“Mags. My housekeeper. I sent her to bed a couple of hours ago. Peggy, one of the maids, is coming in at midnight to watch ye.” He glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel. “In about half an hour.”
“I’m a lot of bother.”
“Not at all.” Her remark reminded him of his role as sickroom attendant. “How are ye feeling?”
Her lips turned down with the self-mockery that he was beginning to think might be characteristic. “Like I’ve been through a shipwreck.”
He could imagine. “Would ye like anything? Something to eat? Something to drink? Are ye warm enough?” He stifled the memory of how she’d looked lying before him in just her nightdress.
She made an apologetic gesture. “A glass of water, please.”
“On its way.” He crossed to the dresser to fill a glass and carry it back to her. When she reached out to take it, the covers slipped to reveal the way her breasts pressed against the nightdress. Every cell in his body went on alert, much as he loathed the reaction.
Damn it, he should have let Mags sit with her.
“Thank you,” she said, with the lovely manners he’d noticed from the first. “Please don’t wait up with me. I’m sure I can sleep without supervision.”
With a brooding air, Diarmid watched the girl sip the water. “Dr. Higgins says head injuries can be unpredictable. He doesnae want ye to be alone until he’s sure you’re out of danger.” In fact, Higgins had left him with a list of questions to ask if the girl woke up. “Is your head sore? Any nausea? Any double vision?”
“Yes. No. No.” A shaking hand rose to touch her temple. “I’m sure the headache is only the result of a common or garden thump on the head.”
“He said to listen for slurred speech and confusion.”
“I think I sound all right.”
“I do, too. Apart from no’ knowing who ye are.”
Which he still didn’t believe. Despite the unwelcome lust that had ambushed him, his powers of deduction were as sharp as they’d ever been. She took her loss of memory too easily for it to be anything but a hoax.
She grimaced. “Apart from that. I’m overwhelmed with all this kindness.”
“Och, it’s the Highland way to help travelers in trouble.” He reached out to take the glass, which looked likely to spill in her unsteady grip. The brief brush of his fingers across hers shot a blast of heat up his arm. He’d reined in his animal awareness of her, by heaven, but he hadn’t banished it. “More?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you.”
He placed the glass on the nightstand. “Is your head any better?”
More humor deepened the corners of that soft, pink mouth. “I swear there’s a troupe of monkeys playing cymbals and drums inside my skull.”
He frowned, worried. “Dr. Higgins left a powder for ye to take if you were troubled in the night.”
“Troubled. Aye, that’s one word for it.”
“Ye dreamed.” Before he sat, he pushed his chair further away from the bed.
He was sorry he’d spoken when the hunted expression returned to her face. “Did I…did I say anything?”
He couldn’t mistake her relief when he shook his head. “Nothing I could make sense of.”
Which wasn’t totally true.
She avoided his eyes and started to pluck at the sheets around her waist. “I must have been dreaming about the wreck.”
“Aye,” he said, surer than ever that she lied, however plausible it might be that she should relive her ordeal. Her lie was another reminder that even if he was prepared to disregard the rules of hospitality, he needed to keep his hands off his delectable visitor.
He stood and crossed to stoke the fire so that he didn’t have to stare at her any longer. Staring at her was bad for his willpower, he discovered.
“Would you give me a moment’s privacy, please?”