One Perfect Rose by Mary Jo Putney Read Free Book Online Page A

that you took no serious injury.”
    â€œThank you,” he murmured, his voice still almost inaudible.
    â€œIt’s you who needs thanking. My whole family will be eternally grateful for what you did.” She frowned. “Do you live in Fletchfield? Perhaps we should have taken you there, but Redminster is closer.”
    He shook his head. “Live in…the West Country,” he managed.
    â€œThen we’ll take care of you until you’re well enough to travel home.” She laid her hand over his. “I’m Rosalind Jordan. I’m afraid I don’t even know your name.”
    â€œAsh…” His throat dried before he could finish saying Ashburton.
    Mrs. Jordan cocked her head to one side. “Mr. Ashe?”
    He tried to correct her, but the wagon lurched into a deep rut, pitching him against a trunk of some sort. As he slipped into unconsciousness again, he was glad that Lady Caliban still held his hand.
    Â 
    He was running through a field of flowers, pursuing a laughing woman. Her hair streamed behind her with all the colors of autumn, and her figure was sumptuously female. He caught her by the edge of the meadow and swung her around for a kiss. She tasted of wild strawberries. Her hands ran through his hair, stroking and teasing as her breathing quickened. In the way of dreams, suddenly they were lying down together, and she was responding to his caresses with an eagerness that matched his own .
    He pulled her close and kissed her again. Wild, sweet strawberries. She yielded utterly, kissing him back with frantic ardor.
    Then suddenly she was pushing against his chest, saying breathlessly, “You’re obviously feeling better.”
    His dream faded, and he realized that he was looking into startled chocolate eyes that were only inches away. He was lying on his side, this time in a real bed, in a dark, candlelit room. And Rosalind Jordan lay within the circle of his arm, hair disheveled, mouth lusciously kissable, and her expression between laughter and dismay.
    He wanted to kiss her again. Instead, feeling as if her mouth and body had imprinted his like a brand, he reluctantly bid good-bye to the field of flowers and moved away. “Good God, I’m sorry, Mrs. Jordan. What…what has happened? Where am I?”
    She propped herself up on one arm and pushed a wisp of hair behind her ear. She was fully clothed and lying on top of the covers. “A fine nurse I am,” she said wryly. “I’m the one who should apologize for not doing my job better. You seemed to be doing well, so I lay down to get a bit of rest and promptly fell asleep.”
    She covered her mouth and gave a delicate yawn. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. We’re at the Three Crowns in Redminster. A physician has examined you. He said you’ll have a headache and will need a day or two of rest, but your adventure caused no real harm. How are you feeling?”
    Hoping his voice sounded normal, he replied, “The doctor was right about the headache, but otherwise I’m well enough, Mrs. Jordan.”
    â€œCall me Rosalind. Everyone does. Except when they call me Rose.” She gave him a wonderful, sunny smile. “After that kiss, formality would seem out of place.”
    As he flushed and muttered another apology, she yawned again, then swung her feet to the floor on the opposite side of the bed. “Would you like some soup? The landlady sent up a jug in a straw-packed basket, so it should still be warm. There’s a pitcher of milk, too, in case that would settle better.”
    Though food had not always agreed with him lately, he realized that tonight he was famished. “Soup would be very welcome.”
    Cautiously he pushed himself upright and leaned back against the headboard. A wave of dizziness went over him but quickly subsided. He wondered who had put his nightshirt on him. “Is it my imagination, or is this situation very