Page 46 of The Major's Mistake
Miranda’s face betrayed her skepticism. But instead of pursuing the matter, she turned her attention back to her groom.“Have you gone entirely mad, Angus?” she demanded. “Surely you are aware you could be on a shipped off to the Antipodes for striking?—”
“I should hope you would not think me so lacking in honor that I would strike a man who wasn’t free to strike back,” said Julian in a tight voice. “Of course he had my word there would be no such consequences.”
“I would not think you were so lacking in sense—or decorum—than to be found scrabbling in the dirt with my groom?—”
“That’s not entirely fair, milady. I provoked him,” piped up Angus in defense of the marquess.
Miranda looked nonplussed at the show of unexpected support from that quarter. “Men,” she muttered under her breath, causing each of them to look even more abashed. Her brow furrowed in exasperation as she continued to regard the two of them in deafening silence. But when finally she spoke again, her tone had softened considerably. “That eye needs some attention,” she said, bending to have a closer look at her groom’s face.
“Oh, it’s really naught ta worry on, milady,” he mumbled. “I’ve weathered far worse scrapes.”
“I shall decide on that,” she answered in a voice that brooked no argument. “Neither of you are to stir. Jem?—”
The young groom jumped.
“You will come with me. I shall return shortly.”
She marched off, leaving the two of them alone with their thoughts. The marquess slumped forward, threading his fingers through his disheveled locks, while Angus threw himself back on his cot and contemplated the low beams above his head.
“I trust you will not be made to suffer in way for this,” murmured Julian after a bit.
The groom pulled a face. “Nay. Lady Miranda is much too kind to mete out any punishment. She doesn’t have to—it’s bad enough to know I’ve disappointed her.”
The marquess made a sound in his throat, then lapsed into a moody silence.
Angus continued staring at the ceiling. “And I’m sorry if I’ve caused ye trouble with the lady. But ye see, none of us here takes kindly to anyone who might … hurt her.”
Julian’s features hardened. “I have no intention of doing any such thing.”
“No?” There was a note of challenge in the reply. “Then what exactly are your intentions?”
The words struck him like another blow to the midriff.What, indeed?Good Lord, his emotions were in such a state of confusion that he couldn’t possibly begin to fathom his feelings, much less explain them to a stranger. His jaw tightened and his gaze dropped to the floor, as if the answer could be found anywhere but within himself.
Miranda soon returned carrying a large basket filled with assorted medical supplies, Jem trailing in her wake bearing a steaming pot of hot water. She knelt beside Angus, extracted a small compress from her things and pressed it over his swelling eye. Brushing aside his feeble protests, she took up a soft cloth and, after dipping it in the hot water, began to clean the other cuts and bruises.
“You must hold this in place for a bit longer,” she said, placing his fingers up to the compress. After applying several dabs of salve to the broken skin, she gathered up her basket and moved on to the marquess.
“Miranda—” Julian began in a near whisper.
His words died in his throat as her thumb touched the corner of his mouth. “Your lip is cut,” she said softly. With a clean cloth, she gently wiped away the dried blood and caked dirt. Herfingers touched the mottling on his cheek, lingering there for just an instant, then brushed back the tumbled locks from his forehead. “And you’ve a nasty scrape here. And here.”
He let his eyes fall closed as she tended to his injuries. The closeness of her face, the subtle scent of lilac mingling with the sharp herbal whiff of her medicinals, caused him to suck in his breath.
“I shall have a look at those ribs now.”
His eyes flew open. “No! I?—”
Her fingers were already working at the buttons of his shirt.
“That is, I would rather you didn’t.”
She paused for a fraction. “I am afraid I must, sir. If they are not properly wrapped, they might cause serious damage—” The shirt front fell open and her eyes dropped to his bare chest.
An involuntary cry escaped her lips. “Oh, Jul—sir!” she whispered.
“Yes, I know.” He tried to pull away. “Hardly a pretty sight.”
Miranda looked away quickly to compose her features, but not before Angus caught the look of anguish on her face. In an instant, however, she recovered and managed to school her emotions enough to speak in a normal voice.
