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Chapter Four
Edward woke up to a nightmare. Faceless men with knives were stabbing him everywhere. He tried to fight them but failed and then they left him for dead—
In the distance, someone screamed. Edward realized mutely that the voice belonged to him.
Immediately a figure rushed to him. “Are you all right?”
Edward blinked, disoriented and his vision blurred. He tried to sit up, grasping blindly in front of him. He managed to catch on to something warm and soft and drew it closer, snug against him. But it began to struggle against his arms.
“Let me go, Sir!” a feminine, sultry voice said. Edward didn’t want to let her go but realized, with dawning horror that a woman was in his arms. And not only that, he had forced her there.
His vision cleared and the woman finally came into proper view. She stood right over him, her heaving bosom pulling his attention to it before his eyes traveled upward and her face came into view. Sweet Lord. She had the prettiest gray-blue eyes he had ever seen. They snared his attention and kept it there, refusing to let him go. Those same gray-blue eyes had followed him into his nightmares, into his dreams. She had beckoned to him, pulling him into the light. Even without any knowledge of the truth, he knew she was the one who had saved his life.
The woman waved a hand in front of his face and that was able to help break the spell. “You all right, Sir?”
Edward wasn’t all right. His entire body ached terribly. He tried to remember what had happened the previous night but the memories seemed murky. He was at Charles’ house. They had a debate and he had tried to prove him wrong by stupidly venturing into a dangerous neighborhood.
“Where am I?” Edward asked, looking around the room. He couldn’t make much out of it as there was nothing else except a bed, a table, and a chair with a blanket on it. Had she slept next to him the whole night? Who was she? He had so many questions and that made his head hurt more.
He pressed a hand to his head. The woman went out of the room and returned a couple of minutes later with a pitcher of water. “Drink this. Maybe it will help.”
Edward guzzled down the water, not realizing until that moment how thirsty he had been. When he was done, he handed the glass back.
“Where did you find me?”
“In front of a notorious pub,” she said. “What were you doing there? You don’t look like someone who is seen in our neighborhood.”
The woman spoke in an informal way. That and along with the simple clothes she wore gave the impression that she wasn’t a part of his usual circle. “Is this your home?”
The woman nodded.
“Am I still in the slum?” he asked. Her face reddened and she cast her eyes downward before nodding. Edward regretted asking her that question. This woman had in all probability saved his life and yet he was being an ungrateful brat.
“Forgive me, my intention wasn’t to hurt or cause you embarrassment. I was simply curious about my location.”
“This is indeed the Clerkenwellslum.” She stressed the word slum so he knew that was what had offended her. “I’m sorry that my home displeases you, Sir.” She spoke the words politely but Edward could taste the anger behind them. She was no Lady but she was well groomed, that much was evident. Her clothes, though, were a different story. Patchworks and stitches ran all over the length. She had probably sewn it over again and again. Edward’s sister threw her gown away after three good uses.
“You misunderstood me,” Edward said and then he realized he didn’t know her name. “What’s your name?”
The woman gave him a suspicious look before she cleared her throat and said, “Ariadne. Ariadne Davy.”
Edward pronounced her name on the tip of his tongue. It had a nice ring to it.
He tried to adjust himself on the bed but the tiny movement caused terrible pain to shoot down his body. He looked down and to his horror, there was a big gash on the side of his stomach.
Ariadne stepped forward to help him sit up. Her smell surrounded him. She smelled faintly of lavender. Edward inhaled her and felt his heart calm.
“I stitched you up. So you don’t have to worry about catching an infection,” Ariadne said. “Besides it didn’t touch your organs. You will heal.” She looked down at the wound as she spoke, slightly stroking the sides.
Edward was looking at her. “How do you know that?” She had stitched him up? How did she even know how to do that? She didn’t look like a nurse, or maybe he was being too quick to judge her.
“Know what?” Ariadne looked up and met his eyes. As soon as their closeness registered on her face, she took a step back, her face coloring again.
“That my wound isn’t grave,” he continued.
“The blood flow stopped on its own before I brought you here. Besides, I have studied the basics of anatomy. You’ll be fine, Sir.”
The thought of her tracing her nimble fingers on his naked body as he slept made heat shoot down his spine. He adjusted himself so that Ariadne wouldn’t notice what power her simple words held over him. Christ! He was acting like a barbarian.
