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He glanced upward. The light was unlikely to be much better anywhere in the tunnels—at least here they had the filtered sunlight beaming in from overhead. He levered her back down on the hard ground, knelt at her feet and flipped up the hem of her riding habit.
She flipped it back, kicking at him with what must be the undamaged foot. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Checking for damage. I assure you I’m quite capable. I had to patch up my brothers and sister any number of times before our parents discovered what kind of trouble we were getting ourselves into. We had a tendency to climb cliffs and play pirate. I can at least ascertain if your ankle is broken. ”
“And what good would that do? If it’s broken it’s broken. ”
“If it’s broken the sooner you get it bound and splinted the less likely you are to have permanent damage. How would you feel if you could never dance again?”
A moment’s consternation showed on her face, then quickly disappeared. “There are certainly worse catastrophes in a woman’s life,” she said stiffly. “I’ve never been much for dancing.
“I remember. You did learn quite quickly, though, once you relaxed. ”
“It hardly matters when you think about the women I care for…”
So tiresome. “How would you feel if you couldn’t storm around saving your wounded doves? A crippled ankle could effectively damage your charitable activities. ”
And it was that easy. “All right. That makes a certain amount of sense. ”
“If it’s broken, I’ll get you to the nearest doctor. There has to be one in the nearest town, and your ankle can be properly dealt with. If it’s simply a sprain we can ride back and you can summon your own doctor. Surely that sounds reasonable?”
“It does. ” She looked at him from beneath her furrowed brow. “But I don’t trust you. ”
“Very wise,” he said. While they spoke he’d managed to get his hands beneath her skirt and clasped around her riding boot. At that moment he yanked, hard, and it came off, and she let out another shriek of pain, this one louder than the first.
He hadn’t wanted to hurt her, a fact he viewed with surprise. In matters like these, one usually did what one had to do and didn’t stop to consider how much it hurt. Charity Carstairs had an unfortunate effect on him.
She’d fallen back on her elbows, pale and sweating. “You could have warned me!”
“That would have made it worse. ”
“Impossible. ” Her foot jerked as he put his hands on it, gently, his fingers probing for damage. It was a nice foot, narrow, with surprisingly pretty toes. He’d never found feet particularly enticing, but hers were another matter. Then again, he was coming to the unfortunate conclusion that he found almost everything about her enticing.
“All right,” he said, keeping his voice impersonal, “this is going to hurt. ”
She managed well enough as he poked and prodded, only muffled groans letting him know when he’d reached a particularly tender spot. He began to slide his hands up her shapely calf, and she jerked, glaring at him. “You don’t need to go any higher. ”
He ignored her protest. “The pain might come from your knee, sweet Charity. I need to rule that out. ”
It was a lovely knee. He could just imagine pulling them around his hips. And he needed to stop thinking about bedding her and concentrate on the dilemma at hand, no matter how preferable the former was. Her ankle was already beginning to swell, and there was no way he’d be able to replace her boot. Which meant he’d have to carry her, which he didn’t mind but she would doubtless find maddening. He smiled.
“Not broken,” he said. “I can’t be completely sure, but I expect it’s nothing more than a sprain. You need to get it elevated, and iced, if possible. ”
“I can do neither at the moment,” she said reasonably, sitting up. “Hand me my boot so I can put it back on. ”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid not, my lady. Regardez là. ”
She glanced down at her swelling ankle and cursed most impressively beneath her breath. So she’d learned at least one useful thing from her gaggle. “How am I supposed to walk with only one boot?” she said with some asperity.
“You aren’t. ” He rose, bent down and scooped her up effortlessly. She was fairly light, and he was strong, used to controlling difficult horses. He could handle her with ease.
“I don’t like this,” she said in a warning voice, her usual serenity deserting her. A good thing, that. Her usual calm infuriated him, when he wanted to see her as rattled as she made him feel.
“I know you don’t,” he said with great good cheer. “One of the few blessings of this afternoon. ”
He expected that would make her ire rise even higher, but to his astonishment she laughed. “You,” she began, “are a very bad man. Though I don’t know why that should surprise me—you’re one of the wicked House of Rohan, are you not? I imagine your family’s perfidy predates even the Heavenly Host. ”
“Most assuredly. We’re devotedly incorrigible. Which direction would you prefer—right or left?”
