Free Ransomed Jewels by Laura Landon

with water and handed it to her.
    The water tasted good, and she drank nearly all of it before handing it back.
    He reached for the clean bandages and salve Maude kept ready on the table beneath the window. “Bronnely sent word he can’t come this afternoon to change your bandages.”
    “Then Maude can do it later.”
    “I’ll do it now.”
    Claire felt a hitch in her breathing. She didn’t want him to change the bandage. She didn’t want him anywhere near her. “It can wait until—”
    He didn’t give her the opportunity to argue but sat on the edge of the bed. With deft movements, he unfastened the top buttons on her gown and pushed the material over her shoulder.
    Although only her shoulder was uncovered, she felt strangely exposed and looked away. Ministering to her did not seem to bother him in the slightest. Not like it bothered her.
    He removed the bandage from her shoulder with the same nonchalance as he might use to remove his hat.
    Claire kept her gaze focused on the ceiling, making an effort not to look at the way his broad shoulders stretched the material of his white lawn shirt. Her blood thundered in her veins and bubbled like boiling water trapped in a kettle. Her face flamed with a searing heat, and she chastised herself again for letting him affect her like he did.
    What was wrong with her? What more would it take to convince her that he was her most dangerous enemy? That to protect herself, the wall she’d so expertly erected must be firmly in place?
    He’d removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. She made the mistake of focusing on the bronzed skin of his exposed forearms. A strange swirling churned low in her belly that warmed her all over, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, how she prayed he’d hurry.
    “Bronnely did a good job. You’re healing fine,” he said, cleaning the wounds with a soft woolen cloth. “Has the pain lessened?”
    “Yes. It’s much better.”
    When he was satisfied the cuts on her shoulder and arm were clean, he opened the jar of salve Bronnely said was best for preventing infection.
    “What do you suppose this is?” he said, lifting the jar and smelling it. “Or would you rather not know?”
    The strong odor permeated the room and she wrinkled her nose. “I think I’d rather not know. In fact, I’m certain of it.”
    He concentrated on finishing, and Claire thought she saw a hint of a smile cross his face. She wished he hadn’t smiled. It made him seem almost human. She preferred he remain cold and hard. And distant. That made it easier to remember that he was the enemy.
    He finished in silence, then placed the salve and cloth on the bedside table and stood. He walked to the window and pulled the drapery open. His stance was rigid, his legs braced wide and his hands clasped behind his back.
    Claire waited, knowing he had something on his mind.
    “Do you know where I was before returning?”
    He didn’t wait for her to answer.
    “I went to talk to your brother, the Marquess of Halverston.”
    Her heart stuttered. “Why?”
    He slowly turned his head and glanced at her over his shoulder. “Because you called out for him in your fever. I thought perhaps you wanted to see him.”
    Claire’s heart raced faster, each thud pounding against her ribs. “Did you find him?”
    “No. No one’s seen him for more than a week. Not even his friends at his clubs.”
    “You went to his clubs?”
    He lifted the corners of his mouth in a grin that even in her wildest imagination could not be considered a smile. “Yes. Did you think they wouldn’t allow me entrance?”
    Claire felt her cheeks grow hot. “No. It’s not that. I . . .”
    “I imposed on my uncle’s good name.”
    She stared at him, waiting for him to explain.
    “The Marquess of Rainforth is my uncle. I’m the only son of his younger brother. Not titled—nor ever likely to be because of my cousin, Ross Bennett, Earl of Cardmall—but a relative nevertheless. Does that surprise