Rakes Vow

His tone-clipped and angry-made her do just that. Then she felt his hands close about her sore ankle. His fingers searched, probed gently, then, very carefully, he moved her foot about. 'No sharp pain?'

Patience shook her head. His fingers firmed, gently massaging; swallowing a sigh, she closed her eyes. His touch felt so good. The heat of his hands reduced the ache; when he finally released her ankle, it felt much better.

His hands slid upward, following the swell of her calf to her knee.

Patience kept her eyes shut, and tried not to think about how sheer her evening stockings were. Luckily, she wore her garters high, so when his hands closed about her knee, he wasn't touching bare skin.

He might as well have been.

Every nerve in her legs came alive, focused on his touch. He probed, and pain flashed; Patience jerked-but welcomed the distraction. He was very careful after that. Twice more, she hissed in pain as he tested the joint. Eventually, his hands left her.

Patience opened her eyes and quickly flicked down her skirts. She could feel her blush heating her cheeks. Luckily, in the poor light, she doubted he could see it.

Vane stood and looked down at her. 'Wrenched knee, slightly sprained ankle.'

Patience shot him a glance. 'You're an expert?'

'Of a sort.' With that, he picked her up.

Patience clung to his shoulders. 'If you would give me your arm, I'm sure I could manage.'

'Really?' came the less than encouraging reply. He looked down at her. In the gloom, she couldn't make out his expression. 'Luckily, you won't be called upon to put that to the test.' His tones remained clipped, excessively precise. The undercurrent of irritation gained in intensity as he continued, 'Why the devil didn't you stay where I left you? And didn't Minnie make you promise not to chase the Spectre in the dark?'

Patience ignored his first question, for which she had no good answer. Not that her answer to his second question was particularly good either. 'I forgot about my promise-I just saw the Spectre and came rushing out. But what are you doing here if it's too dangerous to chase the Spectre?'

'I have special dispensation.'

Patience felt perfectly justified in humphing. 'Where's Myst?'

'Ahead of us.'

Patience looked but couldn't see anything. Obviously, Vane could see better than she could. His stride didn't falter as he wound his way through the rumbled blocks; her arms locked about his neck, she was inwardly very glad she didn't have to hobble up that particular stretch of lawn.

Then the side door loomed out of the murk. Myst stood waiting on the stoop. Patience waited to be put down. Instead, Vane juggled her in his arms and managed to open the door. Once across the threshold, he kicked the door shut, then leaned his shoulders back against it.

'Set the bolts.'

She did as he said, reaching about him. When the last bolt slid home, he straightened and headed on.

'You can put me down now,' Patience hissed as he strode into the front hall.

'I'll put you down in your room'

In the light from the hall candle, Patience saw what she hadn't been able to see before-his face. It was set. In uncompromisingly grim lines.

To her surprise, he headed for the back of the hall, and shouldered open the green baize door. 'Masters!'

Masters popped out from the butler's pantry. 'Yes, sir?-oh my!'

'Indeed,' Vane replied. 'Summon Mrs. Henderson and one of the maids. Miss Debbington went wandering in the ruins and has turned her ankle and wrenched her knee.'

That, of course, did for her. Very thoroughly. Patience had to put up with Masters, Mrs. Henderson, and Minnie's old dresser, Ada, fussing nonstop about her. Vane led the bleating procession up the stairs-as he'd said, he set her down in her room, not before.

He set her, very gently, on the end of her bed. Frowning, he stood back. Hands on hips, he watched as Mrs. Henderson and Ada fussed with a mustard bath for her ankle and the makings of a poultice for her knee.

Apparently satisfied, Vane turned and trapped Patience's gaze. His eyes were hard. 'For God's sake, do as you're told.' With that, he strode for the door.

Utterly dumbfounded, Patience stared after him. She couldn't think of anything halfway suitable to hurl at him before he disappeared. The door clicked shut. She snapped her mouth shut, let herself fall back on the bed, and relieved her feelings with a teeth-gritted groan.

Ada fluttered over. 'It'll be all right, dear.' She patted Patience's hand. 'We'll make it all better in a moment.'

Patience set her teeth-and glared at the ceiling.

Mrs. Henderson came to wake her the next morning. Patience, lying on her back in the middle of her bed, was surprised to see the motherly housekeeper; she'd expected one of the maids.

Mrs. Henderson smiled as she drew the curtains wide. 'I'll need to remove that poultice and bind up your knee.'

Patience grimaced. She'd hoped to escape a bandage. She glanced idly at her clock, then stared. 'It's only seven o'clock.'

'Aye. We doubted you'd sleep all that well, what with the awkwardness.'

'I couldn't turn over.' Patience struggled to sit up.

'It won't be so bad tonight. Just a bandage should be enough from now on.'

With the housekeeper's help, Patience got up. She sat patiently while Mrs. Henderson removed the poultice, clucked over her knee, then bound it up in a fresh bandage.

'I can't walk,' Patience protested, the instant Mrs. Henderson helped her to her feet.

'Of course not. You must stay off your feet for a few days if that knee's to heal.'

Patience closed her eyes and stifled a groan.

Mrs. Henderson helped her to wash and dress, then let her prop against the bed. 'Now, would you like a tray up here, or would you rather go downstairs?'

To think of spending the entire day closeted in her room was bad enough; to be forced to do so would be torture. And if she was to go down the stairs, it had best be now, before anyone else was about. 'Downstairs,' Patience replied decisively.

'Right then.'

To her amazement, Mrs. Henderson left her and headed for the door. Opening it, she put her head out, said something, then stood back, holding the door wide.

Vane walked in.

Patience stared.

'Good morning.' His expression impassive, he crossed the room. Before she could formulate her thoughts, let alone the words to express them, he stooped and scooped her into his arms.

Patience swallowed her gasp. Just like last night-with one highly pertinent alteration.

Last night, she'd been wearing her cloak; its thick folds had muted his touch sufficiently to render it undisturbing. Now, clad in a morning gown of fine twill, even through her petticoats she could feel every one of his fingers, one set gripping her lower thigh, the others firm beneath her arm, close by the swell of her breast.

As he angled her through the door, then straightened and headed for the gallery, Patience tried to steady her breathing, and prayed her blush wasn't as vivid as it felt. Vane's gaze touched her face, then he looked ahead and started down the stairs.

Patience risked a glance at his face-the hard planes were still set, locked and stony, as they had been last night. His fascinating lips were a straight line.

She narrowed her eyes. 'I'm not actually incapacitated, you know.'

The glance he sent her was unreadable. He studied her eyes for an instant, then looked ahead once more. 'Mrs. Henderson says you must keep off your feet. If I find you on them, I'll tie you to a daybed.'

Patience's jaw dropped. She stared at him, but, reaching the bottom of the stairs, he didn't look her way. His boots rang on the hall tiles. Patience drew a deep breath, intending to make her views on his high-handedness plain, only to have to swallow her words; Vane swept into the breakfast parlor-Masters was there. He hurried to