Page 9 of The Moonstone Hero
She sighed and shook her head. “I love how you make a person feel welcome.”
After a few grunts and groans, he managed to make himself moderately presentable. “All right. Done. I am safely dressed,and the covers are securely tucked around me. You need not suffer the sight of my pale arse.”
“Ever the gentleman,” she muttered, turning to him with a smile. “Are you sure you are comfortable? Do you need another pillow at your back?”
“No, I’m fine. I only need you to go away.” He brushed fingers through his wet hair so the water droplets did not drip onto his face.
“I have signed up for a full hour every day this week. I meant it when I said none of the other ladies want to be anywhere near you. It isn’t the shouting they mind so much as the brutal sarcasm. You know how to reduce these poor volunteers to tears.”
“You seem impervious.”
“Because I’d met you before and had a glimpse of your good qualities. Yes, you do have some, although you were very much an oaf last year, too.”
“Ah, Ella. Be kind to me or I shall cry.”
“Ha! You? I would be shocked to learn you had ever shed a tear. There is a very hard edge to you, Caden.”
Because this was the mask he always wore, the icy lack of concern he made a point of showing to others.
But he certainly had shed tears.
So many bloody tears.
In truth, he did not know how to make them stop. They remained well hidden, for he only shed them in the wee hours of the night when all was dark and silent. But there seemed to be an endless supply of them, and the agony he felt was ripping his heart to shreds.
Now, the brainless dolts in the House of Lords, along with some witless generals who had never been close to a battlefront, had tossed medals galore at him and wanted to trot him around the country like a prize show horse.
A hero.
He would laugh hard if his ribs weren’t still sore.
“You’ve brought a basket with you,” he said, glancing at the object she had set down by the door before rushing to his side. “What’s in it?”
“Books. A few newspapers. And a few scandal sheets. I thought it would be fun to read the gossip to you. The other material is for you to peruse in your own good time. But let me know if you would rather I read to you. Do your eyes strain easily?”
“Yes, sometimes. They tend to blur on and off throughout the day.”
She frowned. “What does the doctor say about it?”
“That the headaches will diminish and I will recover my sight fully, but it could take months for those bouts of blurriness to subside. The bones, too. They are healing. I was faring quite poorly on the voyage home. There were moments I wasn’t certain I would make it. But I am fairly certain to recover now. I just need time.”
She regarded him thoughtfully. “You are in a good place here. Don’t let them transfer you out. You need to be in Moonstone Landing.”
“Why? Because you are here?”
“No, it has nothing to do with me. It is just this place. It is good for the soul, and yours is in desperate need of restoration.”
He shrugged. “I will consider it. What is that scentyouare wearing? It is making me hungry.”
“A blend of cinnamon and apples. It is one of the Farthingale soaps.” She approached his bedside, leaned close, and turned her head aside so he could breathe her in. “I have an entire collection of scented soaps. Aunt Phoebe enjoys them, too. I bring a boxful for her from London every summer.”
Unaware of the turmoil caused by the light scent of her skin and the fact his lips had softly brushed her neck, she turned away and scooted to the door to fetch her basket. Blessed saints, it was a good thing his covers were securely around him. Was it just Ella or merely abstinence that had him in this roiled state?
“I also brought you some of Mrs. Halsey’s lemon cake,” she continued, unaware of the effect she was having on him. “It is still warm from the oven. I would offer you a drink, but first you must promise not to hurl it at me.”
He arched an eyebrow and grinned. “No more tossing drinks, I promise.”
She nodded. “Give me a moment and I’ll fetch you some cider. Or would you prefer tea?”
