Page 47 of A Touch of Charm
“Can you bend your leg?” he asked, gently gripping the ankle and pushing it up.
She winced, but her range of motion did not diminish. “It’s not broken.”
“How long till it heals?” Stan asked from behind Andre, seemingly watching them together.
But Andre didn’t want to hide his raw emotions anymore. “It will look terrible for a few days and then fade from blue to green to yellow.”
“It’s not worse than when I fell off the cherry tree at Bran,” she said wistfully, but Stan shot her a piercing look, one reflecting the concern of a brother for his sister.
“It’s very different. That was an accident back then, and you were nine. This was a crime against a member of the royal family.” He swallowed. “And what’s worse, it was another attack on my family. And for that, List shall pay. I need Alex here while my shoulder is healing.”
Andre wondered what Stan planned that he needed his older brother Alex with him, but he knew it wasn’t his place to ask.
Mary arrived, a metal bowl of water in her hands and a muslin towel over her shoulder. “I’m ready to tend to the princess,” she declared solemnly, setting the bowl down.
“Mary, this is too small,” Andre said but Stan had already come to Mary’s side.
“There must be something else we can use. Take some of these muslins, please, Nurse Mary.” The little girl beamed at Stan. “And then, could you help me to find my valet?” Stan asked and left before Andre could tend to him more, but he was grateful that his little nurse distracted Stan so that he could speak to Thea.
“I shouldn’t have let this happen,” he whispered.
She hesitated, her lashes fluttering as she sought the courage to speak. Her vulnerability sharply contrasted with the usual vivacity that danced in her eyes, a reminder of the violation she had endured. “They… they kicked me,” she whispered, the words tumbling out, each one a dagger to Andre’s heart. “When I bent over, they shoved me against a tree.”
Andre’s jaw tightened, and his neck muscles corded with tension as he fought to contain his emotions. The thought that those no-do-gooders touched her was insufferable, the reality spreading with bitterness in his throat so that he could hardly swallow, as if he couldn’t allow the atrocities of the crime to sink in.
Her vulnerability drew him in and wrapped him in a protective haze that was both tender and fierce.
“I should have been there,” Andre said, his voice a low growl of self-recrimination. “I promised to protect you, and I failed.”
Thea reached out, her fingers cool against the warmth of his cheek. She tilted his head until his eyes met hers, luminous and steady despite the turmoil reflected within them. “You saved me, Andre. You found me when I was nearly lost to them.”
“This will take a while to heal, and you’re in pain.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe the horror of his words.
“It will heal, and it will be forgotten.”
“I won’t forget this, and neither will Stan.”
“If this Prussian baron is so dangerous, I’d prefer that you both stay away from him instead of avenging a bruise by risking your lives.”
Her words were a balm, soothing the raw edges of his guilt, yet the fire within him only burned hotter. He could not let this transgression go unanswered. The stakes had never been higher; the very core of his being demanded justice—demanded that he ensure such a threat could never reach her again.
Swallowing hard, Andre took a deliberate breath, his resolve hardening like steel. “They will pay for what they’ve done,” he vowed, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it resonated with the weight of an unbreakable promise.
Thea’s fingers combed through his hair, a gesture meant to comfort but which only fueled the desire simmering beneath his skin. The proximity of her body, the scent of her mingling with the vial of arnica oil he uncorked, and the lingering adrenaline of their earlier ordeal were intoxicating. He longed to draw her closer and assure her of safety with more than words.
Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. The contact was electric, a spark that ignited the air between them. “Andre,” she breathed, her voice a soft caress. “I trust you.”
The admission was a heady rush, more potent than the finest brandy, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to close the scant distance between their lips. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly over her cheeks as if to memorize the texture of her skin, the shape of her resolve.
“I will never let anyone harm you,” he declared, fiery and fierce. The promise hung between them, heavy with the weight of all it implied.
And that’s why he had to stand back as he did.
“We’ve got water,” Mary called from the door, but it was Stan who carried the heavy bowl.
And that distracted Andre from the heady feelings about the princess coursing through him. Mary got to work and started to rinse Stan’s wound, but he guided her since her arms were too short to even reach up to his shoulder.
“You’re an excellent nurse,” Stan said and winked in Andre’s direction with a patient-to-doctor look saying, “I can manage it, don’t worry.”
