es instead of actual medicine.
Dahlia stepped forward then, her light blue eyes staring into his. “Then we are truly fortunate to have happened upon you.”
He wasn’t so certain. Even now, he had the urge to pull her against him. Ravage those sweet lips. “Anyone else would have done the same.” He gave a stiff bow. “I’ll let you tend to your brother.” He strode from the room without another word, attempting to put some distance between himself and Dahlia.
Chapter Four
Dahlia woke late the next morning, sun streaming in through her window. Where was she?
A rush of memories made her sit straight up in bed. Tossing a dressing gown over her borrowed night shift, she made her way to the connecting door and opened it a crack to see who was on the other side. Was her brother alone? Could she visit him?
Sam sat up in bed, drinking a cup of steaming tea. Relief caused her to throw open the door.
“Sam,” she exclaimed. “You’re up.”
He gave her a small smile. “I feel like I was crushed by a carriage, but I’m up.”
She came to sit next to him on the bed. “The doctor will return today.”
He took another sip of his tea. “That’s good. He can tell me how long I’ll need to recover. I was supposed to begin my new post in a fortnight.”
Dahlia shook her head. “Don’t worry about that now. We’ll work out those details later. For now, you are just to get better.” She reached for her brother’s hand, giving it a squeeze. She had to take on these responsibilities for him. “Do you think you can eat a bit before we give you another dose of laudanum?” The sleep it induced would help his body heal.
He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want to take it. I need to watch out for you.”
She held his hand in both of hers. “Stop worrying about me. Right now, it’s your care that is important.” But her insides twisted with worry. By all accounts, she shouldn’t be here. With her brother being regularly dosed with laudanum, she needed a proper chaperone, something this house lacked. Not that she cared about her reputation now. Sam’s life was far more important.
She stood and rang for a servant. First, she’d feed her brother some broth and then give him the next dose of medicine. There was no use in worrying about what she couldn’t control. The answers would present themselves in time.
But as she slipped out of her brother’s room an hour later, their host was waiting for her in the hall. He stood just a foot from her, and she found herself having to tilt up her chin to look at him. Her insides tightened at his large and imposing frame. He made her feel strange inside. Not frightened, necessarily, but on edge.
“I’d like to speak with you,” he said. She could practically feel the vibration of his voice and she had the distinct urge to lay her hand on his chest to do exactly that.
Instead, Dahlia clasped her hands in front of her stomach. “Of course.” He turned on his heel and began to walk down the hall, his long strides making it difficult for her to keep up. Lifting the front of her skirt, she scrambled behind him, trying not to lose him.
“My lord,” she called and he stopped, looking back at her. She closed the distance between them. “Where are we going in such a hurry?”
He frowned at her. “My study. And we are not hurrying. This is the pace I always walk.”
One of her eyebrows rose. “Clearly, you do not wear a corset. I cannot keep up.”
At the mention of her undergarment, his furrow deepened, and he glared at her with an expression that caused her to step back. She’d thought him kind last night, but perhaps she’d been mistaken. She was reminded of her initial fear when she’d seen the wolf statues outside his gate. He said nothing, his face still a severe mask, but he put out his elbow for her and she tentatively placed her hand into the crook. Something hectic zinged through her at the light touch.
“Perhaps you could leave the particulars of your wardrobe out of the conversation,” he muttered through barely open lips.
Granted, strictly speaking, mentioning her corset had not been the most ladylike conversation, but they were in the privacy of his home. And it was common knowledge that the garment restricted a woman’s movements. “Of course.”
He opened a door to a richly paneled room, with polished mahogany and deep red accents. A large desk sat in the middle. “That, I am afraid, is precisely the problem.”
“My corset is the problem?” she asked, tipping her head to one side. “I don’t think I follow.”
He let out a low rumble, the force of which reverberated through his chest, down his arm and into her hand. Her body hummed in response to the low note. Her breath sucked in as she pulled her hand away from him.
He leaned down, his face close to hers which only made it harder for her to breathe. “You understand. That’s why you pulled your hand away just now, because you know.”
She gave her head a small shake, trying to piece together what he was trying to say. There was an energy between them, he got upset when she mentioned her corset. He as a man without a wife and…she stared up at him, her own brow knitting. “Enlighten me.”
He let out a long breath, taking a step back even as his fists clenched. “I consider myself an honorable man. Three years ago when my cousin could no longer manage his property, I took it over for him and then gave it back when he was ready. Hell, I welcomed the distraction after my wife’s death. But I cannot have an innocent unmarried woman in my house. It’s been too long and—”