A Lady Never Tells(70)

“So anyone could have walked by and dropped something in it?” Royce asked.

“Not anyone! We would have noticed a stranger in the kitchen, surely.” In the next instant, the landlord realized that this contention once again made him culpable, and he quickly backtracked. “Well, perhaps … that is to say, it was quite busy. My wife might not have noticed someone in that corner of the kitchen. It is right by the hallway. Someone could have nipped down the hall from the public room and dropped it in.”

Mary sighed. “I suppose there is nothing we can do about it now.”

Royce nodded and dismissed the landlord, who reiterated his assurances that nothing of this sort ever happened here. As the man trudged off down the stairs, still muttering to himself, Royce turned to Mary.

“Let’s get you to your room. I want to take a look at that head wound. We should have tended to it long ago.”

“It was not the most pressing issue,” Mary pointed out, but she let him take her arm and propel her back into her room.

Inside the bedchamber, Mary checked on Rose, who was still sleeping, peacefully unaware of the turmoil about her. Royce dampened a washcloth and beckoned to Mary.

“Come here by the light.” He took her arms, turning her so that he could look at the wound. “You’re going to have a nasty bump. It cut the scalp as well.”

He parted her hair gently and held the wet cloth to the wound. Mary scarcely noticed the sting. She was far more aware of the feel of his fingers on her head. Royce’s breath ruffled her hair; his body was large and warm behind her. Suddenly she could think of nothing but the fact that he was standing so close to her. It occurred to her for the first time that she was in her bedchamber, inches away from a man—with nothing more than a thin cotton garment covering her.

A shiver ran through her, and her nipples hardened against her night rail. Had he noticed? Had his mind, too, turned to their physical closeness? Was he thinking now how alone they were, with everyone else fast asleep?

She could not help remembering that Royce, too, was not fully dressed. He had obviously yanked on only his breeches and shirt and come running when he heard her call, his shirt hanging loose and open at the top, exposing a V of his chest and a hint of his skin beneath, the dark circles that were his nipples.

Royce rested his other hand on her shoulder as he tended to her head. His hand was warm, and Mary could not help but remember his hands on her when he kissed her. She thought of his fingers gliding over her shoulder, caressing her, and her skin prickled. He moved, his hand sliding over a fraction to cup the curve of her shoulder.#p#分页标题#e#

She sensed him shift behind her, and his hand fell away. He cleared his throat. “Um, I think that is as clean as I can get it.” He moved to the washbasin and rinsed out the rag. “We should put something on it—I shall go ask the landlord if his wife has any sort of ointment.”

“I have something.” Mary reached for the bag that sat at the foot of her bed, acutely aware of how little she was wearing and of the way her breasts, free of the restraint of her chemise, swayed as she moved.

She cast a surreptitious glance at Royce as she dug through the bag. His eyes, she noted, were not on her face but on her body. She flushed as she pulled out the small jar and held it toward him.

“Here. ’Tis only a home remedy, but it helps wounds heal, I’ve found.”

He stepped forward and took the jar, his fingertips grazing hers. Mary could not suppress another shiver.

“Cold?” he asked.

Mary nodded, not daring to look at him. She hurried to the chair beside her bed and picked up her dressing gown, quickly slipping it on. She turned back to Royce as she tied the sash.

There was something in his heavy-lidded gaze that took her breath away. Her hands trembled on the bow she was tying. She curled her hands into fists and dropped them to her sides to hide the movement.

He walked over to her, and Mary looked up into his face. His eyes were dark and mysterious in the dim light, pulling her in. “Turn around so I can put this on you.”

“What? Oh.” Mary tore her eyes away and pivoted so that her back was to him.

“You have no idea who the intruder might have been?” he asked, carefully pushing her hair away on either side of her wound. His fingers slid through her hair, and the locks twined around them and fell away.

“I—um—not really.” Mary struggled to conceal the breathlessness in her voice. The nape of her neck lay bare, and she felt vulnerable and exposed—and tingling with anticipation. “I could not see his face. He wore a cap pulled low and a mask over much of his face. What I could see did not look familiar.” She considered telling Royce about Cosmo, but she was reluctant to bring him up. It could not have been Cosmo, anyway; the man was too large.