"What are you doing?" She was so short of breath she sounded hoarse.
"Checking for broken or bruised ribs."
"Nothing hurts there." This time, her voice sounded strangled-the best she could do with his fingers pressed hard beneath her breasts.
A grunt was his answer, but at least he let her go. Patience dragged in a much-needed breath, then blinked as he knelt before her.
He flicked up her skirts.
"What-!" Patience desperately tried to push the soft folds back down.
"Stop fussing!"
His tone-clipped and angry-made her do just that. Then she felt his hands close about her sore ankle. His fingers searched, probed gently, then, very carefully, he moved her foot about. "No sharp pain?"
Patience shook her head. His fingers firmed, gently massaging; swallowing a sigh, she closed her eyes. His touch felt so good. The heat of his hands reduced the ache; when he finally released her ankle, it felt much better.
His hands slid upward, following the swell of her calf to her knee.
Patience kept her eyes shut, and tried not to think about how sheer her evening stockings were. Luckily, she wore her garters high, so when his hands closed about her knee, he wasn't touching bare skin.
He might as well have been.
Every nerve in her legs came alive, focused on his touch. He probed, and pain flashed; Patience jerked-but welcomed the distraction. He was very careful after that. Twice more, she hissed in pain as he tested the joint. Eventually, his hands left her.
Patience opened her eyes and quickly flicked down her skirts. She could feel her blush heating her cheeks. Luckily, in the poor light, she doubted he could see it.
Vane stood and looked down at her. "Wrenched knee, slightly sprained ankle."
Patience shot him a glance. "You're an expert?"
"Of a sort." With that, he picked her up.
Patience clung to his shoulders. "If you would give me your arm, I'm sure I could manage."
"Really?" came the less than encouraging reply. He looked down at her. In the gloom, she couldn't make out his expression. "Luckily, you won't be called upon to put that to the test." His tones remained clipped, excessively precise. The undercurrent of irritation gained in intensity as he continued, "Why the devil didn't you stay where I left you? And didn't Minnie make you promise not to chase the Spectre in the dark?"
Patience ignored his first question, for which she had no good answer. Not that her answer to his second question was particularly good either. "I forgot about my promise-I just saw the Spectre and came rushing out. But what are you doing here if it's too dangerous to chase the Spectre?"
"I have special dispensation."
Patience felt perfectly justified in humphing. "Where's Myst?"
"Ahead of us."
Patience looked but couldn't see anything. Obviously, Vane could see better than she could. His stride didn't falter as he wound his way through the rumbled blocks; her arms locked about his neck, she was inwardly very glad she didn't have to hobble up that particular stretch of lawn.
Then the side door loomed out of the murk. Myst stood waiting on the stoop. Patience waited to be put down. Instead, Vane juggled her in his arms and managed to open the door. Once across the threshold, he kicked the door shut, then leaned his shoulders back against it.
"Set the bolts."
She did as he said, reaching about him. When the last bolt slid home, he straightened and headed on.
"You can put me down now," Patience hissed as he strode into the front hall.
"I'll put you down in your room"
In the light from the hall candle, Patience saw what she hadn't been able to see before-his face. It was set. In uncompromisingly grim lines.