Midnight Star (Star Quartet 2) - Page 36

It was Lucas, however, who had turned the trick. “Come on, girl,” he’d said in the softest voice Delaney had ever heard from him. “I’ll make sure you’re called if she worsens.”

“But her hair will tangle dreadfully if I don’t braid it!”

“It already has,” Delaney said. “You can worry about it tomorrow.”

No, Delaney thought as the twelfth chime faded away, I’m not a rapist. But I should love having you in my arms, having you moan with pleasure when I kiss you and touch you. “Fool,” he muttered to himself. “Ass.” He was startled when she groaned softly. He immediately rose and bent over her. “There now, it’s all right,” he said, gently pulling tendrils of hair away from her forehead.

Her eyes opened. They were dilated, appearing nearly black in the dim lamplight. “Father,” she whispered. She raised her hand, her fingers lightly touching his cheek. “Father.”

“I’m here,” he said. “I won’t leave you, Chauncey.”

“I was so stupid to believe I wanted to marry him. He’s a prig, Father. But you never realized, never knew . . .”

She broke off, closing her eyes a moment.

“No, you won’t marry him, Chauncey. A prig is not for you.”

“Aunt Gussie was so angry,” she murmured in an odd singsong voice. “You left me, Father. Left me in her care.” She began to shudder, twisting her head about on the pillow.

“You’re no longer in her care,” he said firmly, speaking very clearly. “Do you hear me, Chauncey? Aunt Gussie has nothing to do with you now.”

“They only wanted me when I became rich. And Owen. He’s a toad. I didn’t belong to anyone.” Silent tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.

He wiped them away, listening to more rambling words. He had had experience once with a man who was delirious. He’d learned damning truths. But this gently bred girl. What damning things were in her past? Things that made her cry so hopelessly.

“Ginger, they sold her. Said I was in mourning and shouldn’t ride. God, the months! Uncle Paul . . . why are you doing that? They hate me . . . hate me.”

He couldn’t hold her steady. He swung himself onto the bed beside her and turned her carefully against him, careful of her bandaged ribs. He stroked her hair, caressed her throat and shoulders, all the while whispering nonsense to her. She quieted finally, falling into an uneasy sleep, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She brought her hand up, fisting it against his shoulder as would a small child.

“I think your plan worked too well,” he said ruefully, and lightly kissed her mouth.

11

“I can’t breathe!” The words erupted from her throat, the pain they brought making them sound like a weak croaking sound. “The bandage, Mary, I can’t breathe.”

“You hold still, Miss Chauncey. I’ll get help!”

Mary wheeled about and headed toward the door. It opened abruptly and Delaney entered.

“Sir, the bandage is too tight! She’s hurting dreadfully!”

He felt the leap of fear and repressed it. “Let me see,” he said calmly.

He sat down beside her, watching her face contort with each breath she drew. “Chauncey,” he said firmly, drawing her eyes to his face. “Take shallow breaths. That’s it. Slowly . . .”

It was his intention to loosen the bands of linen that Saint had wrapped around her ribs, but he realized belatedly that she was still wearing his nightshirt. He would have to practically strip her to get the job done. “Mary,” he said over his shoulder, “tell Lucas to fetch Doc Morris.”

Delaney laid his hand lightly against her ribs, trying to determine if the cloths were too tight. He could feel each breath she drew. “No, more slowly, Chauncey. Light, shallow breaths. Good girl.”

“I am not eight years old!” she said between gritted teeth.

“That’s for damned sure. If you were, I wouldn’t have to worry about offending your maidenly sensibilities. Now, do as I tell you.”

She didn’t care what he called her, not now. Every breath hurt, hurt so much she wanted to cry. He kept saying over and over, “Shallow breaths. That’s right, shallow breaths.”

And she obeyed his instructions.

“Well,” Saint said, striding into the room, “Miss Mary here tells me our patient needs to have the bandages loosened.”

Tags: Catherine Coulter Star Quartet Historical
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