The Offer (Baron 2)

He looked down at her awhile longer, then rose. He turned at the doorway and said over his shoulder, “Stay in bed. Just call out if you need me.”

Five minutes later Phillip came back into the bedchamber, a tray balanced on his arms. “Your servant, Sabrina. The best bread and soup available in these parts. Of course there are hay and oats in the stable, but I doubt Tasha would part with any of it.” She cocked her head to one side. “My horse,” he said. “Now, let me help you up on that pillow, my lady.”

She opened her eyes at that. He wasn’t mistaken. He saw panic. “I don’t have a signet ring,” she said, and he could hear the fear crawling in her voice. “I’m not a my lady. How could you ever think that I was?”

He wanted to tell her that he’d just been jesting with her, but no, not now. What was going on here? Who the devil was she?

“No, no signet ring,” he said, looking down at her fingers. “It doesn’t matter. Come now and eat.” He clasped her under her arms and eased her to a sitting position, sat down beside her, and vigorously stirred the soup to cool it.

“Would you believe that this is a recipe from His Majesty’s own kitchens? Brought to you here in Yorkshire by your humble servant? No, I didn’t think you would believe that. Here, try some.” He placed a spoonful of broth into her mouth.

To his relief and delight, she closed her eyes in bliss and looked ready to swoon. She downed nearly half the bowl before shaking her head and leaning back. “It’s truly delicious, Phillip, but I can’t swallow another drop. If you weren’t a nobleman, why then, surely you could cook for the king, although since he’s mad, perhaps he wouldn’t appreciate your cooking.”

“I’ll let you try the bread before making a final decision on my cooking abilities.” He brought out one of the loaves from the cloth. “I know it doesn’t look aesthetically pleasing, but perhaps you’ll be able to get it down.”

He fed her a chunk of the still-warm bread.

She got it chewed and swallowed, he’d say that for her. Nor did she change expression. In fact, she smiled at him. “It’s wonderful, my lord. You are indeed a find. Where did you learn how to cook?”

“If a viscount happens to spend some years on the Peninsula, I assure you that he learns quickly how to keep body and soul together, at least after a fashion. When you are better, I doubt you’ll be so enthusiastic.”

A shadow crossed her face. “My father was killed at the battle of Ciudad Rodrigo.”

Eversleigh. Perhaps that was why her name was familiar to him. He tried to remember an officer of that name, but couldn’t remember a face. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Many good men were lost in that battle. I was wounded myself.”

She opened her eyes wide.

“Yes, shot through the shoulder. I returned to England then. Sometimes when the weather suddenly changes, as it always is doing in England, my shoulder will ache. But I survived.”

He saw it in her eyes. He saw how she wished her own father had suffered a simple wound and returned. But he hadn’t. He was surprised when she said suddenly, “That loaf of bread looks like a turtle and I have just eaten off its head.”

“That’s a repellent thought.”

Her smiled deepened, and dimples appeared on either side of her mouth. She looked really quite charming. He knew now that she was animated, full of life, full of energy. “I will be ready to eat its feet in just a few hours.”

“Ah, so you are of a sadistic nature.”

“What does that mean?”

He thought of that evil Frenchman, the Marquis de Sade. He just shook his head. “It just means that you think a bit differently. It’s charming.”

She withdrew. She didn’t move an inch, but she withdrew from him. Why? He’d said nothing untoward. He said easily, “Actually, I was thinking that the loaf reminded me of the quarry stones mined near my home.”

“Over the years Cook has occasionally taught me things. I do love your bread, my lord, but I would say that just a touch of yeast wouldn’t come amiss.”

“You’re right. I’ll see if I can find some.” She smiled again, but weakly, and leaned her head back against the pillow. She stiffened when he laid the back of his hand against her cheek.

“No, no, don’t pull away from me. I must check. There, you’ve no fever.”

“How long have we been here?”

“By my best reckoning, about two and a half days. I don’t think you could have been wandering around that forest for too long before I found you or you wouldn’t have survived.”

“It’s Eppingham Forest.”

“Ah, now I know you’re an Eversleigh and this forbidding place is called Eppingham Forest. Would you like to tell me where you live?”

He saw a flash of something in her eyes. Was it temper? He hoped so. She said, “What is the day today?”