Page 3 of The Moonstone Major
He strode to a quiet corner of the shop, mumbled an apology to Mrs. Halsey for tracking mud into her pristine tearoom, and then eased Chloe onto one of the ornate wrought-iron chairs. “Tell me if it hurts when I press down.”
He splayed his hands along her sides to explore lightly.
She stared into his magnificent eyes, feeling nothing but heaven in the gentleness of his touch. They were seated beside one of the shop’s large windows, and sunlight streamed through it to surround Major Brennan in a halo of light. Not that any female in Moonstone Landing needed a reminder he resembled Apollo, the Greek god of the sun. “Oh, yes. Right there. I’m sure it is nothing but an insignificant bruise that will disappear in a day. Ow!”
He turned to the crowd that had followed him in. “Has anyone gone for the doctor?”
One of the locals stepped forward, a young man Chloe recognized from the local bank. “He’s out at the Harbison farm, Major Brennan. I doubt he’ll be back for another hour or two.”
“Blast,” Fionn muttered. “I see. Thank you, Mr. Garfield.”
He now turned to Chloe. “Do you feel up to leaving for home?”
She cast him a wry smile. “My ribs are bruised and I think my hip might be, too. I feel my ankle swelling. But yes, I can make it home on my own.”
“On your own? Don’t be daft. I’ll escort you. Your ankle is now swelling. That was my fault. I think I hit it with my knee as I was trying to avoid falling atop you.”
“It is nothing,” she assured him, wiping a little mud off her gown and realizing his uniform had to be soaked through and stained as well. “Nor are you to blame for our damaged clothes. I’ll have yours repaired and cleaned, since all of this is my fault.”
The major shook his head. “Nonsense. If anyone is to pay, it is the owner of the phaeton.” His eyes glittered and he smiled again. “I wonder if he’s ended up in the harbor by now. A good dunking would serve him right.”
Chloe laughed and then winced again.
“You are more seriously hurt than you have let on,” he muttered, giving her cheek a light caress.
Too bad he never meant the gesture to be romantic.
Other men found her pretty and exceedingly charming. Why couldn’t he?
She suddenly recalled her reason for coming into town. “Oh, my packages!”
She pointed to the center of the high street, where they now lay strewn about and squashed beyond repair. The boxes of cakes had gone flying the moment Major Brennan grabbed her to knock her out of the way.
She supposed it was better to have them, and not herself, crushed beneath the phaeton wheels. That could have been her in the street, lying there lifeless and with her bones ground to dust.
It was too awful to contemplate.
He followed her gaze to the center of the street. “Those are easily replaced. You are not.”
So could her gown be replaced, she decided as mud continued to ooze through the fabric into her undergarments.
“Don’t fret, Lady Chloe,” said the town constable, Malcolm Angel, striding through the crowd to reach their side. “We’ll clean up that mess, but your well-being is more important.” He cast a glance at the major.
“I’ll stay with Lady Chloe,” the major assured him. “Do whatever you must. There isn’t much we can tell you other than the phaeton was careening toward her.”
“Lord save us from those London nobs and their fancy carriages,” Constable Angel muttered. He motioned to several bystanders to follow him back onto the street and help him gather up the damaged packages to hold as evidence.
“Let me look at your ankle in the meanwhile,” Major Brennan said, kneeling beside her and carefully removing her walking boot.
Heavens be praised.
More touching?
Why did she not think of almost getting killed by a runaway team of horses before? She had dreamed of this moment… Well, not quite like this. Trampling and death were not what she had envisioned.
But why quibble about how or why his big, rough hands were all over her?
Her heart thumped like a war drum as he ran them from thigh to ankle, his touch slow and methodical. Severaleepsescaped her lips, and it had nothing to do with pain.
