Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2)

“No internal injuries?”

“Doubtful. One thing about all those damned clothes, they did protect her somewhat. Now, Del, I’m ready for a glass of whiskey.” He saw Delaney’s worried gaze go back toward the bedroom, and shook his head. “There’s naught you can do, Del. Lin will call if she comes around. When she does, I’ll feel her belly and see if she has any pain there.”

“I sent Lucas for her maid and clothes.”

Saint shot his friend a sideways glance as they walked into Delaney’s library downstairs. “Dan Brewer was telling me about the girl. Seems she has an interest in you, so Dan says.”

“God knows,” Delaney said. “She’s quite a . . . handful.”

“Lovely little thing. Never did like females who played the silent mouse. Not natural.”

“Here’s your whiskey, Saint.” The two men clicked their glasses together and downed the contents in one gulp.

“Will you stay until she comes out of it?”

“Can’t, Del. Mrs. Cutter is birthing her third. Since she’s an old hand at it, I came here first. I’ll be back. Don’t be so god-awful worried. Keep her calm and quiet when she comes around. A little laudanum in water. She’s certain to need it.”

Lin looked like a possessive little guard dog, Delaney thought when he entered his bedroom. She was standing still as a statue next to the bed, her eyes fixed on Miss Jameson’s face.

The covers were pulled only to her waist, likely in deference to her ribs, and Delaney smiled at the sight of his nightshirt. I never would have looked like that in it.

“Missy not make a sound,” Lin said.

“You can go downstairs now, Lin. Lucas should be bringing her maid along soon. I’ll watch Miss Jameson.”

“She’s very beautiful,” Lin said. “For a white woman.”

“Speaking as a white man, I’d have to agree with you.”

After Lin left, Delaney pulled over a chair and eased down into it. “Why, Elizabeth?” he said softly, studying her face. “Why are you so interested in me?” There was no response of course. He liked her name, aware for the first time that he had used it. Elizabeth Jameson, a very well-bred name.

Chauncey felt the sun shining on her face. It’s time to get up, she thought hazily. I’ve been sleeping much too long. There’s so much to be done. She opened her eyes and rational thought fled. What was he doing here in her bedroom?

“Hello,” Delaney said, leaning forward. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

“But I always wake up in the morning,” she said, then frowned. A bolt of pain shot through her chest, and she gasped aloud. “Something is wrong.”

“Hold still, Elizabeth,” he said, gently pressing down her shoulders. “You had an accident. Don’t you remember?”

She nodded slowly, and the slight movement of her head made her very sorry. “I want to go home,” she whispered, feeling tears sting her eyes.

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “Do your ribs hurt?”

“Yes,” she managed. “It hurts to breathe.”

“Do you want some laudanum?”

“Oh no! My father died . . . laudanum.”

He saw the frenzy of pain in her eyes. Pain from her body—and also pain from her father? “Hush,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Elizabeth. Just a little laudanum in water. It will make you feel better.”

“My name is Chauncey,” she whispered up at him, wondering why it was so important to make that clear.

“Chauncey,” he repeated, his eyes lighting with a smile. “That is more like you than the formal ‘Elizabeth,’ I think.”

“I . . . I can’t help it,” she gasped. He saw her fingers clutching frantically at the bedcovers. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and he quickly flicked them away with his fingertips.

“I’m sorry. Here, I’m going to lift you just a bit. Drink a few swallows.”