“The one that doesn’t have a gaping hole in it,” he grumbled.

“Right, then.” She gently laid him back down, reached into her boot where she’d sheathed her dagger, and came up to kneel over him. “I bet you would have never thought to see a lady leaning over you with a dagger in her hands,” she joked, trying to relieve some of the tension. Now that Nathan’s coat was off and his blood-soaked shirt was visible, her stomach roiled with queasiness and worry.

“You’re quite surprising,” he managed.

Sliding her dagger from the top of his shirt to the bottom, the material parted to expose his muscular chest marred only by the blood covering his left shoulder. Her nostrils flared, and she inhaled a long, steady breath. Even wounded, she could see why a woman might lose her head over him. He was perfection, at least physically.

Dismissing the thoughts, she reached down and grasped the brandy, then leaned closer to him. “I’m going to cleanse the wound. Are you ready?”

“Hell no,” he muttered. “But do it anyway.”

Underneath her thighs, the muscle of his legs tensed.
Best to be quick.
Without giving him warning, she tilted the bottle and poured. The amber liquor mingled with blood and ran down his arm onto the bedsheets. As she stared at the mess, she shook her head. It had been silly not to put a towel under him. She glanced at his pale face and clenched jaw, and nibbled on her lip. It was true she had read some medical books, but she was no expert. “Maybe I should do it again?” she questioned herself.

“Not unless you’re trying to kill me,” he gritted, surprising her with his response.

“Not quite yet. Not until we’re properly married and I’m sure I’ll get some of your vast fortune,” she jested, hoping to turn his thoughts away from the obvious pain. He gripped the sheets in his fists, his dark eyes taking on an alarming, glazed look.

“Funny,” he said, but the word was spoken as if with great effort.

Sophia turned toward the door. Where in heaven were the physician and Frank? Blast the devil. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she faced Nathan. “I’m going to get a rag to stop the flow of blood.”

His eyes peeled opened, but only to slits. “You’re leaving?”

“No.” She pressed a hand to his forehead and sucked in a sharp breath at the burning skin that met her touch.

He nodded, closing his eyes once more. Sophia scrambled off the bed, retrieved the rag, and then rushed back to Nathan and gently pressed it over the wound. As she did, the sound of footsteps reached her, followed by several voices all talking at once.

The door creaked behind her, and a woman’s high-pitched, nasally voice exclaimed, “He’s naked!”

Sophia stiffened. She knew that annoying voice. “He is not naked, Mrs. Dalton. I removed his shirt to care for his wound.”

Rotund, crooked-nosed, pock-faced Mrs. Dalton waddled up to Sophia at the same time Frank did. She gave Sophia a sharp glance with her beady gray eyes, then Mrs. Dalton stared at Nathan’s scandalously naked chest much longer than was proper. The wretched witch turned her accusing eyes on Sophia once more. “No respectable lady would have removed his shirt. And you alone in the room with him!” Mrs. Dalton shook her head as she clucked her tongue reproachfully. “You’ll be ruined when word of this gets out. Not that this isn’t expected from the likes of you.”

Sophia speared Frank with a glare. He returned her scowl with an ear-to-ear grin. She faced Mrs. Busybody Pain-in-the-Neck Dalton. “I suppose a respectable lady would have left his shirt on and let him die?” she demanded in a seething tone.

Nathan groaned loudly, and Sophia realized immediately she had been pressing harder on his wound in her anger. Blast Mrs. Dalton for riling her temper.

“That’s exactly what a respectable lady would have done.”

“Then I suppose I am not respectable, as I’m sure you always thought,” Sophia clipped and blew at a strand of hair dangling like a brown ribbon in front of her face. Defiance against all the days, months, and years of whispered words and disapproving glances she’d been forced to endure just because she was the daughter of Frank Vane rose up in her. Sophia stood tall and eyed Mrs. Dalton. “I suppose you better take off so your own shiny reputation isn’t tarnished.”

“I just got here!” Mrs. Dalton exclaimed. “I was dragged out of my house by Mr. Dalton to help
you
, you ingrate.”

Sophia eyed Mrs. Dalton for a long moment and could feel the seams of her temper coming undone. “If you don’t leave this instant I’m going to give you a punch you’ll never forget.”

“You don’t look like a lady, and you certainly don’t act like one!” Mrs. Dalton huffed and stomped out of the room, shoes squeaking as she went.

The door slammed shut behind her. Frank grinned. “Well played, Sophia.”

She clenched her fists at her sides with the realization that she’d done exactly what Frank had hoped she would. She’d angered Mrs. Dalton and kicked her out. Now the woman could not even vouch for the fact that nothing untoward had happened, but she
could
certainly tell everyone that Sophia had been in a room with a half-naked man. Sophia hated Frank with a new fervor.