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The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(235)

By:Sorcha MacMurrough




"I said, are you hungry?"



"Starving."



She sat up, and he almost wept at the loss of her soft presence in the bed beside him.



"There's some hot water and towels and whatever was left over in your valise behind the screen. And your things drying by the fire. I'll tell the servants to bring up some food. I'm sorry we had to share. There was no more room and they made the mistake of, well, um-"



He sat up and looked at her. "What mistake?"



She blushed. "Thinking we were a couple."



"I see." He colored as well, suddenly recalling his sensual delusions as he had been led into the warmth of the inn. Surely he hadn't-



But no, she seemed unruffled, the sheets crisp and clean. As he discovered when he got behind the screen, he was fiercely aroused, but there was no sign that he had been doing anything he shouldn't.



She took up her midnight blue shawl and went out into the hall to find a servant and then see James the postillion and Mr. Greengage, who had been put in the next room.



As luck would have it, one of the other travellers who had taken refuge from the storm and was sleeping downstairs by the fire until the storm blew over was an apothecary and bonesetter. He had immediately offered to help. Both men were now resting comfortably, though they were still shivering and a bit feverish.



Blake's driver John had been badly frostbitten, and they'd had to remove a couple of his fingers and toes. But he was at least alive. He had been found slumped over the back of the horse, it having made its way to the inn with the unerring instinct of a beast looking for food, shelter and the companionship of its own kind. Of course they had had no idea where he had come from, so no help had arrived at the site of the mailcoach wreck.



Belle shivered herself as she thought how lucky they had been. She hated to think what would have happened to them had Blake not decided to brave the journey to Rede Village.



Now at last John was conscious, but she doubted they would have lasted twenty-four hours in the coach and still lived to tell the tale.





The sun was already setting by the time Blake pulled himself from the hot bath she had had prepared for him, and he struggled into his drawers, trousers and shirt. At last he felt warm, if exhausted once more.



The return of Belle and the arrival of the food soon perked him up considerably.



"Better now?" she asked.



"Much. My goodness, I feel as though I've been to hell and back."



She nodded. "I know what you mean. Eat the soup. It'll make you feel stronger."



He said Grace and then they both began to devour the food hungrily. She stretched out her bare feet in front of the fire and sighed. "We were very lucky. All ten fingers and toes. Both of us. And James and Mr. Greengage."



He nearly started up out of the chair. "My God, I'm in such a daze, I nearly forgot all about them."



"It's all right. Sit and eat," she soothed, patting his hand. "Mr. Samuels is with them. He's an apothecary. They're fine. John too, just about."



She told him about his frostbite and fever. "You can go look in on all of them when you've finished eating. No, finish. You need to eat. And as soon as I eat, I'm having my bath."



She rang for a servant to start bringing more hot water. She sat back down, and put more roast beef on his plate.



"All I can say is thank you, Belle. I don't know what I would have done without you," he said sincerely, his gaze boring into hers.



"The same here. It was quite an adventure," she said, daring to venture a smile.



"Too close a call for us all."



"Aye, I do know it. And I thank the Lord every minute that it was you in coming on the road in the storm. Anyone less than a medical doctor with your skills and bravery, and, well, I doubt any of us would have survived. Most certainly not Mr. Greengage."



He waved aside her compliments with a blush. "Anyone would have--"



"I don't think so. I dare say you've seen worse in the war, but still, you were very brave and I owe you a debt of gratitude I can never hope to repay."



He finished the last of his meat and shook his head. "Nay, no gratitude needed. I was glad to help. But I do want to say, well, all this--' He gestured around the room. " I'm sorry if I've appeared to take advantage of you in any way. You're so young."



"Not so young that I don't know a cad when I see one."



His face fell.



"But you are no cad, Dr. Sanderson." She winked.



He smiled at her in relief, though why the girl's good opinion of him should matter so much he had no idea. She was a stranger, a passing acquaintance, no more. He would go to Bath, she to London, and never more would they meet.