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His gaze went to the blood soaking the sleeve of her dress. “And send someone to tend to your injury?”
“It’s only a scratch,” she assured him as she slowly climbed the stairs. Her legs were bruised by the feel of it. “And yes, a bath would be nice.”
“I’ll have a bath sent up immediately.”
She thanked him and continued up the staircase. What a sight she must have made, what with the mud clinging to her and all.
By the time she reached her bedchamber, she was shivering. She shut the door and started removing her clothes. Once she got out of them, she’d feel a lot better.
There was a knock at her door. Figuring it was Bessie, she called out, “Enter,” and slipped out of the last of her things as the door opened and closed.
“I heard you were hurt,” came a familiar voice that definitely didn’t belong to Bessie.
Gasping, she looked up and saw Alexander. She made a futile attempt to cover herself.
He headed over to her. “You’re bleeding.”
“It’s nothing,” she said.
“It’s not nothing. You’re dripping blood on the floor.”
She groaned when she realized he wasn’t going to leave her alone. “It’s a gash, nothing more.”
She held her wounded arm out to him while doing her best to cover herself with her other arm, and that really didn’t do much good.
He gently took her arm and studied the long gash that ran from her elbow down to the middle of her arm. Dabbing the blood away with the sleeve of his shirt, he released his breath.
“You’re right. It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“No, it’s not. Now can I have my arm back?”
“Oh, of course.”
She took the opportunity to try to conceal more of herself.
When there was a knock at the door, she said, “That’s probably my bath.”
“I’ll have them bring it in.”
Before she could argue that she wanted him to get out of there so she could bathe in private, he was already at the door and telling the servants where to put the tub. She even overheard him telling Bessie that he was going to take care of her.
Her eyes grew wide. What was he doing? It wasn’t his place to wash her or help her with her clothes. But she couldn’t speak up and protest, not when the servants were in the room. “I’m going to help you wash the mud out of your hair and tend to that arm.”
His gaze lowered. “Did you hurt your legs?”
“Bruises,” she muttered and hurried past him so she could get into the tub.
She’d been standing naked in front of h
im long enough, and even though she did her best to hide her breasts and the other notable part of her body from him, she didn’t think she was doing that great of a job.
She slipped into the tub and winced. The hot water was enough to sting her skin, but she would rather risk getting red than remain naked in front of him.
“The maids brought in soap and towels,” he said, though she thought it unnecessary since they did that every time she took a bath. “They also brought bandages to put on your wound if necessary.”
She nodded and got as comfortable as she could in the tub. She took a deep breath and brought her legs up to her chest. That was better. Now he couldn’t see so much of her.
When she dared a glance over at him, he was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He picked up the bar of soap and dipped it in the water.
