Page 30 of A Lady's Dangerous Secret
“Charlotte?” He stood and put his hands on her shoulders instinctively. She flinched. “Dammit, I didn’t mean to jostle your neck.” Her blue eyes flitted to his face, which was a morsel of reassurance James devoured.
“What happened?” she murmured, her eyelids fluttering.
James gulped. “You were waiting for me by the mews, and some bastard attacked you.” He wanted to skirt around the truth to ease his guilt, but he had to be honest with her.
Her eyes widened. He tenderly grabbed each of her hands and rubbed his thumbs on top. “I’m so sorry.”
She crinkled her nose. Her inquisitive mind churned despite the shock.
“There was a gun,” she whispered.
“Yes, I believe it was yours. It felt quite small in my oafish hand.” James gave a half smile after his attempt at levity.
She took a big swallow, and her hand flew up to her throat. “What happened here?”
“The man threatened you with a dagger at your neck and pressed a bit too hard.” He did not want her to realize she had frozen in the midst of the altercation.
“Where is he?” she asked softly.
“Dead.”
“Good,” she responded definitively.
Her answer surprised him. Despite everything that had happened, she was still fighting. His heart swelled, then quickly deflated as he reminded himself she could never be his.
A knock on the door preceded Dawson, who walked into the room with a nightgown. James nodded to the far end of the bed.
“I’m going to use alcohol to clean your wound before we get you ready to sleep,” he said.
She warily eyed the bottle of cheap alcohol on the bedside table. James poured another dram of brandy. “Please drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”
He offered her the glass.
Charlotte grabbed it and drained it in one motion, flinching again with the jostling of her wound. She looked at him. “Captain Hughes, you’re going to catch flies in your mouth.”
He closed his mouth and grinned, relief washing over him. She remained pale and admonished him in a weaker voice than usual, but she seemed to be on the mend. “I see you don’t mind the taste of brandy.”
“I stole it from my brothers all the time. Clean the wound and be done with it.”
“Of course, my lady,” James responded, and fought a smile from her bossiness. “Dawson is going to hold your arms down. There’ll be a bad sting.”
“I was always scraped up as a girl. I’ll be fine. Dawson, no need to restrain me.”
Dawson stepped back, but remained nearby in case he was needed.
James was not used to his orders being challenged…ever. But this slip of a woman had just put him in his place, and he did not care. He adjusted the candle on the bedside table to provide optimum light before he poured alcohol on the rag.
“On the count of three. One…two…three.” He cleaned the wound with the alcohol-drenched fabric. She let out a hiss but did not jump up like some of his men.
However, he caught several select words he had last heard on his ship.
“You have quite the vocabulary,” he teased.
“You’ll be hearing a lot more if you don’t hurry. I had four brothers to learn from.”
He poured additional alcohol onto the rag and quickly cleaned the area once more.
Charlotte clenched the counterpane in her hands, but she remained stoic throughout the ordeal.
