“I am ready,” she said into the thick silence.
His back lifted with the force of his inhaled breath and as he turned Daniella closed her eyes. Never in her life had she felt this level of scrutiny and embarrassment.
She would not call it shame and attach it to her actions. Not ever.
*
In all his life in London, on the battlefields, in the countries he had been to, he had never met anyone so full of blind stupidity. Did she really not think the skirmish they had had earlier in the day could have turned fatal for any one of them or did she just not care? James certainly had. His heart squeezed uncomfortably in chest as he thought of all the ways she could have been hurt. Not for the first time he wondered if Daniella’s inability to take real threats seriously was the true reason she had been dumped in London. Being wrapped in petticoats and politeness was almost the same as a padded room. She wasn’t supposed to be able to find any harm.
And harm was exactly what she had done that man today. And herself.
He tried not to touch her skin at all as he peeled the edges of the blanket back. “You have quite a burn here, Daniella. Why did you hold the gun so close?” He would not think about the paleness of her hip or the ridges of her ribs or the warmth she emanated. She could have been a lot more seriously injured and that was what he should concentrate on.
“I did what I had to do; there wasn’t time for measurements or concentration,” she said.
As she inhaled, the blanket lifted and her thigh came into view. His heart thumped painfully but he set to cleaning the area, instantly relieved the wound wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d first surmised. “That’s why you were to stay in the carriage.”
“Then you would have been killed.”
“I’m touched you think so highly of me as to come to my rescue.”
“I need you right now just as much as you need me, perhaps more.”
She had to stop being so honest with him but he was grateful she saw it that way. He might live to see days beyond this week after all. “I’m going to apply a salve to the burn but you won’t be able to put your dress back on tonight—binding it will only make it hurt more.”
Daniella pulled the edges of the blanket back together so he couldn’t touch her. “If you think I am going to spend the whole night in nothing but this blanket, Trelissick, you can think again.”
“James.”
“What?”
“I want you to call me James.” It had been childishness that made him revert to propriety and he was done with it. “Trelissick is…stuffy. And you did purchase a nightgown.” He pulled at the blanket but she held fast, her fist on the inside of the wool.
“I will be cold.”
“You can sleep next to the fire.”
“And my back?”
“Why do you make such a deal out of this? I will sleep at your back. Between me and the fire, you will be warm and safe.”
“Who will stand watch?”
“Could we please stop arguing?” He was tired and hungry and wet. “Let me apply the salve so we can get warm. You can berate me more then.”
“Very well.”
James took the edges of the blanket and once again pulled them apart. She flinched when he touched his fingers to the burn but said nothing. He expected a curse at the very least.
Despite the angry redness, her skin was still smoother than smooth and James found himself rubbing the salve into areas not affected. As his circles grew bigger, he grew more mesmerized. Had he ever touched a woman so soft yet so unyielding? Beneath his hands lay the tension of corded muscle covered in satin. No pudginess or overindulgence lined her hip, only strength and stamina.
It wasn’t Daniella who put a halt to his exploration—although she should have—it was Patrick knocking hard against the carriage door that drew him back to the present. Once again he met her eyes but this time it was simple to name what he saw there.
Desire.
Yearning.
Need.
Emotions sure to destroy his plans and far too many lives.
He rubbed his hands down the front of his coarse, damp trousers to be rid of the salve and the feeling of her on his fingertips. “I’ll leave you to dress in your nightgown.”
She only nodded. She did not move, did not argue. Seems he’d finally rendered her speechless.
Chapter Fourteen
The following day dawned bright and clear, the storm passing in the night, but Daniella was miserable. Her face was all puffy and her throat itched abominably. Trelissick kept scolding her about keeping dry and warm, and no matter how many times she tried to tell him it was the hay and dust that affected her, he kept up his steady diatribe about looking after herself better and how a dead hostage was no good to him at all. The strangest part was how chatty he was this morning. After sneezing all night long, she didn’t think anyone was well rested.
The dark smudges beneath his eyes attested to the sleepless night but there was something else about his mood this morning she couldn’t quite place.
His concern, if it was genuine, was almost touching. At least she’d finally convinced him she needed fresh air to clear her head and he’d let her ride up top with Willie for most of the morning. The sun on her face and the wind in her hair almost made her forget her troubles and remember the decks of the ship and the freedom she’d once owned.
One good thing about the day was that Willie wanted to chatter and that helped to distract her. He asked her questions about her father and she answered: even if he only asked
