Page 34 of To Heal a Broken Earl
“It is sandalwood and orange, actually,” she said, pleased that he liked the scent.
“Is this some concoction you’re using to wax the furniture in the parlor?” he asked with a curious smile.
“Er…no…” She swallowed, suddenly nervous at revealing her true purpose. “I, um, asked Hastings for a jar of the salve that Dr. Bianchi had compounded for your leg. I thought, perhaps, we could mask the odor. I…well, I hoped—”
“You what?” he interrupted, his tone tinged with irritation, his eyes narrowing.
“I-I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to help. I thought if the salve didn’t have such a noxious odor that you might not be so averse to using it, and it could help with your leg.”
“Are you a physician now?” he said in a sharp tone. “You think a few drops of scented oil will be the magical cure for this mangled leg?”
“No,” she replied, shocked at his words and his sudden flash of anger. “It’s only that after our journey here, your leg seemed to pain you even more, and then it seemed to get even worse since the night in the library when you fell and hurt your leg.”
“I’m not hurt,” he responded tersely. “And I didn’t fall. I was preventingyoufrom falling and injuring yourself when you foolishly climbed up that ladder in the dark.”
She felt her face flush with embarrassment at his reprimand. Even more so because the kiss that followed after he’d indeed broken her fall was emblazoned in her mind. “I was only trying to help,” she whispered brokenly.
Feeling her eyes blur with tears and her bottom lip quiver, she gathered the two vials of essential oils, corked them, and shoved them back into her pocket. “I need to check on Katie. Please excuse me.” Without another word or glance in his direction, she whirled and rushed out the door, unable to stem the flow of tears running down her cheeks, and unwilling to allow him to view her mortification.
~*~
Chapter Fourteen
“Damn and blast!” Michael muttered, running his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.” Frustrated, he watched her walk toward the manor house through the open window in the stable room.
Finn looked up at him and growled, something the normally happy-go-lucky dog never did. And did Finn just shake his head at him?
“I know. I’m an idiot,” he said.
Finn cocked his head and gave an indignant woof.
“I deserve thatandthe pain I’m experiencing,” Michael said as he bent to rub his leg. Working on rebuilding the crumbled parts of the wall over the past two days had only compounded the twisting pain in his thigh. “It seems even my bloody leg agrees.”
Finn nudged the middle jar with his nose and barked.
“You want me to smell it?” he said, picking up the jar. Michael smiled as he inhaled the pleasant aroma of sandalwood with subtle hints of orange. Not overpowering at all. “My God, she did it.” She had fixed the salve, making the scent pleasing. It smelled fresh, not foul. “She did this for me,” he said with wonder. He wouldn’t have a problem using the salve now, but he had no idea how to replicate it once he ran out. Knowing Emma, she’d probably written it down. He’d have to ask her for the recipe.
After he apologized.
Why had he reacted the way he did? He’d humiliated her. He’d hurt her. And all she was trying to do was help him.She did all of this for me, and I practically bit her head off.
He’d seen the tears, the quivering lip, the hurt in her eyes just before she looked away and ran out of the stable.
I’m such a fool.
He’d let his pride take over, and now he’d hurt Emma…
Since his return to Society, he’d feigned indifference when it came to his injury and his very visible limp. He’d acted as though he were unaffected because that was what men did. Society tended to look down on war veterans who’d returned from battle with injuries, whether they were visible or invisible. A friend of his, a fellow officer, and a second son to a duke, had come home minus an arm and blind in one eye. His young wife had screamed and fainted when she saw him. Since that day, they’d resided in separate homes. He stayed at his country estate. She stayed in London.
Despite Michael’s stoic strength and declaration that he’d rather not attendtonfunctions because of the frivolous nature of debutantes and their overbearing, matchmaking mamas—especially now that he was an earl—he’d been expected to attend balls, but he doubted anyone would appreciate his dragging his leg across the dance floor. Before he had been captured and tortured, he had been a very capable dancer. Some women had even gushed about his ability to practically glide across the dance floor. But no more. His pronounced limp ensured he would be the least appealing partner for anytonevent. Realizing this, he’d avoided Society. It was part of the reason he’d left London. If he weren’t there, no one would invite him.
Deep down he didn’t think he would ever meet a woman who wouldn’t be shocked or, worse, feel revulsion over his twisted and scarred leg. For that reason, he had decided never to marry. He couldn’t. No woman would want a man with a mangled leg that would require attention when the pain became unbearable.
And then he’d met Emma.
His thoughts turned to that memorable morning in the attic. Together, they had sifted through every trunk and lookedat every piece of furniture, searching for the perfect items that would help them restore the neglected beauty of the manor house. They’d talked excitedly about the memorabilia and trinkets they found, guessing what they might have meant to those original occupants. Her enthusiasm had been infectious and seemingly driven by a desire to please him. He recalled the wedding veil she’d found and how his thoughts had taken flight, imagining her wearing that veil as she walked down the aisle toward him.
Last night, he’d dreamed he was twirling Emma around a gleaming ballroom floor, where crystal chandeliers sparkled like stars against a beautiful moonlit sky. He’d pictured her in an exquisite pink gown, the very one he had seen her wearing earlier that afternoon. Her brilliant smile had lit up the room, and her gorgeous violet eyes had gazed adoringly up at him, glowing with wonderment and joy, as if he were the only man in the world. He closed his eyes once more, and he could almost feel her presence, her intoxicating, sweet jasmine scent enveloping his senses like a warm embrace, stirring desires and emotions from deep within his heart—emotions unlike anything he had ever felt.
