Free The Marriage Spell by Mary Jo Putney

grateful for it!”
    She took another tart to eat on her way to Frayne’s room, licking her fingers clean before opening the door. Ashby was sitting with his friend, who looked awake and alert.
    The men broke off their conversation when Abby entered. The duke rose. “I’m glad to see you up and about again. You’ve had a demanding time these last days.”
    She made a face. “I’m hoping I’ll never have to do such intense work again. Could I ask you to leave, Ashby? I’d like to examine my patient.”
    â€œOf course.” The duke turned to his friend. “If you continue to recover at this rate, I may return to the hunt and leave your increasing restlessness to your valet and the patient Miss Barton.”
    â€œBy all means, hunt,” Jack said. “It’s the purpose of coming to the Shires, after all. Though I’m laid up, there’s no reason you shouldn’t be enjoying your time here.”
    â€œPerhaps I shall cease my hovering now that you’re recovering. Calling once or twice a day should be enough.” Inclining his head toward Abby, the duke departed.
    Abby scanned her patient, her hand about a foot above his body. The healing was progressing well. “If you don’t mind the loss of company, it will probably be best if your friends do return to the hunting field. Athletic young men fidget madly in sickrooms. That includes you. You are going to be difficult, aren’t you?”
    â€œI’m afraid so,” he said with no sign of repentance. “But I shan’t vex you any longer. I’m ready to return to my hunting box. You’ve already done too much. My valet and friends can look after me until I’m fit again.” He swung his legs from the bed, the splinted one straight out, and tried to stand. “You see? With a pair of crutches I could manage very well.” He straightened to his full height—and promptly pitched over.
    Abby leaped forward and grabbed his torso to keep him upright. “You’re
mad
!” she exclaimed as she wrestled with his weight. Once he was steadied, she sat on the edge of the bed, bringing him down next to her. His left arm wrapped around her shoulders as he clung to her for support.
    Holding him was…disturbing. His body was warm, and he had a fine set of muscles beneath that thin linen nightshirt. He had transformed from a helpless patient into a virile, attractive man, and that fact reminded her that she was a woman as well as a healer.
    She drew a deep, uneven breath. “You are not yet ready for crutches, my lord. If you try to walk and fall, you could make a shambles of your broken leg. At the moment it’s healing straight, but if you fall again, I can’t guarantee how well you’ll walk in the future. Or even if you
will
walk.”
    â€œPerhaps…you’re right,” he panted, sweat on his face. “I feel weak as a kitten.”
    He didn’t protest when she stood and tucked him back into the bed, though he gasped when she carefully swung his legs up onto the mattress. His face became even paler. After pulling the covers over him, she rested her hand on his forehead. Though her energy was depleted, she was able to mitigate some of the pain.
    His face eased. “Thank you. I probably deserve to fall on my face, but I can’t say that I would enjoy that.”
    â€œYou lost a great deal of blood, and that creates weakness. It will take a month or more before you recover your strength.” She smiled as she perched on the bedside chair. “Actually, kittens aren’t weak. Have you ever seen the way they race about? No human could keep up with the average kitten.”
    He had to smile at that. “Point taken. But I was feeling well enough that it was hard to believe that my injuries were as bad as Ashby described.”
    â€œThey really were that bad,” she said grimly. “Worse.”
    His brow furrowed.