The Wedding Chase by Rebecca Kelley Read Free Book Online

maid entered with water and cloths. Zel took a cloth and ordered her to fetch the doctor.
    “This may hurt a little.” She wet the cloth and began scrubbing blood off the wound.
    He stiffened, hissing. “By Lucifer’s scaly skin, woman, have a little care. You’re taking off hide with the blood.”
    She pinched back a smile at his colorful language, but gentled the strokes. “Now, my lord, may I hear how a respectable gentleman came to have a knife wound at his throat?”
    “Miss Fleetwood, you’re sadly mistaken in thinking me a respectable gentleman. But if you must know about my little adventure, I was set on by footpads several nights ago outside my club.” His look oozed studied masculine insouciance. “And I’m not bragging to say they came out of the affair in much worse condition than I.”
    Zel scowled at him as she rinsed the cloth. “Violence is nothing of which to be proud.”
    “Ah.” Northcliffe raised his thick black brows. “Have I hit on another cause?”
    “Do not take the focus off yourself.” She squeezed the water from the cloth. “You undoubtably were not taking precautions to avoid the incident.” This was none of her business, but she continued to act like a guilty, meddling fool.
    “This little speech sounds well used.” He winced when she again rubbed too hard. “Your brother?”
    Warmth touched her cheeks. “Excuse me, please. I had no right to say what I did. I am certainly not your mother.”
    “Ahem.” She whirled about as Dr. Lyndon shuffled in.He slowly approached the sofa then quickly took stock of the situation, eyes bright under thick eyeglasses and grizzled brows.
    “This wound is several days old and should have been stitched, my lord.” The doctor turned to Zel, handing her a leather case. “We need to get him to his room. Could you bring this while I help him up the stairs?”
    “I’ll manage on my own.” Wolfgang rose to his feet.
    “I’m sure you can, young man, but you will take my arm all the same.” Dr. Lyndon did not wait for an argument but grabbed Northcliffe’s good arm and moved out of the room.
    When they settled Northcliffe on the massive dark wood four-poster in the incongruously lavender room, Dr. Lyndon turned to Zel. “Miss Fleetwood, you seem to have a level head and a strong stomach. Can you assist?”
    “She’d be happy to.” Northcliffe’s smoky eyes met hers. “She can hold my hand, if nothing else.”
    Zel did hold his hand and his shoulder when he stubbornly refused laudanum for the stitching, claiming he had no head for the stuff and Lady Selby would never forgive him if he slept through dinner.
    As her usefulness ended, Zel felt uncomfortably aware she was in a man’s bedchamber and the man’s state of undress was decidedly advanced. She tried to reassure herself there could be nothing wrong with Dr. Lyndon beside her, but her eyes kept returning to Northcliffe’s torso. Never had she seen so much bare skin on a man other than her father or brother, and neither of them looked much like Northcliffe. She found she had a peculiar fascination for the curly black hair powdering his firmly muscled chest. Following the dark line down over his flat stomach, she stopped suddenly at the waistband of his riding breeches. The room became too close. Too warm.
    “Everything seems under control.” She felt pleased that her voice sounded calm although she knew her color rose higher. “I need to leave to dress for dinner.”
    “I’ll see you there.” Northcliffe gave her his disarming grin. “Thank you, Nurse Fleetwood.”
    “You should rest.” Zel inwardly chided herself for even glancing at the small male nipples hiding under the dusting of hair. After all, the man had just been stitched and bandaged.
    “I’ll be down for dinner.” He caught her eyes, and she knew he was pleased to be the object of her wayward attentions. “You can lend me your shoulder and hold me up during dinner.”
    With one last scolding look she