She turned back to her companion, and an involuntary gasp escaped. “You look awful.”
He gave a surprised grunt of laughter and scraped his hand across the stubble darkening his angular jaw. “Thank you.”
She blushed. “I’m sorry. I had no right…”
“No harm done. I’m sure your observation, if not polite, was accurate.” He sounded like the man who had found her in the stable. Ironic. Distant. In command of himself.
Except now she knew his composure was a
veneer.
He might sound like master of all he surveyed. But he didn’t look much better than he had last night when he’d shivered in her arms. Dark circles surrounded sunken, dull eyes. His tan held a sickly hue in the pale sunlight penetrating the windows. He badly needed a shave, and his hair was a tousled mess.
His eyes sharpened on her. With every moment, he looked more alert. “How is your arm, Miss Watson?”
She didn’t immediately recognize her false identity. Dear Lord, let him not notice her hesitation. She needed to remember the danger she faced if he discovered who she was. Difficult when the last day had only built the affinity she’d so quickly felt for him.
Carefully she flexed her fingers. Hardly a twinge. “Much better, thank you.” She studied him as he sprawled against the worn leather upholstery. His long legs extended across the well between the two seats. The shabby carriage wasn’t built for a man of his height. “How are you?”
He stretched and winced, then leaned his head back. “It was just a passing inconvenience.”
His expression indicated movement was painful. After lying still for so long, he’d be stiff as a board. The continual rolling and jolting of the vehicle must be agonizing. She ignored his unconvincing lie and dropped to her knees on the rocking floor.
“Let me take your boots off and rub your legs. I nursed my father in his last illness. This helped him when he’d had a bad night.”
She’d forgotten no decent young lady offered to touch a gentleman who wasn’t a close relative. She remembered only when he tensed, and his dark eyes flashed with horror. “Miss Watson, please return to your seat. I assure you my slight troubles don’t warrant your concern.”
Clumsily, her cheeks flaming with mortification, she scrambled back onto her seat. “I’m…I’m not usually so rag-mannered.”
Yesterday he’d suffered her touch. He’d turned his face into her hand as she’d wiped his brow. But yesterday he’d been victim to his mysterious illness.
“It was a generous offer,” he said kindly.
She hated his kindness. Because clearly it wasn’t based on anything personal, like regard or respect. She hated owing her safety to that disinterested kindness.
Hiding a wince as the movement tested her sore arm, she fumbled to open a flask of water Tulliver had given her last night. “Are you thirsty?”
“Dry as sand.” He accepted the flask without touching her fingers.
Charis berated herself for noticing. And minding. Did she want to fend off a Lothario? She should commend Sir Gideon as a man of honor.
Sourly, she recognized her hypocrisy.
Fascinated, she watched the movement of his powerful throat as he tipped his head to drink. Nor did she miss the tightness around his eyes as he returned the flask and subsided against the upholstery.
“Does your head hurt?” she asked before she reminded herself he wouldn’t appreciate her solicitude.
A fleeting smile curved his lips. “Like the very devil.” He sighed heavily. “All of this must frighten you. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t frighten easily,” she said flatly.
He didn’t argue although he must know she’d been terrified in Winchester. More of his cursed kindness. She wouldn’t resent it nearly so much if he didn’t use it as defense against her curiosity.
“Your face seems better this morning,” he said.
“Oh.” She’d forgotten what a horror she must look. She raised a tentative hand to her sore jaw. It didn’t feel as distended. Speaking was certainly easier. Whatever heathen potions Akash had slathered on her, they’d worked. “Yes.”
Sir Gideon’s regard was steady as it rested upon her. Steady and implacable. “Will you trust me with the truth now? You have no aunt in Portsmouth. You’re on the run from someone. Someone who threatens your very life if the state I found you in is any indication.”