Mistletoe and Mayhem - Cheryl Bolen Page 0,226

they travelled any further down this path. Common sense told her to wait until they were back at Davensworth Cottage where others were near in case he flew into a rage. But in her heart, she knew he was kind and gentle.

“Bess, I didn’t—” A shadow of disquiet dimmed his eyes. He cupped her cheeks with such tenderness it caused the backs of her own eyes to sting. “Was I courteous with you?”

“Oh, no-no-no! Please, strike the thought from your mind. You would never hurt a woman.” She brushed his hands from her face. She was undeserving of his tenderness. “It is I who should apologize. We aren’t… We never—”

She pushed from the tree, free of his embrace. Her feet flew out from under her, and she landed on her bum. The impact jarred her bones; her teeth to gnashed. She was too stunned to make a sound when pain exploded in her mouth and filled with a metallic taste.

“Bess!” Julius kneeled beside her. Small drops of red splatted onto her pelisse, soaking into the lavender fabric. “You are bleeding. Let me see.”

Never had a punishment come so swiftly or been more apropos. She’d bitten her own tongue for lying.

Chapter Seven

Julius grumbled under his breath when Bess, groaning and holding her back, crawled from the buckskin leather chair. “Sit down, woman. How many times must we tell you?”

“There is too much greenery on this end.” She pointed to Julius’s side of the mantle, the movement causing her to wince.

“For heaven’s sake, Bess.” Miss Price abandoned the task of dressing the mantle to scold her cousin. “You can barely move, and Lord Julius is doing a fine job. Back to your chair.”

Bess’s chin jutted in mutiny. “It hurts to sit.”

Or walk, or sleep, or move in any way. Julius had suffered enough injuries to recognize the look of misery on her face. By some miracle, she’d avoided cracking her head on the ice, but she would be sore for a few days.

He snatched a feather pillow from the settee and approached her. “Direct me from your seat.” When he extended his hand, he was prepared for more arguing, but she leaned on him and hobbled back to the chair.

“There are too many branches,” she muttered. “It’s uneven.”

“I will follow your every command.” He wedged the pillow behind her back. “How does that feel?”

“It’s too high.” Her sulky tone made him smile.

He bent over her to adjust the pillow behind her lower back and brushed a kiss to the silky crown of her head. Too late, he recalled they weren’t alone. He swung his head toward Miss Price to see if she’d noticed, but she was busy tucking sprigs of holly into the evergreen branches.

“I’m sorry you are in pain.” Julius caressed Bess’s cheek with the backs of his fingers before straightening. “How is your tongue?”

She puckered her lips as if she might stick it out at him. She was a surly invalid, but he suspected she was used to tending other’s needs rather than having her own met.

“It only hurts a little,” she finally admitted.

“Rest assured, it will be in top order soon and as sharp as ever.” He winked before sauntering to the sideboard to pour a finger of brandy into a snifter. Miss Price had brought out her father’s best bottle earlier, although Julius was loath to touch anything stronger than a cup of tea since overindulging at the Sleepy Owl. He returned to Bess’s side to hand her the glass. “A few sips should dull the pain.”

She accepted the drink, cradling the bowl of the snifter in both hands. He stood at attention while she took her first sip. Her nostrils flared and eyes misted, but she managed to swallow the fiery spirits without choking. She slanted a disgruntled look in his direction. “Do you plan to stand over me all night?”

“That depends. Are you going to listen this time?”

“She most certainly will,” her cousin lobbed over her shoulder while redoing Julius’s side of the mantle.

Bess sighed and took another sip. This one went down even easier. Her shoulders lost some of their tension, and she sank into the chair. Julius grabbed a cushioned footstool and encouraged her to elevate her feet. She didn’t argue for once.

With her settled, he returned to assisting her cousin with decorations.

It wasn’t like him to play the role of nursemaid to anyone, but he couldn’t help but have sympathy for Bess. Admitting she lied about the proposal had taken courage. The fall