length of time she had been tending to Gavin, which was longer than she had ever nursed another. Moreover, he was not one of her brothers, nor one of the guards she considered in the same vein.
She turned her attention to her remaining stores, which were growing thin. Her ability to grow her own herbs only took her so far. She inevitably needed to replenish them and other items at the apothecary. Taking up her quill, she set her pen to the paper awaiting her on her table and began to make a list of supplies she would need to purchase soon.
Purslain for coughs.
Chamomile oil to relieve swelling and other pains.
Ointment of yarrow for wounds.
Lavender and oil of spike.
Horehound, fennel, asparagus.
“Caro.”
The voice, deep and familiar, and so very unexpected, made her shriek and upend her inkwell.
“Forgive me. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
As she frantically took up one of her laundered rags and attempted to blot up the stain growing over her list, he was suddenly nearer than ever. His heat and strength burned into her back as his massive hand covered hers.
“Allow me to clean this mess. ’Tis of my own making.”
She was frozen. Frozen with a combination of awareness at his nearness, his hand atop hers, his touch making her weak. And too, the knowledge that he had emerged from her room. That he had wandered about The Sinner’s Palace on his own, where he could have been recognized. That Jasper would be furious when he discovered what had happened.
To the devil with Jasper.
She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I will clean it. I am at fault for my clumsiness. You needn’t fret.”
“I am sorry for giving you a fright.” His tone was wry, his voice in her ear, so close that his hot breath skimmed over her flesh, sending a shiver of pure need down her spine.
She turned her head, meeting his gaze. “You are meant to be resting, sir. Abed.”
His fingers tightened over hers, and he gave her the most beautiful smile she had ever beheld on a man’s lips. “Ah, but being abed and alone is one of the true curses of this life. I could not remain there another moment.”
Abed and alone.
For some foolish, wild reason, she thought of joining him there. Of touching him freely and not merely with the intent to soothe, comfort, or heal. Of pressing her mouth to his. Of shedding her clothes and lying with him.
Shocking.
Sinful.
Wrong.
Delicious.
Tempting.
Dangerous.
He was staring at her, waiting, and she realized he had spoken last, but her foolish mind had been too preoccupied with listing words to describe this moment, this man. Oh, why had she been the one to find him, the one to heal him, the one to deceive him?
“You should not be here,” she said at last, hating herself for the breathlessness in her tone.
“Here feels like a deuced fine place to be.”
They stared at each other, the heat between them rising, a lone spark turning into a raging fire. The devil of it was, here felt like an awfully fine place to be for Caro as well.
She swallowed against a fervent rush of longing. “How did you find me?”
“I followed you.”
His confession took her by surprise. He was wilier than she had supposed, even without his memory. A formidable opponent, she had no doubt. And a man she had been lying to from the moment his eyes had fluttered open, confused and bloodshot.
“This morning?” she asked, trying to decipher when he had begun trailing her about The Sinner’s Palace.
Her stops had been many.
“You passed my door, and I followed. You went to the kitchens and emerged with a honey cake.”
So she had. Her eyes narrowed. “You have been following me for the entire morning?”
He cocked his head, studying her, hand still on hers, the touch strangely comforting. “I suppose I have been. You flit about like a butterfly, you do. Never staying in one place for long, flying just out of reach, and bright and beautiful.”
He thought her bright and beautiful?
Her breath caught. “I am not out of reach now.”
“No.” He was unsmiling, his gaze intent. “You aren’t.”
Duty and obligation warred with the desire burning to life within her. She knew she needed to persuade him to go back from whence he had come until she could speak with Jasper. That she should not enjoy his nearness, his touch. That she should be mopping up the spilled ink. And yet, she didn’t want to do anything she was supposed to