Gazing in the mirror hanging above his washbasin, she was standing on an uneven heap of books. He had no shelves in here, but always piled his books around the chamber because he loved being surrounded by them, and no matter where he alighted, one was always near, within easy reach. Her calves, so lovely and unblemished by her ordeal, were clearly visible because his shirt left a good bit of leg exposed—so much leg. Small feet, tiny toes, lovely, lovely calves. The sort deserving of a hundred kisses. While he tried not to look, he was, after all, a man and possessed some sort of instinct when it came to noticing when a woman was enticingly revealed.
With eyes wide and filled with dismay, she quickly turned toward him, which threw off not only her balance but that of her support. Books began shifting, sliding out of place. Her arms began windmilling—
He dropped what he was carrying and rushed forward.
During one heart-stopping second, Marlowe knew with certainty that she was going to land on her backside or worse, crack open her skull.
Instead, she found herself pressed up against a firm chest, her feet dangling over the floor, and strong arms locked around her waist, holding her in place, while hers circled broad shoulders. The shirt she was wearing had ridden up her thighs and was very close to revealing her bum, but she couldhardly care. She’d never known anyone to move with such swiftness. She’d certainly never seen so much worry and concern directed her way. He’d looked as if he might die if any harm came to her.
His brow was furrowed, his breaths were rushing in and out fast and hard, and those silver eyes had gone a darker pewter. “What the devil were you doing standing on something so unsteady? Did you not think to simply take the mirror off the wall?”
The storm had stolen her ability to think any rational thought. Which was evident because at that precise moment, she should be shoving against him and demanding he unhand her. Instead, she wanted him to carry her to that huge bed and slip beneath the blankets with her so his body could cover hers, return her to a place of safety and protection and so much heavenly warmth.
Ever since she’d opened her eyes to the sight of his backside, she’d been fighting not to remember the terror that had gripped her when she’d been plummeting back to earth. How she’d screamed even though no one was about to hear or to help or to save her.
She’d been completely and absolutely alone and had realized, at that most inopportune time, that she’d been alone for a good long while now.
But somehow, by some miracle, she’d been spared death, and she wanted to get on with living. Hence, while he’d been gone, she’d decided to at least brush the tangles from her hair. But within this chamber was no cheval glass or dressing table with a mirror. Only the small mirror on the wall that she was certain he used when he took a razorto his square jaw—which he hadn’t done for several days based on the thick stubble he was now sporting. She hadn’t been certain he’d appreciate her making herself quite so much at home as to take the mirror down. She’d been unable to locate anything to give her the height she required to gaze into it, anything she could easily move, other than the books piled around the room. But when she’d finally managed to view her reflection—
She was surprised he recognized her because she barely recognized herself. “Is my nose broken?”
Sympathy touched his eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“But all the swelling.” On either side of her red nose and beneath her eye. A gash also marred her nose. A huge scraped and discolored lump rested on the upper curve of her right cheek. It hurt like the very devil. Then there was the gash at the corner of her lower lip and a bump on her skull near her hairline.
“The sea definitely battered you. I suspect it bashed you against rocks a few times as it delivered you to shore.”
“Delivered me to shore?You say that as though it had been benevolent.”
“To be honest, it could have killed you.”
For a while she’d thought it would. She had no memory of it kindlydeliveringher anywhere. She did recall being dashed against a rock, pain ricocheting through her head as she fought to find purchase, just before being sucked back out into the unforgiving waves.
“How long will I look like this?”
He shook his head. “I’m no physician but I’vehad experience with bumps and bruises. In a few days, the swelling should lessen. The bruises will no doubt darken and then fade.”
And hopefully all the injuries elsewhere would simply go away. She’d been so comforted by his holding her and his attentions that she’d barely noticed the discomfort in her ribs, but they were beginning to protest. “You can put me down now.”
She was surprised by how slowly he did it, like setting down a fragile raw egg. Inch by inch, as though he drew as much solace from holding her as she did from being held.
Suddenly, he fairly leapt back. “Ah, Christ, the water.”
“It shouldn’t have cooled too much.”
“I was referring to that which I left heating in the kitchen.”
Then he was gone.
And she couldn’t help but think that while a storm raged, they were going to be locked in a strange sort of fellowship.
Chapter 6
Upon his first return to the bedchamber, much to his surprise, he’d discovered she’d tidied up the mess—shattered plate, butter smeared on the stone floor—placed the copper tub, which had been against a wall, in front of the fireplace and dumped the pail of water he’d left behind into it. He’d brought another plate of buttered bread along with another bucket. After that, numerous times he’d lumbered up the stairs carrying a pail in each hand. The current trip would be his last.
Like the times before it, returning to the chamber was pure torment... and absolute heaven.
With his shirt hiked up just below her hip, she sat on the bed, one leg curled beneath her, the other dangling off the edge of the mattress, her gaze focused on the windowpane where raindrops sluggishly answered gravity’s call. Beyond, the stars were still obscured, and the sea, visible only when lightning struck, continued to churn in protest of nature’s foul mood.
