himself. Where the hell had he put his objectivity? Her functions had simply slowed because of the drug and her constrictive underpinnings. Stupid to react like some cork-brained first-termer who’d never attended a bedside before. You’ve given her a stimulant, now take off the damned corset and see if she improves!
Still he hesitated. She was no willing paramour who wanted him to see her naked, but a helpless woman he’d rendered unconscious. This was wrong, all of it. After taking the oath to preserve health and life, he’d purposely put someone at risk.
Hell, he always got too involved with his patients, but how could he help it? The responsibility for another’s life was daunting, too much like playing God without a rule book or the proper power to pull it off. As with Jon.
If only he had thought this out first and found another way to prevent her meeting with Terry. Neil cursed himself for reverting to that inborn proclivity to act on impulse. He thought he’d had that conquered years ago.
“I’ll make it up to you, you know. Anything you want” Anything but let you wed Terry, he added silently, reason returning.
Nonsense, he thought. What unmitigated foolishness. She’s just a hardheaded adventuress with a nose full of chloroform who needs a bit of care to bring her around So get on with it.
Bending over her, Neil released the row of tiny buttons on her bodice and stripped her as efficiently as he had all the battle victims he’d tended.
The breathing improved immediately, Neil noticed with relief. Her skin color looked better, too. Peaches and cream, soft, silken…beautiful. He forced his gaze away from her breasts, embarrassed at his lack of decorum, guilty at the way his body reacted to the sight of her. He cursed the impulse to touch her.
Stalking across the room, he snatched one of his old linen shirts out of the wardrobe. It smelled of cedar and starch, but not unpleasantly. She’d certainly prefer this to his rummaging through her valise for a night rail. The weathered case looked ready to explode at a touch. He didn’t think he could deal with a scattered sea of her frilly furbelows.
When he’d dressed her and neatly tucked her in, he bundled her soiled clothing along with the sheets he’d removed and stowed them outside in the hall. Then he pulled the bedroom draperies shut and sat down to wait. Exhausted as she was, it might be awhile before the mild stimulant kicked in and she woke again.
What the devil would he do with her then? Several things hopped to mind. His lecherous thoughts had dissipated a bit, only to return now with hurricane force. Neil suspected that was going to happen with disturbing frequency as long as he kept her here, his guilt notwithstanding.
The delicate little piece looked like a tuckered-out child lying there. This feeling of tenderness toward Elizabeth Mar-leigh bothered him. It was undeserved on her part, and maddening on his. But she seemed so vulnerable. Her cap of red-gold curls framed such an angelic face, barely free of its baby roundness. This one was no infant, though, and most assuredly no angel. He’d do well to remember that and keep his sympathy—and his hands—to himself.
Why had she embarked on such a wanton life? he wondered. If she had controlled her baser nature, there would have been no impediment to her wedding his nephew—a beautiful, wealthy heiress for a fine, fledgling earl. The Marleigh name was one of England’s oldest and most respected. That is, until she had destroyed it with those foolish escapades of hers.
Neil passed his thumb over the watch Jon had left him, rubbing it like a talisman, renewing his promise to keep Terry safe. He looked down at, the case and the glint of gold mocked him, made him think of the Marleigh woman’s gilded curls.
She had ruined herself, but, by God, she wouldn’t ruin Terry! If hiding her here was the only way to prevent the marriage, so be it. Perhaps when the lad found her missing at their appointed rendezvous, he’d become disenchanted and give up thoughts of marriage. He might search for her, of course. Probably would, given Terry’s tenacious nature. But he would never look here.
Bearsden had stood vacant since Neil’s maternal grandparents died. He felt no sentimental attachment to the place and should have sold it long ago. Still, for some twisted reason, he’d kept it cared for, and even visited occasionally. He doubted Terry knew the property existed.
How would Lady Marleigh explain to her young lover an absence of a week or so from town? Yes, this ought to work. If Neil could just keep her here in the country awhile, word would get around that she had struck up with another paramour.
No one would take her seriously even if she told exactly what had happened. Who would believe it if she named him as her abductor? A respected physician stealing away with the likes of her? Neil could hardly believe it himself. Or countenance the fact that he’d really done it. Leaning his head to one side and clasping his hands across his middle, he allowed himself to doze….
Neil awakened with a start, almost falling out of the wing chair. The patter of hurried footsteps on the bare floor of the hallway brought him to his feet, running. He tore out of the room and down the hall, catching her at the top of the stairs. Clamping his arms around her, he forced her forward against the banister.
She landed a backward kick to his knee that almost sent them both plunging headfirst over the rail. Neil tumbled her to the floor facedown, clutching her this way and that, struggling to subdue clawing hands and kicking feet.
Lord, she was strong! It was like trying to stuff a wildcat into a sack. His fingers closed over hers, squeezing them into fists while he threw one leg over both of hers. She finally went limp, her back heaving against his chest. Neil relaxed his hold and started to speak. She leaned forward and bit the back of his hand.
“Ow! Damn you, stop! Stop it! I’ll thrash—”
She bit harder. He clamped his own teeth over a mouthful of her curls and yanked her head back sharply. She let go of his hand with an ear-piercing screech. Neil rolled sideways and landed on top of her, their hands imprisoned beneath her and her face pressed to the hardwood floor. “Be still or I’ll throttle you, you wildcat!”
All the life seemed to drain out of her once more and she stopped breathing. Silence reigned for a full minute. He frowned down at her. Was this another trick to throw him off guard? The one eye he could see didn’t blink, but stared at the wall. Tears poured out in a steady stream, but she didn’t sob. Didn’t move. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart under their joined hands.
“Will you fight if I let you up?” he asked.
No answer.
“I won’t hurt you.”
She still said nothing, just stared at the baseboard, weeping silently.
“I promise I won’t hurt you.”
He gave up waiting for an answer and moved off of her. She sucked in a deep breath and shuddered, making no move to rise. The shirt he’d put on her had become wound around her waist, so her lower body was bare. Neil froze at the sight of her pert little buttocks. He fought the sudden stirring in his groin.
Fury at his unwanted arousal made him gruffer than he meant to be. He yanked at the tail of the shirt to cover her. “Get up!”
Slowly she pulled herself to her knees and stared at him, wide-eyed and tense. Her lower lip trembled and the tears continued to freshen and fall.
The sight undid him completely. He caught her to him and held her as he
