Page 17 of A Touch of Charm (Miracles on Harley Street #3)

T hea instantly regretted it when Andre set her down after he locked the door behind them. It was absurd to think it at the moment, but when he’d cradled her in his arms and carried her to safety, she’d never felt more—it was challenging to think it—at home. Yes, that was the right way to think of it. She wasn’t merely safe in Andre’s arms, but felt like she’d arrived precisely where her path had led her. It may have seemed odd in theory, but practically—she felt it deep in her heart—she was meant to be close to him. And when he’d carried her, she became his.

Not because he touched her or because she’d risked—and perhaps succeeded in—getting compromised. That wasn’t it at all. She became his as soon as he scooped her up in a moment of vulnerability and weakness, and she felt she’d never be alone with him. She’d never feel bare or insignificant because she was a girl—she was a princess and no fairy tale damsel in distress. With him, even in a moment of need, she was more. He hadn’t patronized or removed her from danger because she couldn’t defend herself—even though that was precisely what happened, it wasn’t how Andre made her feel—instead, he’d asked if he could assist her. He left her in control and merely offered his support. All of that tact and humility after he saved her—there wasn’t an aristocrat, her brothers included, who would have wanted to support her more than save her. It was a fine line, an insignificant nuance to most, but it meant the world to Thea.

The handsome, tall doctor with a chest and shoulders as hard as wood, Thea thought when she wrapped her arm around Andre’s neck. In the woods a few moments ago, she’d reeled in his closeness. This was different. He hadn’t merely saved her; he was her protector in a way that it seemed he was doing it for himself more than her safety. She meant something to him, didn’t she?

And he’d felt so good.

Wise.

Brilliant.

And oh, so close.

Thea realized she was still clutching Andre’s arm and looked up at him. He was nearly one head taller but just the right height for their eyes to meet again.

And Thea’s breath hitched when he blinked at her with those dark lashes as if he’d heard her thoughts.

“What happened?” Stan called out when Thea limped and held on to Andre’s arm as they stepped into the orangery at Cloverdale House.

“Thea!” Mary cried as she threw herself against Thea’s legs and hugged her tightly, nearly making her topple again. But Andre’s arm was already on her back.

He offered his support.

Again.

And hopefully forever.

“Thea!” Stan called out in horror as he eyed her intensely.

“Andre came out of nowhere, and then he lunged at them. The taller one hit him, but Andre ducked.” Thea heaved for air, but suddenly, tears came in a torrent of emotion when she realized what could have happened.

Oh, it was embarrassing to be so overcome with emotion, but now that she thought about the danger she’d been in, she hoped she may have just gotten away with her virtue and her life.

“I recognized one of them; it was the same man as in the woods,” Andre said. “A Prussian.”

Stan froze and looked at Andre and Thea with resignation at first, but then it turned into fury. “They’re attacking my family,” Stan mumbled.

“They already did. Twice!” Thea winced when she tried to put weight on her leg.

“Come, I’ll take a look,” Andre said as he put one hand again on her back and the other under her bottom. Before she could say anything, Andre had lifted her into his arms.

He was carrying her. She liked it more than she cared to admit.

While Stan and Mary were momentarily ahead in the brief moment that they walked through the halls of Cloverdale House, Thea closed her eyes. Still in Andre’s arms, she let the tension go. After one last deep breath, she managed to stop crying.

“If you hadn’t come in time—” she started but choked on the horror that he saved her from.

His grip tightened, and he looked deeply into her eyes. “I wouldn’t have stopped trying to find you.”

“Until what?” Thea asked.

“Ever.” Andre’s voice grew serious, and there was a certain heaviness to it that spoke of deep sorrow. Just a few more doors down the hall, and they’d be in his treatment room. Thea had never been inside, but it was close and soon, he’d have to set her down. Too soon.

Of course, she loathed the circumstances of her injury, but being in this man’s arms was like reaching for the stars and grabbing one. In touching him, she committed a transgression she could not ignore—she knew it all too well. Yet, as he carried her through the solemn halls of Cloverdale House toward his treatment room, the moment felt charged, as if she were stealing a forbidden chance to connect with Andre, one she could not bear to lose.

“Did they hit you?” Andre asked in a low voice as they followed Stan with Mary in tow.

“The taller one shoved me against the wall. I think that’s when the sutures burst,” Stan mumbled. He seemed in quite some pain.

As soon as they arrived in the treatment room, Andre gingerly set Thea down on the elongated treatment table and lifted her leg with one swift motion under her knee onto the edge. “Can you straighten it?”

She nodded.

“Good. Then it’s probably not broken.” Then he turned to Stan. “Can you open your shirt so we can clean the wound, please?”

“Where’s Nurse Shira?” Mary asked.

Thea followed Andre’s gaze to the small clock on the wall. “I think she left for the day. There’s no time to send for her. Can you be my nurse?”

Mary inhaled with an air of encouragement and enterprise. “I’ll ask a servant for water to rinse his shoulder.”

Stan arched a brow at the little girl, but Thea was rather proud. Mary felt visibly useful and had learned so much since she’d come to London with Thea. Even though she was so tiny, she’d become her own person.

When Mary left, Stan spoke to Andre. “This is getting out of hand. I’ve notified my brother, and he’s coming here.” Then he turned to Thea. “Alex will arrive any day now. Together, we will confront List.”

“May I?” Andre asked and touched her boot. “I need to examine your leg.”

Thea cast a look at Stan, but he seemed unperturbed. Andre had his trust, and he was there, so Thea lifted her skirt and let Andre bare her leg.

*

She’s just like any other patient , Andre tried to tell himself as Thea exposed her bare leg.

Just a woman like any other.

His insides churned as if every fiber of his being resisted what he tried to convince himself of.

She was a patient now, and he mustn’t think of her as the most precious and beautiful woman on Earth—perhaps the whole universe.

The confines of the treatment room felt intimate, almost conspiratorial as if the walls were listening to their every breath. Andre stood before Thea, his gaze unwavering as he gently lifted the hem of her gown, uncovering the delicate curve of her leg. The sight of her skin, usually flawless ivory, now marred by a fresh bruise, sent a fiery rage coursing through his veins.

He’d imagined it at night, unveiling her beautiful legs. And they were perfect, long, feminine, smooth—precisely as he’d pictured and better—but the moment was overshadowed by her injury, forever stolen from the magic his gentle touch would have revealed. And that made him even angrier.

His fingers trembled slightly as they hovered above the discolored mark marring her knee. “Thea,” he murmured when he palpated the bruise, his voice a deep rumble laced with barely contained fury, “does this hurt?”

She nodded.

He lay his hand on her knee, trying to soothe the pain that the criminals had inflicted.

“Can you bend your leg?” he asked, gently gripping the ankle and pushing it up.

She winced, but her range of motion did not diminish. “It’s not broken.”

“How long till it heals?” Stan asked from behind Andre, seemingly watching them together.

But Andre didn’t want to hide his raw emotions anymore. “It will look terrible for a few days and then fade from blue to green to yellow.”

“It’s not worse than when I fell off the cherry tree at Bran,” she said wistfully, but Stan shot her a piercing look, one reflecting the concern of a brother for his sister.

“It’s very different. That was an accident back then, and you were nine. This was a crime against a member of the royal family.” He swallowed. “And what’s worse, it was another attack on my family. And for that, List shall pay. I need Alex here while my shoulder is healing.”

Andre wondered what Stan planned that he needed his older brother Alex with him, but he knew it wasn’t his place to ask.

Mary arrived, a metal bowl of water in her hands and a muslin towel over her shoulder. “I’m ready to tend to the princess,” she declared solemnly, setting the bowl down.

“Mary, this is too small,” Andre said but Stan had already come to Mary’s side.

“There must be something else we can use. Take some of these muslins, please, Nurse Mary.” The little girl beamed at Stan. “And then, could you help me to find my valet?” Stan asked and left before Andre could tend to him more, but he was grateful that his little nurse distracted Stan so that he could speak to Thea.

“I shouldn’t have let this happen,” he whispered.

She hesitated, her lashes fluttering as she sought the courage to speak. Her vulnerability sharply contrasted with the usual vivacity that danced in her eyes, a reminder of the violation she had endured. “They… they kicked me,” she whispered, the words tumbling out, each one a dagger to Andre’s heart. “When I bent over, they shoved me against a tree.”

Andre’s jaw tightened, and his neck muscles corded with tension as he fought to contain his emotions. The thought that those no-do-gooders touched her was insufferable, the reality spreading with bitterness in his throat so that he could hardly swallow, as if he couldn’t allow the atrocities of the crime to sink in.

Her vulnerability drew him in and wrapped him in a protective haze that was both tender and fierce.

“I should have been there,” Andre said, his voice a low growl of self-recrimination. “I promised to protect you, and I failed.”

Thea reached out, her fingers cool against the warmth of his cheek. She tilted his head until his eyes met hers, luminous and steady despite the turmoil reflected within them. “You saved me, Andre. You found me when I was nearly lost to them.”

“This will take a while to heal, and you’re in pain.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe the horror of his words.

“It will heal, and it will be forgotten.”

“I won’t forget this, and neither will Stan.”

“If this Prussian baron is so dangerous, I’d prefer that you both stay away from him instead of avenging a bruise by risking your lives.”

Her words were a balm, soothing the raw edges of his guilt, yet the fire within him only burned hotter. He could not let this transgression go unanswered. The stakes had never been higher; the very core of his being demanded justice—demanded that he ensure such a threat could never reach her again.

Swallowing hard, Andre took a deliberate breath, his resolve hardening like steel. “They will pay for what they’ve done,” he vowed, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it resonated with the weight of an unbreakable promise.

Thea’s fingers combed through his hair, a gesture meant to comfort but which only fueled the desire simmering beneath his skin. The proximity of her body, the scent of her mingling with the vial of arnica oil he uncorked, and the lingering adrenaline of their earlier ordeal were intoxicating. He longed to draw her closer and assure her of safety with more than words.

Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. The contact was electric, a spark that ignited the air between them. “Andre,” she breathed, her voice a soft caress. “I trust you.”

The admission was a heady rush, more potent than the finest brandy, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to close the scant distance between their lips. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over her cheeks as if to memorize the texture of her skin, the shape of her resolve.

“I will never let anyone harm you,” he declared, fiery and fierce. The promise hung between them, heavy with the weight of all it implied.

And that’s why he had to stand back as he did.

“We’ve got water,” Mary called from the door, but it was Stan who carried the heavy bowl.

And that distracted Andre from the heady feelings about the princess coursing through him. Mary got to work and started to rinse Stan’s wound, but he guided her since her arms were too short to even reach up to his shoulder.

“You’re an excellent nurse,” Stan said and winked in Andre’s direction with a patient-to-doctor look saying, “I can manage it, don’t worry.”

Stan appeared busy with the cold water Mary drizzled on his wound. Giving Andre a minute or two before tending to him. For the moment, he had to steady himself, for he almost grew weak and let his emotions get the better of him.

Thea’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but there was a new light in them, a spark of hope that banished the embarrassment of her ordeal. She leaned into him, her breath mingling with his, and whispered, “I know.”

At that moment, Andre and Thea were bound by a shared setback, and a passion that crackled like lightning around them. He lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a tender kiss to her knuckle, a silent vow of protection and devotion.

And Andre reminded himself that he mustn’t cross the line that would soil her with the touch of a bastard.

He couldn’t do that to her; he loved her too much.