Page 5 of Joy to the Earl

She took his hand. “You were in a carriage accident. The wheels skidded on a patch of ice and tipped into the ditch outside the manor entrance. I’m so very sorry, but the driver, and the other man…your employer, perhaps…they passed away.”

Jack shuddered. “I can’t…I can’t remember. Hell.”

“It’s all right,” she said quickly, squeezing his hand again and stroking his arm. “I’m sure everything will come back in the morning; you did get a nasty bump to the head. But you were soaked to the skin and turning the color of blueberries, so I had to cut your clothing off and get you warm.”

“You saved my life.”

“I had help. My uncle and aunt, Sir Donald and May, Lady Kilburne. And Mr. Phillip and Mrs. Claire Vale. It’s after eleven in the evening, so you can meet them tomorrow. I know they’ll be so glad to see you awake and speaking. But what about you? Is there someone I can write to in the morning?”

Sadness gripped him. “No. My mother passed just over a year ago. I don’t have a father, or brothers and sisters.”

Rosalind nodded, her smile sympathetic. “Perhaps a wife? Fiancée?”

“No, I’m not married. And I don’t have a fiancée…” he finished uncertainly, as something tugged at the edge of his mind. London? But why the hell would he go there? He didn’t know anyone in the capital, let alone a lady.

“Don’t tax yourself anymore. You need rest. I’ll warm some water and clean that goose egg on your head. You’ve got some bruising on your shoulder too.”

In minutes she had a porcelain bowl of water, a soft linen cloth, a small basket of distilled herbs, and a shawl to wrap around her own shoulders. Settling next to him again, Rosalind hummed to herself as she leaned back and forth between his temple and the basket, dabbing and dipping and pressing, her unfettered breasts bobbing with each movement.

Jack turned away and stared at the fire, concentrating on keeping his breathing even and not moaning at the goodness of her touch. He could do this. It was just his head and shoulder. Yet he couldn’t stop a hiss of pleasure when the edge of the cloth scraped his nipple.

“Oh! I’m sorry. A bit clumsy, was I? Well then. Let’s look at that leg of yours.”

“No!” he choked out, gripping the only thing between himself and embarrassment. If she uncovered him… “It’s fine, honestly.”

“It’s not fine,” she said sternly, reaching for the quilt. “Your leg was trapped under a piece of door…oh my.”

He turned his head back, but her gaze was firmly fixed on his groin. A thick silence ensued, as his cock grew impossibly bigger and harder under her pink-cheeked yet avid stare. But he couldn’t move, not when Rosalind’s nipples visibly hardened under her chemise and she licked her lips. How could this kind, caring, and stunningly lovely woman be aroused by someone like him? Even the thought of kissing her, touching her, having her lush body underneath him…Christ. It would be paradise.

“You don’t have to tend me. I know what I am. Just give me the cloth,” he said between frantic gulps of air.

“And if I want to tend you very much?” Rosalind whispered, caressing his thigh.

His hips lifted involuntarily, nudging her hand higher, and when she brushed his cock, he groaned and murmured please. Gently yet firmly, Rosalind encircled his massive erection with her fingers and caressed the damp head with her thumb.

He came.

Horrified at his lack of control, Jack could only gasp and buck in mindless pleasure as his cock erupted, sending several long spurts of seed onto his abdomen and Rosalind’s hand.

“Sorry,” he gritted out, pure humiliation setting his face afire. The only opportunity he would ever have to be with a woman like her: in the aftermath of a situation where she pitied him enough to touch him, where the firelight disguised his eyes and misshapen hip, and he’d made an utter mess of it. Literally. In less than a minute.

“Don’t apologize,” she said, her kind smile only making it worse.

Swiftly, he grabbed a thin blanket from a pile on the floor, and wrapped it around himself. “I hate to inconvenience you, Lady Nelson, but if you could please direct me to a guest chamber or belowstairs—hell, the stables would do—and I’ll be on my way to the nearest town as soon as I can.”

“Jack. Mr. Reynolds. It’s all right, really it is. And this is a guest chamber.”

“Ah. Well, thank you. I really am quite tired,” he lied, praying she would leave so he could stand up without revealing his uneven gait, and the leg that occasionally just collapsed beneath him. The last thing tonight needed was another dose of utter humiliation.

Rosalind bit her lip. “Very well. If you’re sure…”

He nodded. The sooner it was morning, the sooner he could be gone from this place and back to being alone, the better.

Chapter 2

“So, my dear, tell us about our newest friend.”

Rosalind glanced around the dining table. It was Uncle Donald who finally asked the question during their usual hearty country breakfast, but Aunt May and Claire had both given up the pretense they were buttering toasted bread or sipping tea, and were watching her like hawks, equally curious. Phillip, meanwhile, was constructing a wall of fried potato on his plate.