Page 24 of My Rogue, My Ruin
“Fetch Mrs. Frommer,” she heard him say to someone out of her line of sight. “And not a word to anyone, Percival.” The stable boy. He could be trusted to keep quiet on the errand to find the housekeeper, though Brynn detested he or Gray, or anyone at all, having to fret over her and herdamnableweak lungs.
“Of course, milord.”
Minutes later, Percival was back with their housekeeper. Brynn could barely see, her eyes watered so. Someone pressed a cup to her lips. Despite being intimately familiar with it, she almost choked at the sour herbal taste. It was the remedy the cook made, which usually eased the affliction, though it tasted like an underripe cherry wrapped in mint leaves. She forced herself to finish it, as she always did, and the herbal tea made its way down her throat, clearing her passages. After a few moments, her breathing, although punctuated by a few persistent coughs, started to return to normal.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking at her brother’s anxious face as he tucked a blanket around her. She hated causing that expression, and though she knew it was unfounded, felt guilty for it. “It must have been the early morning air. I took a chill, that’s all. I’m fine now.”
Gray placed a hand to her cheek. “You are cold as ice. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t know,” Brynn said, her teeth chattering at the sudden brutal chill in her bones. The truth was she simply hadn’t noticed, given the shock of the last few hours. The night’s chilly temperatures must have taken hold.
“Come, let’s get you inside,” Gray said with a frown. Thankfully, he didn’t push the matter further.
Mrs. Frommer threw a second woolen blanket over her shoulders and ushered her up the staircase, scattering the servants with a look. Having Gray at her side helped clear their path as well. A few stairwells and corridors later, Gray was ushering Brynn into her rooms and thanking the housekeeper for her confidence before closing the door behind him.
Lana stepped from the attached dressing chamber, the day dress she’d selected for Brynn draped over her arm. She took one look at Brynn—at her wan face and the blanket and dusty old cloak around her shoulders—and dropped the mint green muslin onto the bed. “My lady!”
“I’m fine, Lana, truly.”
Brynn’s maid cast a glance at Gray, seeking a second opinion no doubt.
“She is not,” he replied. “Lana, please ring for a bath to be drawn.”
Brynn speared her brother with a glare. She tried not to tremble with cold, but it was a challenge.
“I don’t want a bath. I just want to rest.” As terrifying as the last few hours had been, they were also somehow…gratifying. It was pure madness. The warm, weighty feeling of exhaustion, paired with the events of the morning, were all driving her toward a very long nap.
“The bath, Lana,” Gray insisted. Irritation heated his tone, and though Brynn knew it was his concern for her health, she still saw her maid bristle at the coarse command.
“As you wish, my lord,” she said and, with a curt nod, Gray slammed out of the room. “My lady, I should help you out of your—”
Brynn finally cast off the blanket and cloak. They landed heavily on the floor, and Lana’s expression grew even more alarmed.
“It’s not my blood,” she said quickly and her maid blinked her relief, her parted lips sealing again.
Without questioning whose blood it was, Lana stripped off the shirt and breeches. “Shall I put these to be cleaned and mended, my lady?”
Brynn stared at the clothing with rancor. “Burn them, please. And my apologies for my brother,” she added. “I fear I have angered him beyond reproach this time.”
“There is nothing you could do that would push him to such end, my lady.” Lana crossed the room and tugged on the bellpull. “Master Gray cares for your well-being.”
As it turned out, a hot bath had been exactly what she had needed to get the remnants of the chill out. After having a late breakfast in bed, Brynn decided to remain where she was and rest. She slept for hours, thanks to the medicinal effects of the tea, and woke only when Lana brought her evening meal.
Brynn sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Is Mama worrying about me yet?”
“I told her ladyship you slept poorly last night,” Lana said, setting the tray on the bed beside Brynn. “She blamed the ruby necklace.”
Thank heavens for Lana. And, it would seem, for the rubies.
Brynn rubbed her chest as her maid disappeared into the dressing room. The coughing fit had left a slight soreness across her breastbone. She hadn’t had an episode like that in years, and she’d started to believe the childhood ailment had been firmly behind her.
It was all that masked criminal’s fault! If she hadn’t run into him robbing that carriage, she’d have ridden Zeus and returned home. Instead, she’d scuttled around, chilled to the bone, playing nursemaid. She should have left him to rot.
It would have been a waste, though—even for a lady as inexperienced as she, Brynn knew enough to realize he was an impeccably fine specimen of a man.
Oh for goodness sake, Brynn chided,get ahold of yourself. He’s nothing but a filthy thief who deserves to be given no quarter.
By the time Brynn enumerated all the ways in which the bandit should be punished, she’d worked herself up into a fine froth. Anything to stop herself from thinking about the lean cut of his legs and the sprinkling of dark hair that had covered them, or worse, the provoking, sinful contour of his masculinity showing through his linen smalls. When he had pulled her against him, her bound breasts had been further flattened against his powerful chest. In such close proximity, Brynn couldn’t help remembering his pleasing scent, which set her to reconsidering her theory that he was, in fact, a gentleman.
