world’s greatest arse. “I am sorry for doing it, as I know I should not have.”
“What did you hear?” she demanded, a tenseness he could not quite comprehend tingeing her voice.
He wondered at the reason for the change in her demeanor. Was she angry he had been listening? Or was she worrying over what he may have heard? And if so, why? Was there more to his angelic butterfly than a beautiful face and the hands of a healer?
“I heard nothing,” he lied, and he was not sure why. Some instinctive prodding within. Perhaps a hint of the man he once had been wearing through the abyss of his empty mind. “You seemed distraught. I continued pacing and broke your book.”
She nodded, accepting his deception. “I should look at your arm and make certain you did not reopen the wound so soon after the stitches were removed.”
He clenched his jaw at the notion of her touching him after the passionate kisses they had shared. How the hell was he to maintain his composure? To remain unaffected, or at least to pretend that he was?
He swallowed. “Go on, then. Have a peek as you like.”
She approached him warily, as if she feared he would take her in his arms and kiss the breath out of her again. And he wanted to. Lord, how he wanted to. But he was a confused jumble of emotions and sensations. Longing, suspicion, desire, and gratitude had all melded into a sick soup within him.
Caro took his coat in a confident grasp and tugged it down his arms. Her seductive scent settled over him once more, and he could not avoid its resulting effect. Damn it, his prick was stirring to awareness again, all from the mere act of shedding his coat.
The shirt she had given him had been modified with additional buttons below the ordinary three at his neckline, enabling him to don the shirt without the pain of having to overexert himself. Caro had thought of everything, and he was bloody thankful for her prescience. For her healing abilities. For her care and concern.
She removed his cravat, but when he attempted to aid in the buttons on his shirt, she chased his fingers. “Allow me.”
Well.
He did not think he had ever been undressed by another before. If he had, he certainly possessed no recollection of it. But this, Caro, standing in proximity, her small hands brushing over him in quick, efficient movements, her floral perfume coiling around him…it moved him. There was a deeper sense of intimacy involved, mayhap now that they had kissed, but unless he was mistaken, there was something else there. Some nagging sense he was connected to her in a way that went beyond the connection of patient and nurse.
He held still as she pulled the shirt open to reveal his wounded arm. The cool kiss of her fingertips ran over his flesh in a gentle examination that only served to heighten his already painful state of awareness. His breath seemed to freeze, his heart thudding hard and fast in his chest.
“You did not do any further damage, thank heavens,” she murmured. “But you must consider your wound as you move about. The skin is newly healed and sensitive. I’ll not have you undoing all my efforts.”
He made the mistake of looking down at her. Their gazes clashed and held. Her lips parted.
He wanted to kiss her again.
“I promise to take more care,” he managed, his voice husky.
“See that you do.” Her tone was practical. Almost polite. And yet, she did not move away. Nor did she make any effort to cease touching him.
Her fingers trailed lower, to the skin below his wound. “You have an inking.”
He glanced down, watching as her touch traced the letters he had discovered had been etched into his skin. They would not be washed away. “A tattoo,” he agreed. “I do not know what it means.”
He wished he did. He wished he remembered everything. But then, none of that seemed as important when Caro was near enough to kiss. When Caro was caressing him. He wanted her more than he wanted his next breath.
“It must bear some significance,” she said softly. “DDBGD.”
“Aye.” He knew the letters, had memorized them. Had searched his empty, frustrated mind for any hint as to what they may mean. “I wish I knew.”
“Do they represent names, I wonder?” Her gaze lowered, following the progression of her touch as she closed the last D. “Did it hurt?”
She wasn’t asking him,