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He would decide that for himself. Taking the stairs one step at a time, Mac tried not to think too much on the feel of Mabel in his arms, her body soft and yielding, long and slender.
Clearing his throat, his fingers tightened on her and she sucked in a tight breath. He paused immediately. “What is it?”
Her gaze flicked away. “Nothing.”
“Mabel, be honest with me, please.”
* * *
Be honest? The man wanted her to be honest with him? Perhaps she ought to tell him that while she was doing her utmost to give Mr. Wright every opportunity to prove that she could be content as his wife, he was falling short of the mark because she compared each and every thing he said and did to Mac. And, unfair as it was, nothing anyone could do quite measured up to Mac in her stupid, nonsensical eyes.
“It really is nothing,” she said.
“If it was nothing, would I be carrying you upstairs right now?”
Resisting the urge to scoff, Mabel glanced about for anything to settle her attention on besides Mac’s handsome, startlingly close face. The feel of his hands holding her, his heart beating rapidly against her shoulder, was enough to drive a woman mad.
“You are carrying me because you are a stubborn mule and could not allow a footman the pleasure of being the hero,” she said. He tugged her leg closer again and she stifled the gasp this time, but the way he pulled her in was both heady and painful.
“I can see the strain in your eyes, Mabel,” he said, lowering his voice. “Can you not just tell me how badly you’ve hurt yourself? How far you fell?”
“I only missed the last few rungs of the ladder. I fell hard on my bad leg and it was something of a chore getting home. It is nothing, but Giulia would not allow me to walk inside.”
“A wise woman.”
“Thank you,” Giulia said from behind Mac. Mabel lifted her head to look over his shoulder and found her friend trailing just behind them, lifting her skirts to follow them up the last few steps and down the corridor. “I have some experience in the matter.”
Mabel leaned closer, whispering. “You would do well not to make an enemy of my friend, you know. She can be quite a formidable opponent.”
Mac glanced down, holding her gaze, and she stilled, trapped in his fiery gaze. “So can I.”
He stopped in the corridor and Giulia came around him to open the door to Mabel’s bedchamber. “If you could just lay her on the bed, that would be much appreciated.”
Mac’s steps seemed to slow as he went into Mabel’s room, looking about him like a distracted child. Bending, he carefully set her on the mattress, slipping his hands from underneath her, his fingers dragging slowly away. Her breath caught but she tried to disguise it with a poorly executed cough.
“That will be all,” Giulia said, standing sentinel near the head of the bed.
Mac remained, feet planted firmly on the wood-planked floor, his gaze fixed on Mabel. “What can I do for you?”
“Understand that I am far from death’s door, sir. All I need is a decent night’s rest, and I shall be recovered by tomorrow.”
His voice lowered. “Is this typical?”
She tried to appear unaffected by his concern, but she was wholly aware of the tall, handsome man standing above her, worried for her. “I do not typically fall, no. But when my leg aches, it usually requires nothing more than a night’s rest to restore it to functionality.”
“I deeply hope that will be the case. I should like to request the first dance at Miss Pepper’s ball tomorrow.”
Warmth bloomed in Mabel’s chest, spreading through her body and down her limbs.
“Can I plan on that, Mabel?” His voice was low, husky.
She glanced to Giulia before directing a nod at Mac.
He bowed. “Goodnight, ladies. If there is anything you stand in need of, please do not hesitate to call on me. I am your servant.”
Mac walked from the room and Giulia followed him to close the door. Spinning back, she lifted an eyebrow. “If you think you are going to refrain from telling me what all of that was about, then you are sorely mistaken.”
“I do not know—”
