A Perfect Hero (10 page)

“Everything is spinning.”

“Put your head on the table.” Gently she pushed his head down.

Long moments passed before he finally raised his head. She was relieved to note some of the color had seeped back into his face. “Christ,” he muttered.

“How do you feel?”

“Weak as a babe,” he admitted.

“You lost a goodly amount of blood,” Julianna said quietly. “It may take some time before you feel quite like yourself again.”

He sighed. “Well,” he murmured dryly, “it ap
pears the tables have been turned. I am wholly in your hands then. Dare I trust you?”

Julianna couldn’t withhold the smile that was creeping across her lips. “You can indeed,” she said briskly. “Now back to bed with you, si—”

She broke off when his brows shot high, and he began shaking his head in reproof.

She slipped an arm through his. “Back to bed with you, Dane.”

This time she received no argument in return.

It was later that she found herself reflecting . . . The tables had been turned indeed. The Magpie was totally in her hands. It was a strange thought to consider. Well, not completely in her hands, she decided. Weakness or not, there was an aura of leashed strength about him that nothing or no one could hide. His hard frame dominated most of thebed. Shewas notfooledbythe wayhelay still, quietly dozing. The sight of his naked chest was disconcerting, and she couldn’t prevent her eyes from straying to it again and again through
out the day. More than once she felt her face grow hot, and she had to divert her attention elsewhere.

In rummaging through the cupboard, she’d found some dried beef. He would never regain his strength if he didn’t eat, she reasoned. But she didn’t think it would be wise for him to eat too heavily.

Several black iron kettles of varying sizes hung near the fireplace. Reaching up, she plucked the smallest from its berth. Filling it with fresh water from the well, she placed it on a hook suspended over the fire, threw in a handful of beef and a measure of salt. Dusting off her hands, she stepped back to wait. After feeding Percival,
carrying in more wood and filling a bucket with water, she returned to the fire. Raising the lid, she sniffed and peered warily within. The liquid was dark and murky; it didn’t look particularly palat
able. Oh, what she wouldn’t have given for a pas
try and pot of chocolate!

Nighttime shadows crept into the cabin. She lit several candles and walked back to the pot. It was then that Dane awoke. “What is that?” he asked.

“Broth. I thought it would be good for you. Would you like some?”

He nodded.

Julianna carefully ladled it into a wooden bowl and carried it to the bed. Dane was pushing him
self to a sitting position, his back against the wall. As he did, icy-hot needles shot through his chest, all the way down his left arm. The movement ar
rested, he cradled his arm with his good hand.

“God rot it—” he gave an explosive curse “—I don’t think I can hold the damned bowl!”

“It’s all right.” She hastened forward. “I can feed you, if you like—”

He was scowling, his mouth tight. “It is not all right! I won’t have you feeding me like a child!”

Julianna froze. She was caught squarely be
tween the desire to dump the broth over his head and an elusive hurt. And it was that which Dane saw.

Yet before he could say a word, she said care
fully, “Perhaps tomorrow you’ll feel well enough to sit at the table. For now, I have an idea.”

Seconds later, she stepped to the bedside, handing him a cup with the hot broth.

Wordlessly he accepted it. Unthinkingly he took a sip. His eyes watered. He choked back a cough. God above, had she emptied the entire tin of salt in the kettle? Over the rim of the cup, her features flashed before him, the brilliance of her eyes wide and wary, yet he read in them an eager
ness to please.

And here he was, he thought grimly, acting the beast.

Wretched though it was, he drained the broth, every last drop.

He set the cup aside and leaned back. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. It’s not your fault.”

Oh, but it was. And they both knew it. Ju
lianna battled a rush of stupid, foolish tears. She would have stepped back lest he see, but he caught her fingers.

She gave a tiny shake of her head. “I . . . It’s all right,” she said awkwardly.

He frowned suddenly. His gaze roved over her face. “You look tired,” he observed.

“I’m fine.” She flashed a smile. “Truly.”

But Dane saw beneath the façade. “You’re ex
hausted, aren’t you?”

“Now why would you say such a thing!”

So. The lady was stubborn and persistent. He tried another tack.

“When was the last time you slept?”

“I cannot remember.”

He cocked a brow. “
Have
you slept?”

“A little,” she lied.

“You haven’t,” he pronounced flatly.

“I did!” she insisted. “I slept there!” She pointed to the chair next to her.

His eyes narrowed. He made a disapproving sound low in his throat.

“Well, you won’t be sleeping there tonight.”

She yanked her hand away and propped them on her hips. “You’re certainly in no condition to stop me,” she pointed out.

“No?” Dane allowed a smile to curl his lips, nodding at the empty cup. “Your sustenance has given me renewed strength.”

She blinked. She wasn’t looking quite so sure of herself.

Holding her gaze, he reached for the coverlet, his intention clear.

“Don’t you dare!” It was an ardent, vehement protest.

Dane paused, raising a brow in silent query.

“Oh, bother!” she cried.

Dane sighed. “Need I remind you I am hardly in any condition to accost you? And what
would people think of me if they knew I let a woman sit in a chair all night while I occupied the bed?”

Her eyes met his rather unwillingly, he de
cided. But she was softening; he sensed it.

“They would, no doubt, say you are a rogue, which you are.”

He lifted a corner of the blanket. “You won’t do either of us any good without rest.”

“It would be highly improper for me to sleep with you in that bed.”

He scowled. “Lady,” he growled, “you already have.”

“It is most ungentlemanly of you to remind me of that.” It was true. But she hadn’t had a choice then, with him the Magpie and she his captive. But now—now, she did.

She was weakening. This was madness, she told herself. She did not know this man. What she did know of his character was thoroughly reprehensible!

Her fingers were imprisoned within his once more. She felt him tugging, inexorably pulling her toward him.

“Come,” he invited. “Come lie with me, kit
ten.”

Her eyes widened. “If you weren’t hurt,” she stated, “I do believe I’d slap you.”

Dane made a sound that was part laugh, part
groan as she slid in beside him. A man would have to be dead not to be aware of this woman’s loveliness. “Ah, kitten! If I wasn’t hurt, I do be
lieve I’d deserve it.”

ulianna was up when Dane woke the next morning. She was just pinning her hair be
fore the small oval mirror on the wall next to the door. She turned when she saw that he was awake.

“Good morning,” she murmured, with a tenta
tive smile.

“Good morning,” he returned.

A shaft of hungry desire shot through him as he watched her approach. She’d changed into a simple gown of white muslin. Dane’s eyes fol
lowed the delicate blue lace that edged the rounded bodice. Beneath the cloth her breasts swelled round and high, her skin milky white and smooth. He wanted to touch it—touch
her
, to see if she was as soft as she looked. And when she sat
and bent slightly to peer at his shoulder, it was all he could do to tear his gaze from the cleft be
tween. Even the sharp knifelike pain that sizzled through him as he flexed his shoulder couldn’t banish the sharp, sudden stab of longing that shot through him. The scent of roses drifted to his nostrils. God, but she was fresh and sweet, and he was suddenly achingly aware of his own disheveled appearance.

Little did he realize that while he was indulging in his perusal, Julianna was taking stock of him as well. In all her days, she didn’t know when she’d encountered such stark, bold masculinity. It was most vexing, she decided irritably. Why the devil did he affect her so?

She sat, trying to keep her gaze trained on the bandage—impossible! With his throat and chest bare, he seemed bigger than ever. The sheer size of the man was overwhelming. His forearms were long and corded with muscle, covered with silky-looking dark hair. Even his wrists were big, his fingers lean and strong-looking. When hers brushed his hair-roughened flesh, her stomach dropped like a brick.

The muscles in her belly contracted. A tingle of some strange, unnamed emotion curled her in
sides. Almost desperately, she sought to quiet her leaping pulse. There should have been layers and layers of clothing between them. Shirt, vest,
jacket, cravat. She wasn’t used to it. She wasn’t used to touching a man, period. Instead, there was nothing between them, nothing but a rather daunting expanse of brazenly male skin
.. . .

She strove for a breezy, even tone. “Let’s have a look at this, shall we?”

“Must we?” He was grim, wincing as she be
gan to unwind the bandage from around his shoulder.

She inhaled sharply when at last it was re
vealed. Her stomach lurched at the sight of the raised, swollen flesh, bracketed by her stitches.

“That bad, eh?”

Julianna examined it more closely. It was raw and jagged and crusted with blood. “Actually, no,” she ventured cautiously. “It’s bruised and red, but I think that’s to be expected. Frankly, it looks better than I thought it would.”

She had already placed a basin of hot water and a stack of clean cloths on the table. Dane steeled himself when she began to clean it, but she was very gentle. He watched her fingers as she worked. They were slender and small, like the rest of her. He vaguely recalled her hands on his body. Smoothing his brow, a voice speaking in dulcet, soothing tones. But her tongue was tart—an intriguing contradiction, he mused!

He surveyed her as she very efficiently folded a
clean pad into a square. “You’re very capable.

Have you worked in a hospital?”

Julianna blinked. “Heavens, no.”

“Are you laughing?” he demanded.

“A little.”

“Why?”

“Well, to be sure, the only experience I have is with animals.”

Even when she was very young, she was always taking in some poor creature or other—an or
phaned rabbit, a dog whose leg had been caught in some kind of trap... Oh, how she’d wanted to keep him once he was well! She’d begged and begged.

Papa had refused.

From her brother Justin she’d inherited a hint of stubborn defiance, for she had nursed the ani
mal back to health without her father’s knowl
edge, keeping him hidden in the boathouse away from sight. Sebastian and Justin had helped as well, sneaking her juicy tidbits of food for the mongrel. And when he was well, Prudence from the village near Thurston Hall had given him a home and shelter.

Papa would have been furious if he’d known. Not that any of them had cared, however . . .

“What kind of animals?” he asked.

Julianna shrugged. “Several rabbits. A bird with a broken wing once.” She couldn’t quite hide the tiny little smile that flirted at the corners
of her mouth. “But I daresay, you are the most beastly of all.”

“Thank you. I’m glad I know what you really think of me.”

“You weren’t complaining a few days ago,” she reminded him.

“True.” He watched as she held the square, easing his arm up as she began to wrap another strip around it to hold it in place. “But it would appear someone has taught you well.”

Julianna was intent on her task, her tone rather absentminded. “Actually, Sebastian tended my bumps and bruises when I was young.”

“You call your father by his given name?”

“No, of course not. Sebastian is my brother.”

Dane gave her an odd look. “Your brother tended your scrapes?”

“You would have to know my brother. He’s a very protective sort.”

“Where was your mother?”

Her smile slowly faded. It was a logical ques
tion, she supposed. “I don’t even remember my mother.”

“I’m sorry.” He paused. “She died when you were young?”

“Yes. She—she ran off with another man.” The admission came out all in a rush. “Across the Channel. The two of them were killed.”

He was staring at her. “Good God.”

“Yes, it was all quite disgraceful.”

“What about your father?”

“He died a number of years ago, too.” Her fin
gers plucked at her gown. Her laugh was a little forced as she raised her head. “I don’t know why I told you that. It’s rare that I even think of it.”

Dane didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then he asked, “How old are you, Julianna?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That, sir, is none of your affair.”

“Oh, come,” he said brashly. “How old are you?”

She glared at him, the soft line of her lips com
pressed into a tight seam.

“Very well then. I shall hazard a guess. Are you eight-and-twenty?”

“I am not!” she said through her teeth.

He’d offended her. Younger then. Dane hastily revised his guess.

“Seven-and-twenty?”

She neither denied nor confirmed it. Ah, so he was right. She was seven-and-twenty.

“Why aren’t you wed?”

“That’s not a question one should ask a lady!”

He persisted. “Are you a bluestocking?”

Julianna could feel her face growing hot. “Must you persist in insulting me?”

“I mean no insult. Someone should have mar
ried a beauty like you long ago. You should have had at least three babes at your breast already.”

Babes
. She was reminded of her brothers’ little
ones—Sebastian’s twins, Geoffrey and Sophie, Justin’s new daughter Lizzie. She loved them dearly, but they weren’t
hers
. And all at once she felt the loss keenly.

And his gibe hurt. Julianna couldn’t help it. She’d thought herself well beyond it, but it did.

Her mind veered straight to Thomas. A rend
ing ache tore through her, but she was deter
mined not to show it.
If only
, she thought.
If only
. Deep in her soul, she knew Thomas was not the man for her—would never have been the man for her—but there were times that she longed for what might have been...

“You ask questions you have no business ask
ing,” she told him bluntly.

“Perhaps. But what if I said I am a man who values truth and honesty?”

“You? An outlaw?” She took a deep breath. “Tell me then. Why aren’t
you
wed? Or are you?”

“I am not.”

She gave him a withering stare. “Perhaps no one would have you.”

“That may be true. But I have never asked any
one to be my wife.”

“I cannot imagine that anyone would say yes,” she shot back. “Being a highwayman can hardly be a stable livelihood.”

Little wonder that she scoffed. He deserved that, he realized. He had been teasing, but he was also curious. Yet he sensed her defensiveness, an
elusive hurt, but he would not press. Since the lovely Julianna was clearly sensitive about her age and her marital state, and since it seemed the con
versation was taking a turn neither of them were prepared to discuss, Dane decided a change of subject was in order.

He ran a hand over his raspy chin. “Have you ever shaved a man?”

Her stunned expression was all the answer he needed. But he discovered she was up to any chal
lenge he presented.

Her eyes took on a gleam. “You would trust me with a razor at your throat?”

The question took him aback. Dane couldn’t help it. His gaze slid up and down her form. All of a sudden he wasn’t so sure . . .

“You may not be an honest man,” she said sweetly, “but it seems you are a brave one.”

As it happened, she held the mirror while he scraped the stubble from his face and neck. Wip
ing the last of the soap from his chin, he glanced at her.

“Is that better?”

She nodded her approval. “A vast improve
ment,” she pronounced. She replaced his shaving supplies in the cupboard and turned back, purs
ing her lips. “I suppose you’re hungry.”

“I am. But I don’t want any of that damned broth.”

Her mouth opened, then closed with a snap. She was clearly affronted. “I’ll have you know I went to a great deal of trouble to fix that broth.”

“And I appreciate your efforts. Truly. But I’m ravenous, kitten.”

“Yes, I imagine you are.” Her ire faded. She looked suddenly worried. “But I ate the last of the bread yesterday. And...”

She was chewing on her lip. “What?” he prompted.

She met his gaze reluctantly. “I think it only fair to tell you I’ve never cooked a meal in my life,” she confided in a small voice.

“Really?” He feigned great shock. “Why, I should never have guessed.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you making light of me?”

“Not in the slightest. I have every faith in you. Now, if you will only listen, I have a suggestion. Outside on the north corner of the cottage, there is a small storeroom . . .”

An hour later the cottage was filled with the aroma of meat and vegetables. Julianna stirred the stew, humming a little as she crushed some herbs in her fingers and sprinkled them over the top.

But when she reached for the salt, Dane reared up. “Easy on the salt, kitten!” he called.

By the time night draped its shadow over the for
est, Julianna was nearly dropping with exhaus
tion. She swiped at the hair falling into her eyes. What would Sebastian and Justin think if they could see her now? she wondered, hauling water and wood. She was dirty, disheveled, and they would surely never believe their eyes!