Page 46 of A Touch of Charm
“Come, I’ll take a look,” Andre said as he put one hand again on her back and the other under her bottom. Before she could say anything, Andre had lifted her into his arms.
He was carrying her. She liked it more than she cared to admit.
While Stan and Mary were momentarily ahead in the brief moment that they walked through the halls of Cloverdale House, Thea closed her eyes. Still in Andre’s arms, she let the tension go. After one last deep breath, she managed to stop crying.
“If you hadn’t come in time—” she started but choked on the horror that he saved her from.
His grip tightened, and he looked deeply into her eyes. “I wouldn’t have stopped trying to find you.”
“Until what?” Thea asked.
“Ever.” Andre’s voice grew serious, and there was a certain heaviness to it that spoke of deep sorrow. Just a few more doors down the hall, and they’d be in his treatment room. Thea had never been inside, but it was close and soon, he’d have to set her down. Too soon.
Of course, she loathed the circumstances of her injury, but being in this man’s arms was like reaching for the stars and grabbing one. In touching him, she committed a transgression she could not ignore—she knew it all too well. Yet, as he carried her through the solemn halls of Cloverdale House toward his treatment room, the moment felt charged, as if she were stealing a forbidden chance to connect with Andre, one she could not bear to lose.
“Did they hit you?” Andre asked in a low voice as they followed Stan with Mary in tow.
“The taller one shoved me against the wall. I think that’s when the sutures burst,” Stan mumbled. He seemed in quite some pain.
As soon as they arrived in the treatment room, Andre gingerly set Thea down on the elongated treatment table and lifted her leg with one swift motion under her knee onto the edge. “Can you straighten it?”
She nodded.
“Good. Then it’s probably not broken.” Then he turned to Stan. “Can you open your shirt so we can clean the wound, please?”
“Where’s Nurse Shira?” Mary asked.
Thea followed Andre’s gaze to the small clock on the wall. “I think she left for the day. There’s no time to send for her. Can you be my nurse?”
Mary inhaled with an air of encouragement and enterprise. “I’ll ask a servant for water to rinse his shoulder.”
Stan arched a brow at the little girl, but Thea was rather proud. Mary felt visibly useful and had learned so much since she’d come to London with Thea. Even though she was so tiny, she’d become her own person.
When Mary left, Stan spoke to Andre. “This is getting out of hand. I’ve notified my brother, and he’s coming here.” Then he turned to Thea. “Alex will arrive any day now. Together, we will confront List.”
“May I?” Andre asked and touched her boot. “I need to examine your leg.”
Thea cast a look at Stan, but he seemed unperturbed. Andre had his trust, and he was there, so Thea lifted her skirt and let Andre bare her leg.
*
She’s just likeany other patient, Andre tried to tell himself as Thea exposed her bare leg.
Just a woman like any other.
His insides churned as if every fiber of his being resisted what he tried to convince himself of.
She was a patient now, and he mustn’t think of her as the most precious and beautiful woman on Earth—perhaps the whole universe.
The confines of the treatment room felt intimate, almost conspiratorial as if the walls were listening to their every breath. Andre stood before Thea, his gaze unwavering as he gently lifted the hem of her gown, uncovering the delicate curve of her leg. The sight of her skin, usually flawless ivory, now marred by a fresh bruise, sent a fiery rage coursing through his veins.
He’d imagined it at night, unveiling her beautiful legs. And they were perfect, long, feminine, smooth—precisely as he’d pictured and better—but the moment was overshadowed by her injury, forever stolen from the magic his gentle touch would have revealed. And that made him even angrier.
His fingers trembled slightly as they hovered above the discolored mark marring her knee. “Thea,” he murmured when he palpated the bruise, his voice a deep rumble laced with barely contained fury, “does this hurt?”
She nodded.
He lay his hand on her knee, trying to soothe the pain that the criminals had inflicted.
