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‘I shall take that as a compliment, my lord.’ It was a missish reprimand. A reminder more for her to maintain formality because he was still technically the enemy who held the future of the village in the palm of his hand—but something about him called to her anyway and it wasn’t just gratitude.
He choked out a laugh, which turned into a racking cough, until he groaned as the doctor rotated his shoulder with more force than he had previously. ‘Good grief, woman!’ His clipped tone was likely more down to the rigid angle the physician was keeping his arm in than actual anger at her. ‘Now is no time to be prudish! Not when I am in my drawers and am quite convinced you are quite naked under that prim soot-stained nightgown.’ She was—but now she was worried he could see right through all the billowing layers of thick flannel to all the too bountiful, unbound curves beneath. That they all could.
‘I think we’re almost there.’ Wordlessly, Dr Able braced her and Ned for the worst as he planted his knee on the table for purchase, and all concerns about her distinct lack of modesty evaporated in her concern for him. ‘Take a deep breath in now, my lord, and hold it until I tell you.’
‘I suppose it’s too late to take up the offer of that laudanum now?’ That he could crack a joke at a time like this was impressive.
‘Just grip my hand, my lord.’ She gripped his for all she was worth, hoping he would absorb some of her strength until the deed was done.
‘But I might break your fingers... Sophie...and then you would be unable to hold your giant “Shame on you, Lord Hockley” banner at your next protest.’
He was teasing her. Distracting her, drat him, because he could see that she was worried, and he wanted her to feel better. His ingrained and thoughtful nobility was humbling.
Charming.
It made him utterly too likeable to boot.
‘Fear not. I am a tough old bird... Rafe...and as the bossy general of the whinging Whittleston Rebel Alliance I shall simply order Ned to carry it in my stead.’ She smiled and stared deep into his eyes. His held hers unwavering as he took a deep breath, then growled through his teeth as the joint finally slid home with an unimpressive pop.
As his fingers loosened, she found herself stroking his face, hers mere inches from his. ‘All done now.’ Then, embarrassed by the unexpected intimacy of the last few moments, she let her hands fall as she stood. ‘I shall go tell Archie that his stubborn big brother is still invincible and leave you to rest.’
‘Bring him up. Nobody will get rest unless he sees that for himself.’ Poor Rafe no longer looked pale. He looked grey. Or perhaps green. Yet still determined to martyr through for the sake of his sibling.
‘I will fetch him and allow him to see you briefly on only one condition.’ His deep blue eyes could narrow all they wanted, but somebody had to save him from himself, and if he wasn’t going to listen to the doctor, Sophie would make sure he listened to her. ‘And that is that you take the blasted laudanum, you obstinate, noble fool, and entrust me with taking care of Archie tonight. You are no good to him—or anyone—like this.’ She narrowed her eyes right back at him. ‘And as the most senior officer here tonight, that is my final word on the matter.’
