Dedicated Villain by Patricia Veryan Read Free Book Online

rubdown with his left hand, promising to come and do it properly in a few minutes, and wondering if he could manage such a feat.
    â€œDo hurry, sir! You must be frozen!”
    He responded to that urgent call and made his painful way to the steps once more. The girl had removed her cloak, and stood waiting for him. She ran to take his arm, advising him to lean on her as he negotiated the steps. He contrived to do so. She was very short, but she was young, and he thought glumly that if she was also comely and lived alone in her little caravan, he might soon have made them both warm, save that fate had been so unkind as to disable him. She pushed the door open and, sighing regretfully, he glanced at her, only to recoil instinctively.
    From head to toe, she was mud. It streaked down her forehead, covered her face, and sullied her pale green gown. Her hood must have been of little protection, for her hair was soaked and had plastered itself in wet strands around the oval face and hung in a lank straggle about her shoulders. She might as well have been wearing a mask, for all he could really distinguish were her eyes, which were a rather odd shape, somewhatnarrow and slightly uptilted at the corners, but of a clear light green. They twinkled at him now, and she said rather illogically, “Oh dear, you
are
a mess! Poor man! And—alas, I’ve no fire to warm you, for the rain put mine out. I have saved hot water though, thank goodness.” She went to the rear of the caravan, calling over her shoulder, “You must take off your clothes at once!”
    Mathieson could have wept. A golden opportunity, ruined! That it truly
was
ruined became more evident when he started to unbutton his cloak. His right thumb was swelling and so painful he could scarcely endure to move it. He fumbled with his left hand, stifling the curse that rose to his lips, but the girl must have been watching because at once she was standing directly before him again, peering up with anxious if bizarre solicitude into his face.
    â€œWhat is it? Why do you just stand there shivering instead of taking off your clothes?”
    She was a bold lass, if nothing else. Confound the luck! But the humour of it all struck him, and he held out his hand saying ruefully, “’Fraid I’ll have to disappoint you tonight, my pretty.”
    â€œOh, dear!” She touched his thumb with one feather-light finger. “What a pity. Is it dislocated, do you think? My brother did that once, and it was exceeding painful until Papa re-set it.”
    â€œA sprain, more likely, and a confounded nuisance.” He added with a suggestive wink, “Tonight, especially.”
    She nodded. “I should probably bandage it so you do not use it for a while, but first we must have your garments off, they’re fairly dripping mud!”
    â€œSo are yours,” he pointed out. “I can manage. Do you tend to yourself and the little one.” He glanced about. “Where is she?”
    â€œUnder there.” She indicated a blanket lying in a bundle on the upper of two narrow bunks attached to the left wall of the caravan. “She’s warmer now, poor mite. I’ll fetch some hotwater and be back in a minute.” And she was gone with a whirl of petticoats and a slam of the door.
    Mathieson had never been inside a caravan before and as he shivered and swore his way out of cloak and coat, he was intrigued to find things cramped but very neat and orderly. A straight-backed wooden chair with a brightly embroidered cushioned seat stood in the far corner, which would be the front end were they moving. A tall narrow cupboard was bolted to the wall beside it, and on the left wall were the two bunks. Several books and periodicals were piled on a small shelf enclosed by a guard rail, and a large brass-bound trunk did double duty as a table. Strings of onions and a rope basket of vegetables hung from the ceiling. The remaining wall space was home to a