Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

A fter depositing Grace on a chair in his bed chamber, Oliver shut the door and went to work on boiling water for some hot tea. He wasn't exactly sure how to play a nursemaid, but he knew at least getting warm liquid into her would be helpful. He also pulled out bandages and some ointment to help clean the scrapes on her hands. He should also try to get the swelling down on her ankle. He knew something cold would likely help that, but he needed to ensure that she was staying warm first before he subjected her to something cold.

He heard a thump and then a muffled voice. His heart pounded as he made his way toward the closed door. "Miss …" He paused, suddenly feeling silly for not knowing her name. "Are you quite all right?"

"No, I am not all right, not in the least. "

He smiled, she had a fire in her, that much was certain. "Shall I help you?"

She moaned. "Yes, please."

He opened the door slowly and saw her on the floor. "What happened?"

"I tried to get the laces undone. It didn't work."

He averted his eyes. After her hesitancy in helping with her boots, he wasn't sure if he would be useful at all. "I am not sure how I shall help with that."

She sighed. "Shall I ask Apollo instead?"

"I can call him. He's staying by the fire presently."

She smiled. "I am normally quite capable of dressing myself under normal circumstances." She pulled the blanket to her front and angled away from him. "Can you undo the laces? My fingers are too sore and cold to do it."

"Yes, of course." He swallowed. He came toward her and helped her back onto the chair. He swept away the loose strands of her hair around her neck so he didn't pull them. In the process his fingers brushed the back of her neck. Her skin felt like ice. Soft ice.

She shivered as he pulled and tugged on the wet laces, wondering how she managed to get this on or off without a maid. He didn't let his mind wander to anything else, only stayed focused on his task. It was just like helping her with her boot. Except that he wouldn't stay long enough to examine if she had bruises underneath. He closed his eyes to the thought. Finally the laces were loosened enough, and he took a step back .

"I believe that you can do the rest from here," he said.

She took a shallow breath. "Thank you, Ollie."

"You're welcome, Miss. Call for me when you are changed and I will carry you back to the settee." He quickly exited the room, his face hot first from seeing her feet and ankles to touching the smoothness of her back. He shook his head. He was a gentleman, a man of honor in every sense of the word. And she was an unprotected woman at his house. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize her reputation, or his, for that matter.

He went back to the tea kettle, now full of bubbling water, and poured two cups of tea. He didn't have much to add to the tea as would be customary, but he pulled out some bread and two small pieces of sweet cake. Then he filled another bowl full of clean water. He finished setting everything on the tables next to the settee, when he heard her call from the room.

He found her sitting on the chair, wearing a dry cream-colored day dress. Next to her feet was a heap of wet clothes on the floor. He averted his eyes from her uncovered bare ankles and wrapped a thick blanket around her shoulders. Then picked her up and carried her back to the settee, where she could warm up next to the fire.

"Thank you," she said.

He nodded. "I am happy to help. You shouldn't walk on your ankle while it is swollen." He gave her another blanket, which she rested on her lap.

"And thank you, for earlier—for saving my life. "

He handed her a cup of tea. "You're welcome."

She tipped the cup up to her mouth. She only took a few sips and set the cup down, her face lined with pain.

"You should drink more. You need to warm yourself."

She turned over her palms, scratched and caked with dirt and blood. She winced. "I can't."

Oliver pulled his chair closer to the settee, so he was directly in front of her. He took her hands in his, and dipped a clean cloth into the bowl of hot water to clean them.

She winced, shutting her eyes tightly. "It stings."

"I am sorry this pains you. Believe me when I say I do not like inflicting such pain. But it is the best thing for such cuts. It hurts less than an infection would if it is not properly cleaned," he said, ringing out a new cloth in the hot water and gently cleaning each cut as best he could.

"I'm not sure that's very comforting, Ollie," she said.

"It may not be comforting, but it is the truth, Miss …" He waited for her to fill in her name, but she didn't. "I do apologize that we cannot stand on ceremony, and approach everything properly. But as there is no one to introduce us, perhaps you can tell me your name, so I can address you with something besides miss."

She nodded slowly. "My name is Miss Campbell. It's very nice to meet you, Ollie? That is your name?" She said it like a question.

He smiled. "You may call me Ollie." It kept things much less complicated.

"What kind of name is Ollie anyway? "

He looked up at her. "It is a name my friends call me."

She winced again, her face contorted in pain. "I have never heard it before," she admitted, her words coming out through gritted teeth.

He focused on her fingers, making sure each was clean before applying ointment onto a clean cloth. He touched the cloth to the first cut, and she immediately jerked her hand away.

"Ouch."

"Miss Campbell, shall I tell you about the time I learned to always use an ointment on a cut, no matter the size?" He needed something to keep her mind off the task for at least a few more minutes.

Miss Campbell cringed. "You may tell me any story, as long as I do not have to speak."

He held her hand firmly in his and gently put the ointment on each cut. "I went fishing with a good friend of mine. We were down by the lake, and I wanted to show my friend how perfect the hook could swing around on my pole."

"How old were you?"

"I thought you didn't want to talk."

"I am trying to picture a younger version of you. At which age should I imagine this story? Were you seventeen?"

He chuckled. "I was likely only half that, thank you very much. Around eight or nine."

She took a deep breath. "You may continue. "

"I swung the hook around my pole perfectly several times. I am sure I was quite proud of my accomplishment. Until the hook lodged into my leg."

She squinted her eyes, shaking her head. "That sounds very painful."

"It wasn't in the moment. The cut wasn't very deep at all. It didn't even bleed too badly. We removed the hook, and I tied something around the cut to stop the bleeding. Then my friend and I went swimming and fishing the rest of the day."

"Sounds like you did just fine without any ointment." She lifted her brow.

Oliver shook his head. "That is where you are wrong, Miss Campbell. Three days later, I was in bed with a fever, and a very infected leg. My mother and the doctor were not happy when I had told them what had happened. The doctor had to cut away the infection, and though I was lucky and the infection hadn't spread too deeply, it was probably the most physically painful thing I've ever been through."

"That sounds horrible. I suppose I do not want my hands cut off to get rid of the infection," she said with a hint of laughter through her grimace.

"With such lovely hands as yours, they should definitely not be cut off," he said, averting his gaze from her. Had he just admitted aloud that he liked the look and feel of her hands? Even roughed up as they were on the palms, he could tell that her skin was very soft.

He rambled on about his dog and his horse, and asked about her horse, while he finished cleaning her other hand. He needed a distraction from the curiosity he felt about her. Finally, when he'd finished applying the ointment, he wrapped her hands loosely in bandages. "The ointment takes a long time to soak in. It will keep infections away while your cuts heal, but to prevent it from coming off, the bandages should stay on for the next day."

"That is going to make riding a horse challenging, but I must do what I must do," she said.

"I wouldn't attempt it tomorrow, especially with the state your ankle is in. Is there anything else that hurts? Remember my hook story. Let us not find any cuts getting infected in a few days."

She shook her head, then put a hand to her head. "I think everything else is aches and pains and probably bruises."

He nodded and held out her cup of tea. She held up her bandaged hands. "I do not think these bandages are conducive to drinking tea."

He held the rim of the cup out to her. "Allow me," he said.

Her eyes were locked on his as she accepted the drink. When she was finished he pulled the cup away from her lips.

"Thank you, Ollie," she said softly.

"You are welcome, Miss Campbell." He offered her some of the bread and the sweet cake, feeding her with small bites on a fork until she'd had enough .

"May I ask, what you were doing out in the woods unaccompanied?" He asked the question that had been swimming in the back of his mind.

"I told you I was on my way to my cousin's house. She is hosting a house party in a few days."

"That does not explain why you were unaccompanied."

"Mrs. Mead has not gotten better, but she also did not want me to attend to her, as she had her three daughters with her. The groomsman I asked about the distance assured me that my cousin's house was merely ten miles from where we were. I left a note with him. I knew that Mrs. Mead wouldn't be able to spare her groomsmen when they were ready to depart. But waiting for her to recover—I thought I would have been to my cousin's house long before nightfall. I truly didn't think it was so very far from the Grantham inn."

Oliver whistled. "That is quite far indeed. And you came all the way here alone today?"

She nodded.

"You are either very brave or very foolish," he said.

She held up her bandaged hands. "Perhaps a little of both." She yawned, then put a bandaged hand to her head. "I am much more tired than I realized," she said through another yawn.

Oliver stood up abruptly. "I shall start a fire in the bed chamber. You'll be much more comfortable in the bed than the settee."

"I couldn't. I do not wish to inconvenience you. "

"It is no trouble at all. I will be back in a few moments." He left to start the fire. Then he turned down the sheets. On his way out of the room, he took her wet clothes off the floor. "I will hang these up by the fire. They should be dry by morning."

"First you are my rescuer, then my nursemaid, and now my wash maid? Is there anything you do not do?" she asked in a light tone.

"Don't forget I made you tea as well." He smiled at her then began hanging up her dripping clothes.

"You are very accomplished. Though I must say it feels a little awkward that you are taking my clothes like a wash maid," she said.

"It would be even more awkward if you had to put on wet, cold clothes in the morning."

"A fair point," she said.

He surveyed her. Her cheeks were pink, but he couldn't tell if that was because of their conversation or if she was finally warming up. "Do you still feel cold?" he asked her.

"I am much warmer now. Thank you."

He carried her into his room and laid her on the bed. "Is there anything else you require?"

"You have been most kind. I cannot think of anything else I need." The wind shook the windows, rattling and howling with the increase in the storm. Miss Campbell jumped and pulled at the blanket wildly. "Is that a wolf?"

"It is only the wind in the trees and against the glass," he said soothingly. "You are quite safe here. "

She nodded, but the look in her eye made Oliver think that she wasn't convinced by his words. His mind raced to think what might calm her. She was a stranger to him. He grabbed a book from his shelf. It was an exhaustive work on the native plants and animals of the area. He cleared his throat. "Sometimes it is hard to sleep when you are in pain." He didn't want to draw attention to the fear he'd seen in her eyes at the sounds from outside. "Shall I read to you? I must warn you that I read very dully when I read aloud. It may help you fall asleep."

She laughed. "You read dully? On purpose?"

He shrugged. At least she'd laughed, even if it was at his expense. He pulled the covers over her, and added an extra blanket on top of her. "Your comb is still in your hair. May I help you with it?"

"You may. And there are half a dozen pins that are holding the rest of my hair."

He hesitated. The large silver comb in her hair would likely cause her discomfort as she slept and as it was visible, it was easy to remove. But finding pins in her hair was an entirely different matter. He gently pulled out the comb and placed it on the side table next to the bed.

"The pins are easy enough to find," she said, then explained the location of each with enough precision that he was able to take them out without letting his fingers linger too long on her soft tresses.

"I'll be out on the settee, if you need anything, just call for me. "

She leaned her head back against the pillows. "And you will read to me?"

"Of course." He took the book from the side table. He'd completely forgotten about his offer to read to her. He pulled his small chair closer to the bed. "I will read you the exciting tales of the exotic fauna and flora found in these parts of our beautiful country. And if you stay awake through that, I might even get as far as reading about the animals, which can be even more exciting."

"Very well," she said.

Oliver exaggerated his hand motions when he opened the book and turned to the first page. He cleared his throat and read in the most monotone voice he could contrive. "In the year of fourteen hundred, the Crown commissioned a …"

"Indeed I shall never sleep a wink with such excitement." She laughed.

"I told you, I have a dull reading voice." He smiled at her. "Close your eyes and try to rest. It has been a long day. I will read to you until you are asleep."

"That's how the book starts? It is not quite a story, is it?" She looked toward the book.

He turned the book around, showing her the first page. "This is more of a reference book than a storybook. It's perfect for falling asleep.

"Thank you. And goodnight, Ollie," Miss Campbell said.

"Sleep well, Miss Campbell," he said, then resumed reading. "…The Crown commissioned a degree to all landowners to categorize their properties not only from a building standpoint, but also the natural world. This led to the rise of the scholars who would travel from …"

"Ollie?" Miss Campbell's voice was soft.

"Yes, Miss Campbell?" he asked.

"My friends call me Grace," she said.

"Goodnight, Grace," he said, liking the way her Christian name rolled off his lips. Grace . It fit her. He stared at her for a long moment, the dark curls of her hair, framing her face. Her skin was brighter than it had been when he'd carried her home. She took deep, even breaths, and Oliver was captured by the moment.

"Ollie?" she said again, this time her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, Grace?"

"Would you read a little more to me?" she asked.

"Of course, Grace," he said, before turning the page and finishing the introduction.