The knocking stopped abruptly, but then, to his shock, the front door creaked open. He half-rose, wincing in pain, when he heard soft footsteps moving around in the main room of the cottage, which consisted of a large living area and a small kitchen.
“Go away,” he called again. “All I want is to be left in peace.”
The person in the other room completely ignored him, their footsteps continuing and then pausing right outside his half-open door. “Flynn? I’ve brought you some things to welcome you home. May I come in?”
The soft feminine voice was far too cultured to be a servant, and he knew immediately that it wasn’t Violet. He frowned, trying to think who else it might be.
When he didn’t say anything, a lovely brunette stepped into the room. Her dark hair fell in soft ringlets about her soft face, her dark eyes were expressive and large, and she stared at him with all the care and yearning he’d hoped to see from Violet.
“Oh, Flynn! Violet told me you’d been injured.” She rushed forward, carrying a large basket, and sank down on the bed at his hip, the soft scent of vanilla filling his senses.
She pressed her cool hand to his forehead, and he sighed, letting his eyes close at the sweetness of it, only to have them snap open again as he suddenly realized who she was. “Daisy?” he asked cautiously because the beautiful woman sitting beside him bore hardly any resemblance to the little waif who’d sworn she’d love him forever five years ago.
Daisy bit her lip and nodded, suddenly all business. “You’re feverish. Can you let me see your wound? I’ve brought a salve and some clean bandages.”
Nonplussed, he simply stared at her. “Did Violet send you?”
“In a manner of speaking. She wanted me to come and make sure you didn’t tell your brother about her shockingly forward behavior with you that May Day before you left.” Her face reddened a bit, and he wondered if she was thinking of her own behavior, how she’d tried to warn him away from Violet and declared her own feelings for him.
He sighed and found himself reached for the edge of his shirt, lifting it so she could see his bandaged wound. It was hurting even more today than it had yesterday, and he’d felt exhausted all morning. If she’d brought something that would ease the pain a bit, she was more than welcome to try. “Well, I wish she’d have come to talk to me about that herself.”
Daisy carefully eased the bandage away from his skin, gasping when she saw what lay beneath. “This is infected. What happened to you?”
He glanced down, wincing a bit when he saw how red and inflamed the wound had become. “It didn’t look like that last time I changed it.” He should have changed his bandage last night, but he’d been well on the mend when he’d left London, and he’d been too tired and heartsick after he’d found out Violet was married to Heath to bother. “I ended up on the wrong side of some Russian’s saber, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve been so worried about you, Flynn.” She pressed her hand against his hot forehead once again, her touch so sweet and comforting that it almost brought tears to his eyes. It had been so long since anyone had touched him with tenderness, and this was how he had fantasized that Violet would care for him. He’d been so certain that she’d nurse him back to health, had left the hospital sooner than his doctors had advised because he’d been so certain that if he could just get home...
He cut those dangerous thoughts off, forcing himself to deal with this new reality. “You don’t have to do this,” he muttered. “I’m sure there is someone up at the manor who can—”
Her fingertips slid to his lips, stopping his words. “Nonsense. I know a bit about nursing. I helped take care of my father when he was thrown from his horse and badly injured.”
The feel of her fingers against his lips arrested him, and he found himself fighting the urge to kiss them. Daisy’s dark eyes held his, and he realized that after all this time, she still cared for him. He had no idea what he’d done to instill such loyalty in her, but he was suddenly absurdly grateful. If only her sister had been so faithful...
Clearing her throat, she dropped her gaze and dropped her hand. Standing, she went over to the fireplace and stoked the flames. “Let me just heat some water to clean the wound.”
He waited helplessly as she bustled around for a while, putting a pot on to boil in the fireplace in his room. Then she cleared away all the remnants of the meals that had been sent down from the manor, piling the dishes in the sink in the kitchen and fixing him a fresh plate of cheese and bread she’d brought with her. He tried several more times to tell her that one of his brother’s servants could come and do all this for him, but she blithely ignored him.
At last, he laid back against the pillows she’d fluffed for him, content to let her work her magic. Honestly, he was in too much pain to resist her, and he quite liked the way it felt to have someone taking care of him in such a manner, even if it wasn’t the someone he wanted.
“Why do you think she did it?” he asked, the words finally seeming to escape of their own volition. “Why do you think she led me on in if she never had any intention of waiting for me?”
Daisy froze for a moment in the process of filling a small bowl with hot water, then carried it carefully over to his bed. She placed it on the nightstand, then dipped a clean washcloth in it. “This might sting a bit,” she warned, as she pressed it against his wound.
He gasped, but the initial pain soon gave way as the warmth sank into his ravaged flesh. “That feels good,” he murmured.
“I’ll make you a tea that should ease the pain and lower your fever,” she told him softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes with her free hand. Again, the moment suddenly seemed very intimate.
As though she sensed it as well, she pulled her hand away and cleared her throat. “Violet likes to be the center of attention,” she said at last in answer to his question as she took some more things out of her bag and went back to the kettle. “I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you. She never means to hurt anyone. She’s just... thoughtless.”
He shook his head. “You don’t understand. We’ve been corresponding for years. She bared her soul to me in those letters, and I can’t believe that she’s the shallow, vapid thing she appears to be now. How could she have written to me like that... and continued to do so even after she had married my brother... if she didn’t mean it?” He knew his heart was on his sleeve right now, but he’d been going crazy ever since he’d taken himself off to the cottage and desperately needed to talk about this with someone.
“I don’t know.” Daisy looked at him over her shoulder, something a little guilty in her gaze. He wondered suddenly what she had to be guilty about? Did she feel badly for what her sister had done? Had she known about this all along? Had they laughed about it together...?
He sighed and pressed the hot cloth a little tighter to his wound, trying to shake such thoughts from his mind. Daisy had been nothing but kind to him. He couldn’t paint her with the same brush as her sister. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking about this with you.”
“It’s all right,” she murmured, coming back with a mug full of something that smelled spicy and setting it on the nightstand to steep. “I know how frustrating she can be.”
Her wry grin caught him off guard. Little Daisy really had blossomed into a beautiful woman. Though not as classically beautiful as Violet, Daisy had an earthy sensuality that he found very alluring. The mere thought seemed disloyal, and he cut it off, determined not to give up on Violet completely until he’d heard her side of the story.
