Despite lying prostrate and weakened upon her bed, he was so intrinsically masculine that he made her feel warm and protected. She watched carefully as a frown marred his brow, and she wasn’t sure if she was sad or relieved when his eyes broke away from hers.
Turning his gaze towards the ceiling, he considered his answer.
“Do you know? I am not sure.” His frown deepened. “Where am I?”
Sebastian tried to rise from the bed and look around the room only to groan aloud when pain lanced his side. “My side,” Sebastian gasped, hating the invalidity of his body.
“I think you have broken some bones. You must lie still.” Amelia tugged the sheet up to his armpits, covering the tempting expanse of well-muscled chest before moving away from the bed.
She was glad to be able to put some distance between them, and took a few moments to bustle in front of the hearth while she gathered her scattered wits about her.
Despite being battered and bruised, he had far too much of an impact on her than she liked. He was gentry, and that fact alone should be enough to ensure any fluttering of attraction she felt towards him came to nothing. Nevertheless, the raw masculinity of the man lying in her bed was impossible to ignore.
Undoubtedly a rake, Amelia thought to herself. The Ton was littered with them, and they were all the same. Good looking, sophisticated, charming and with far too much money than was wise or fair. They had little to do in a day other than eat, drink and bed women, leaving the poor to work from dawn to dusk running their estates for them in exchange for a pittance.
Somewhat mollified that the initial fluttering of attraction she had felt for him had been banished to the far corners of her innermost thoughts, Amelia carefully spooned a bowl of broth and returned to the bed. Ideally, now he was awake she should hand him his clothes and order him out of her cottage. Despite the weather.
Although she had kept herself to herself while she had lived on the outskirts of Glendowie, people in the village knew her or knew of her. Her reputation could be tarnished as easily as any aristocratic young lady’s, simply by having him in her cottage. Injured or not. She couldn’t afford for the village, or Sir Hubert, to cast her out. Her very survival depended upon their respect and belief in her integrity.
Turning back towards the bed, she was surprised to find him still awake and watching her carefully.
“You didn’t answer me,” Sebastian murmured, watching the delicate curve of her feminine brow arch in silent question. Despite the sparseness of the room, there was something about her that spoke of quality. “Where am I?”
“You are in a small village of Glendowie, on the Scottish borders,” Amelia replied, helping him sit upright enough to plump the pillow behind him.
Silence settled between them as she sat tentatively on the edge of the bed and began to spoon the fragrant broth into his mouth. He managed to consume half of the bowl before he motioned he was full with a weak wave of his hand, and a murmur of thanks. He greedily drank the cup of water offered to him and eased back into the pillows with a sigh.
Amelia watched him with a pang of longing. He looked so comfortable lying on her small mound of pillows. She longed to be able to lie down and go to sleep herself, but given he occupied the only bed she owned; it was the cold, hard floor for her. Shaking her head in disgust, she silently cursed the aristocracy and returned to the hearth.
“Are you married?” She turned at the raspy rumble and considered her answer. Should she reveal the truth, and leave herself vulnerable to him? After all, she still had to learn who he was and what had happened to him. If he was one of the Ton, with his looks he was undoubtedly a rogue. She certainly didn’t want him considering her to be vulnerable prey, there to service his every desire before he left for home. But if she said she was married, she couldn’t produce a husband to come home. The longer he was in her cottage, the more evident it would be that there was no man in residence.
She found herself unable to lie to him. “Can you remember how you got here?” Amelia asked, hoping he would accept her change of subject.
Sebastian had already surmised she was unwed. Although sparsely furnished, the single room cottage had a touch of femininity about it. Wild flowers sat in a small pot upon the well-scrubbed, but rickety wooden table standing in solitary splendour in front of the only fireplace in the room. The retiring screen in the corner, which undoubtedly hid the chamber pot, was draped in female paraphernalia. There were no boots, cloaks, or signs of masculine presence. Indeed, if it weren’t for the clothing, there would be very little sign of Amelia living there.
Bringing his attention back to her question, he generously ignored the fact she had carefully skirted around his question. “I can remember bits and bobs, but nothing that makes any sense. It was raining and dark, and I was in a carriage but apart from that-.” He shook his head and winced as the throbbing in his temples increased.
“You need to rest. I am sure your memory will return in good time.” Amelia settled down in the old chair she had tugged before the fire, and dragged a large basket of mending toward her. With the adventures of the previous night, she had not had the time to do the mending for the main house.
Although the pay was little, the pennies were a boon to her meagre finances. She knew Sir Hubert paid her as much as he could afford, but she was aware her wages fell far below those of other housekeepers. Yet she liked Hubert. He had been kind and considerate; giving her a chance when nobody else could. She was grateful he had given her a job at all. With no references, he could have easily turned her out without bothering to speak to her. Instead, he had accepted her honest explanation of her circumstance, and hired her on the spot
.
Amelia traded part of the wages she knew he couldn’t afford to pay her, for rental of the cottage. She had stayed in the housekeeper’s quarters of his small manor house briefly while she made the small cottage habitable. She didn’t mind its dilapidated state. She gained a home of her own, and a small measure of pride in the knowledge that despite the odds being stacked against her, she was able to look after herself.
“Amelia?”
Amelia snapped out of her silent reverie, and glanced at her house guest.
“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Amelia was half out of her seat when she was waved back down.
“It’s just that I have, erm, pressing needs.” Sebastian paused, wondering if she would understand.
Amelia frowned in consternation. Pressing needs? Oh! She couldn’t prevent the blush that stole through her cheeks when his meaning dawned on her. With an uncomfortable cough, she lunged out of her chair and hurried behind the retiring screen, emerging moments later with a thankfully empty pot. Placing it down beside the bed, she frowned in consternation at the next problem.
“Er-.” She eyed the empty receptacle warily, her cheeks fiery red.
“I can manage by myself, thank you.” Sebastian’s crisp declaration brooked no argument.