Cinders and Ashes (4 page)

“
There now, everything will be alright.” The soft, melodic
voice was accompanied by gentle hands that tenderly smoothed the
puckered flesh of his brow. It took every ounce of energy he had to
open his heavy eyelids, and look for the source of the
comfort.

Stunned,
he gazed at the most surprisingly beautiful face he had ever seen
in his life. Long, curly auburn tresses were haphazardly tied back,
leaving loose strands to curl lovingly on smooth alabaster cheeks.
His eyes met and held her mossy green gaze, and he felt something
deep within his chest break free and begin to warm. Instinctively,
he was drawn towards this woman of such tenderness, and he knew
nothing in his life would ever be quite the same.

“
Hello,” Amelia whispered softly. Her heart thumped heavily in
her chest as she looked into his sleepy gaze. His eyes were the
most alluring dark blue and framed with wonderfully thick, dark
lashes. She knew she should be backing away, but the blatant
masculinity staring back at her held her mesmerised.

“
Who are you?” His husky question sent ripples of awareness
down her spine.

Amelia
found herself fighting the shocking urge to lay her head down next
to his, and tell him everything. Blanking out that particular
wayward thought, she shook her head slightly.

“
My name is Amelia,” she replied, ingrained politeness
overriding her wariness. “What’s yours?” She found herself unable
to break the invisible hold he had on her.

“
Sebastian.” His gruff reply was instantaneous, leaving Amelia
in no doubt as to his honesty. His gaze was steady as it held hers
unrelentingly.

“
Sebastian what?” She knew she should have asked for his
title, but something within her didn’t wish to know. She suddenly
didn’t want him to confirm he was one of
them
. The
Ton
.

Despite
lying prostrate and weakened upon her bed, he was so intrinsically
masculine that he made her feel warm and protected. She watched
carefully as a frown marred his brow, and she wasn’t sure if she
was sad or relieved when his eyes broke away from hers.

Turning
his gaze towards the ceiling, he considered his answer.

“
Do you know? I am not sure.” His frown deepened. “Where am
I?”

Sebastian tried to rise from the bed and look around the room
only to groan aloud when pain lanced his side. “My side,” Sebastian
gasped, hating the invalidity of his body.

“
I think you have broken some bones. You must lie still.”
Amelia tugged the sheet up to his armpits, covering the tempting
expanse of well-muscled chest before moving away from the
bed.

She was
glad to be able to put some distance between them, and took a few
moments to bustle in front of the hearth while she gathered her
scattered wits about her.

Despite
being battered and bruised, he had far too much of an impact on her
than she liked. He was gentry, and that fact alone should be enough
to ensure any fluttering of attraction she felt towards him came to
nothing. Nevertheless, the raw masculinity of the man lying in her
bed was impossible to ignore.

Undoubtedly a rake
, Amelia thought
to herself. The
Ton
was littered with them, and they were all the same. Good
looking, sophisticated, charming and with far too much money than
was wise or fair. They had little to do in a day other than eat,
drink and bed women, leaving the poor to work from dawn to dusk
running their estates for them in exchange for a
pittance.

Somewhat
mollified that the initial fluttering of attraction she had felt
for him had been banished to the far corners of her innermost
thoughts, Amelia carefully spooned a bowl of broth and returned to
the bed. Ideally, now he was awake she should hand him his clothes
and order him out of her cottage. Despite the weather.

Although
she had kept herself to herself while she had lived on the
outskirts of Glendowie, people in the village knew her or knew of
her. Her reputation could be tarnished as easily as any
aristocratic young lady’s, simply by having him in her cottage.
Injured or not. She couldn’t afford for the village, or Sir Hubert,
to cast her out. Her very survival depended upon their respect and
belief in her integrity.

Turning
back towards the bed, she was surprised to find him still awake and
watching her carefully.

“
You didn’t answer me,” Sebastian murmured, watching the
delicate curve of her feminine brow arch in silent question.
Despite the sparseness of the room, there was something about her
that spoke of quality. “Where am I?”

“
You are in a small village of Glendowie, on the Scottish
borders,” Amelia replied, helping him sit upright enough to plump
the pillow behind him.

Silence
settled between them as she sat tentatively on the edge of the bed
and began to spoon the fragrant broth into his mouth. He managed to
consume half of the bowl before he motioned he was full with a weak
wave of his hand, and a murmur of thanks. He greedily drank the cup
of water offered to him and eased back into the pillows with a
sigh.

Amelia
watched him with a pang of longing. He looked so comfortable lying
on her small mound of pillows. She longed to be able to lie down
and go to sleep herself, but given he occupied the only bed she
owned; it was the cold, hard floor for her. Shaking her head in
disgust, she silently cursed the aristocracy and returned to the
hearth.

“
Are you married?” She turned at the raspy rumble and
considered her answer. Should she reveal the truth, and leave
herself vulnerable to him? After all, she still had to learn who he
was and what had happened to him. If he was one of the
Ton
, with his looks he
was undoubtedly a rogue. She certainly didn’t want him considering
her to be vulnerable prey, there to service his every desire before
he left for home. But if she said she was married, she couldn’t
produce a husband to come home. The longer he was in her cottage,
the more evident it would be that there was no man in
residence.

She
found herself unable to lie to him. “Can you remember how you got
here?” Amelia asked, hoping he would accept her change of
subject.

Sebastian had already surmised she was unwed. Although
sparsely furnished, the single room cottage had a touch of
femininity about it. Wild flowers sat in a small pot upon the
well-scrubbed, but rickety wooden table standing in solitary
splendour in front of the only fireplace in the room. The retiring
screen in the corner, which undoubtedly hid the chamber pot, was
draped in female paraphernalia. There were no boots, cloaks, or
signs of masculine presence. Indeed, if it weren’t for the
clothing, there would be very little sign of Amelia living
there.

Bringing
his attention back to her question, he generously ignored the fact
she had carefully skirted around his question. “I can remember bits
and bobs, but nothing that makes any sense. It was raining and
dark, and I was in a carriage but apart from that-.” He shook his
head and winced as the throbbing in his temples
increased.

“
You need to rest. I am sure your memory will return in good
time.” Amelia settled down in the old chair she had tugged before
the fire, and dragged a large basket of mending toward her. With
the adventures of the previous night, she had not had the time to
do the mending for the main house.

Although
the pay was little, the pennies were a boon to her meagre finances.
She knew Sir Hubert paid her as much as he could afford, but she
was aware her wages fell far below those of other housekeepers. Yet
she liked Hubert. He had been kind and considerate; giving her a
chance when nobody else could. She was grateful he had given her a
job at all. With no references, he could have easily turned her out
without bothering to speak to her. Instead, he had accepted her
honest explanation of her circumstance, and hired her on the
spot.

Amelia
traded part of the wages she knew he couldn’t afford to pay her,
for rental of the cottage. She had stayed in the housekeeper’s
quarters of his small manor house briefly while she made the small
cottage habitable. She didn’t mind its dilapidated state. She
gained a home of her own, and a small measure of pride in the
knowledge that despite the odds being stacked against her, she was
able to look after herself.

“
Amelia?”

Amelia
snapped out of her silent reverie, and glanced at her house
guest.

“
I’m sorry, did you say something?” Amelia was half out of her
seat when she was waved back down.

“
It’s just that I have, erm, pressing needs.” Sebastian
paused, wondering if she would understand.

Amelia
frowned in consternation. Pressing needs? Oh! She couldn’t prevent
the blush that stole through her cheeks when his meaning dawned on
her. With an uncomfortable cough, she lunged out of her chair and
hurried behind the retiring screen, emerging moments later with a
thankfully empty pot. Placing it down beside the bed, she frowned
in consternation at the next problem.

“
Er-.” She eyed the empty receptacle warily, her cheeks fiery
red.

“
I can manage by myself, thank you.” Sebastian’s crisp
declaration brooked no argument.

“
Will you be alright to sit up by yourself?” She waved her
hand vaguely towards his ribs, watching his wince as he tried to
sit. Clearly he was in considerable pain.

“
Hold the sheet,” she ordered, as she moved forward to help.
As soon as her hands touched his warm flesh, her treacherous body
began to respond. It took every ounce of self preservation she had
to ignore the delicious lemony scent that seemed to ooze from him.
She stared blankly at the wall and tried to ignore the urge to turn
her head and kiss his bristly cheek.

Well really!
She silently chastised
herself, frowning when she felt his ribs shake slightly.

She
stood up and looked down at him. Immediately her gaze was caught
and held by his smiling blue eyes. She knew he was aware of her
discomfort and was grateful when he simply smiled at her in
sympathetic amusement.

Sebastian wished his brain was working well enough to offer
some smooth repartee, and wisely kept his mouth shut. Instead he
nodded his thanks with a soft smile as he assumed a seated position
directly above the chamber pot.

“
I’ve got to get some more wood in. I’ll be back soon.” She
turned away quickly, missing the dark scowl that immediately fell
over Sebastian’s face at her announcement.

Hurrying
to the door, she snatched her cloak from the table on the way,
wincing as she tugged the damp material around her. Within moments,
she was standing outside in the pouring rain again, waiting for her
heart to slow to its normal pace.

You’re a fool Amelia, he isn’t for you
, she chastised herself, watching the steady sheets of rain
splash onto the muddy puddles lying in the middle of the cart
track. How she was to find dry wood now, heaven only knew, but at
least it would give her something to do. She heaved a sigh, and
headed into the woods.

Sebastian watched the door close behind her and muttered a
dark curse. She shouldn’t be heading outside in weather like this
for any reason. He should have gone, and would have if it wasn’t
for the cursed injuries he now carried.

Where
had they come from? What was he doing here? Amelia hadn’t told him
where she had found him, and when, and he hadn’t thought to ask.
How long had he been asleep?

He could
feel exhaustion claiming him and, having seen to his most pressing
need, carefully eased himself back down onto the bed with a deep
sigh.

“
Amelia,” he murmured softly, considering the intriguing
bundle of femininity who had been his saviour. She had undoubtedly
saved his life, but who was she?

As sleep drew him down, his mind latched onto the one nagging
question that wouldn’t go away. Whoever Amelia was, she was living
in bleak deprivation with no protector, and no guardian. Although
her clothing was rough and work-worn, she glided like a lady, spoke
in cultured tones rather than local dialect, and lived in desolate
exile rather than a country house somewhere. He was almost certain
she was gentry of some sort, if not
Ton
. So, why was she there? Who was
she?

As the questions swirled around him, Sebastian made a promise
to himself that whatever happened, before he left the tiny,
ramshackle hovel Amelia called home, he would learn
all
of her
secrets.

Amelia
had been so preoccupied with the presence of the man in her bed
that she had forgotten to feed herself. A fact her empty stomach
reminded her of frequently, as she trudged through the woods
looking for the driest sticks she could find. The steady pile of
timber she had collected would be enough to get them through the
next few days if they were lucky.

The
woods were nearly impossible to get through. During the storm, the
relentless winds had torn down several large branches that now
blocked the path she usually used to get to Sir Hubert’s house.
Luckily, that meant there was fresh wood now available if she
snapped off the smaller branches she could carry.