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Chapter Twelve

W ith the jar of salve clutched in one fist, Anna rapped twice on Caden’s antechamber door then let herself in.

Heart racing from her mad flight to find a footman to request food for them, on to her chamber to retrieve the salve, then back here, she pressed an ear to the adjoining door and heard only her own choppy breaths and silence.

She opened the door, her gaze shooting to the bed.

Caden lay atop the bedcovers, chest rising and falling in a steady manner indicative of sleep. He had not donned a shirt as she had feared—expected—he would. She drank in the sight.

Dusk had turned to full-on night and the candelabras framing the walnut four-post bed barely touched the shadows engulfing the room.

But those flickering candles bathed his supple looking skin in a soft gold that bade her fingers to touch and explore. Oh, he was beautifully formed. Broad shouldered with a muscular chest that narrowed to a trim waist and a hard, flat stomach .

Heat infused every inch of her body, coiling through her to a searing concentration low in her belly. It was an odd, strangely delicious sensation.

She inched closer, not so much as blinking.

His thick, tawny hair, lay mussed against a white pillow. The thick fringes of his lashes cast shadows over his broad cheek bones, and even in repose, his mouth curved in seductive invitation. Despite the bruise marring his brow, Caden epitomized male perfection.

“Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to apply your magic elixir?” He regarded her through slitted eyes.

She jumped. “I thought you’d fallen asleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.” She spoke in a breathless, too-rapid manner.

He snorted softly. “I’m quite awake.”

“Then why are you lying shirtless?” The fact one had little to do with the other, added to the tell-tale breathless quality of her voice, told her she’d missed the hoped-for affronted effect.

A lazy grin curved his lips. “Bother you does it?”

“Did I not say so?” Oh, would that he believed her scandalized.

“Pardon me, darling. I thought it obvious I needed help getting into my robe—what with the bleeding and dizziness.”

“Dizziness? You never mentioned feeling light-headed.”

“Only when I sit upright. I s’pose for decorum’s sake, I should’ve risked a minor faint. Terribly sorry.”

She might’ve believed his apology sincere if not for the devilish gleam in his eyes he didn’t bother to mask.

“I’ll just slip into my robe.” He reached for a bed post and started to drag himself upright.

“No.” She rushed forward to press her hand into the center of his chest .

His skin felt exactly as she knew it would. Hot. Supple. Densely muscled.

She yanked her hand back as if burned. “S-Sorry.”

“Whatever for, Anna?” Caden asked in a velvet soft voice.

To her horror she giggled. She hadn’t suffered a fit of nervous giggles since…Bother. She couldn’t remember the last time.

She sniffed and willed her expression to sober. “I’m…er…sorry I didn’t offer to help you don your robe. Tell me where to find it, and I will.”

He arched his unmarred brow and directed her to the valet beside his wardrobe. “Beneath my dinner jacket."

She crossed the darkened room to where the garment hung. Grasping the heavy silk, she caught a faint whiff of Caden’s spicy aftershave. Only the knowledge he watched her kept her from pulling the silk to her nose. She strode back to the bed, holding it at arm’s length.

She stalled a foot from the bed. How to help him without touching all that glorious skin?

Caden gave her a long, considering look. “I can manage, Anna.” He may as well have added, if you’re afraid.

She could do this. She must. The man needed her help. Any exertion might start his wound bleeding again. And besides. That skin.

Without warning he hoisted himself to a sitting position.

She stared, mesmerized by his rippling abdomen. Then he swayed like a drunken sailor.

“Not so fast.” She rushed forward, bolstering him upright with an arm ‘round his broad shoulders. She lay a palm across his forehead, careful to avoid his aggrieved brow, then tested the temperature against her own. Not much difference there.

He smiled, and batted his lashes at her, twice. “I’ll be right as rain, now you’re here. ”

Something about his response tempted her to let him topple. “Shall we get this on you, then?”

She considered the heavy silk grasped in her fist. He leaned into her rather heavily. If she released him to wrap the thing around his shoulders, would he crumple onto the pillows, or worse, fall over the side of the bed to land in a heap on the floor?

Her gaze drifted to his now up-close, naked torso. Her heart thudded against her ribs causing the sound of her own blood to rush in her ears. With an effort of will, she focused on her task.

Mentally bracing herself, she slung the robe one-handed across the front of him, hoping to catch it with her other hand currently occupied with holding him upright. She missed.

There was nothing for it. She angled her torso across his, robe in hand, essentially wrapping her arms around him, and found her face inches from his, and her breasts pressed against his warm chest.

Her nipples tightened. A small squeak of dismay sounded in her throat at the same time Caden hissed in a breath.

She froze, afraid to move. “I hurt you. I’m so sorry.” And she was. But perhaps, hurting him had kept him from noticing the condition of her nipples.

“No.” He ground out.

“But you…”

“Just leave the damned thing.”

“Fine.” She unwound herself from him, then gaped as he sat erect with seemingly no trouble at all.

“I’m sorry. I’m a terrible patient. You didn’t hurt me. It’s just…”

Their gazes caught and held. Primal heat burned in the liquid blue of his eyes.

“You’re an enigma to me, Anna. One minute, off-putting to the point of rudeness, insisting you need no-one and nothing save being left alone, the next, you act as if there’s no place you’d rather be than here, by my side.”

Hands trembling, she reached for the jar of salve she’d dropped on the bed in her haste to catch him, gripping it like a lifeline. “I don’t need your help.”

She didn’t look up at his grunt of annoyance.

“Caden, I’m trying to keep you out of a situation far more complicated than you comprehend.”

“So you keep telling me,” he growled.

“As for me wanting to be here and nowhere else, you’re right there, also.” She laughed softly, less embarrassed than she ought to be. If anything, her admission left her feeling more free than she had in a long time

She opened the pot of salve, and held it to her nose.

Lavender, frankincense, honey, thyme. She’d pieced together one of her mother’s recipes with another she’d found in a herbal she’d discovered in Lady Wentworth’s library, of all places.

Such mixtures not only aided in healing bruises and scrapes, they had an added benefit as an aromatic tonic for nerves—she’d simply never needed them for her nerves. It worked better than she knew.

She set the jar on the side table with a click. “Are you going to say anything?”

“Yes.”

She slanted him a glance, waiting.

His mouth curved in an apologetic smile. “I do need help getting into this thing.” He held the robe out to her like a peace offering.

Shaking her head, a helpless, answering smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. She took the garment and draped the rich silk over his broad shoulders easily now that she didn’t need to hold him upright. A cozy sense of intimacy unlike any she’d ever known seemed to envelop them.

She pulled the lapels open wide. “Right arm first. Slowly.”

The simple act of lifting his arm had his chest muscles flexing and his abdominals firming. A delicious tickle started in her belly. Her hands tightened reflexively on the lapels.

“Now the left,” she whispered.

He obeyed, and her gaze dropped to the narrowing trail of tawny hair that disappeared under the waistband of his snug-fitting black trousers.

“Did I miss an errant spray of blood?”

Her gaze shot to his face. “Er…No. That is, I thought perhaps I saw some…thing?” she finished weakly. Damn the too-observant man.

“Mm.”

How he laced the one-syllabic answer with such evident amusement was beyond her. Lifting her chin, she pretended not to notice.

Making no further comment, he tugged the lapels of his robe from her clenched fingers. In unhurried movements, he closed the robe, cinched the tie, and settled back onto his pillows, arms folded behind his neck. The repose left his throat and collar bones bared to her.

Face burning, she grasped the open jar and dipped her finger into the luxurious ointment. “May I apply your salve now?”

“By all means, Doctor Jones.”

She swallowed and shifted to face him, schooling her features into a mask of detached professionalism. She hoped.

She’d seen any number of things while accompanying her father on any number of house calls over the years, men’s throats, partial midriffs and more.

Yet glimpsing the slight depression at the base of Caden’s throat where his heartbeat pulsed made her want to do brazen things like lean forward to demand he kiss her like he had this morning .

She wouldn’t, of course. Pride, not decorum saw to that.

She could not forget him breaking off their kiss as if his life depended on it. One minute she was entering heaven’s gate, the next, he was across the room boasting about how much she enjoyed his kisses .

No, she would not demand he kiss her. If he refused, she would die of mortification.

Besides, he needed her salve. With care, she dabbed the gooey tincture over his laceration, working her way outward ’til she’d spread the mixture across the entire inflamed area.

“Better?” she asked.

“I’d say it feels too damned good.”

The husky growl of his voice had goose flesh fanning over her body. Her gaze met his.

Caden stared at her through a blazing swirl of wild blue.