Page 37 of Regency in Color

Chapter Four

Knocks sounded.

Thomas called out for whoever it was to enter, and Mary came into the room instantly making it seem brighter. Her lips were curved as she carried a tray and placed it on a table that had been set up for him next to the table.

Thomas cringed inwardly at the idea of moving, but at the same time he was tired of being on his back.

Ten days since the attack, his ribs were finally allowing him to sleep through the night. Still sharp pains continuously roused him when he moved the wrong way.

“You look better,” Mary said meeting his gaze. “Your bruising doesn’t seem as bad today.” She studied his face and he looked away, not quite sure how to take her perusal.

Had she always been so beautiful in the morning? How could he not remember? Then again, he’d gone out of his way to avoid her. For the first time in a long time, a woman made him feel alive. Every ounce of his body came to life around her.

Sunlight streamed into the room when she pulled the curtains aside. Then she pushed open the shutters allowing the frigid air in. “I know it’s quite cold, but I am a firm believer in airing out rooms where someone is ill.”

In the new light, he admired the long lines of her neck and deep rich color of her wavy hair. Instead of the usual bun at her nape, today she wore her hair in a looser style. The top pulled back from her face and the rest loose to her shoulders.

“I’ll help you to sit.” She neared and wrapped her arms under his. “Push up.” A floral scent tickled his nose and he realized it was her hair.

Thomas grimaced in pain when she pulled him up to sit. As hard as he tried to keep from it, a groan escaped when she released him, and he fell back against the pillows. “I feel like an old man, barely able to move without hurting.”

“Let’s put this blanket over you to keep the chill away.” Mary lifted the quilt and brought it to the bed, and then spread it over his shoulders. Meeting his gaze, she seemed to assess if he was comfortable. The ever-present soft smile took his attention until he had to drag his gaze away.

“Thank you.”

Mary pulled a chair closer so that she could sit next to the bed to help him eat. “The morning Harold found you, we thought you would not live. You looked to be dying.” She looked away. “That you have pains is not surprising. It could have been a lot worse.”

He almost told her the pains in his abdomen and back were almost horrible enough to make him wish for death. Instead, he took shallow breaths waiting for the pain to subside.

Mary touched his hand. “I remember once this woman was very heavy in her pregnancy had taken a fall. The poor thing, her ribs and back were injured. She had to go through labor, and I cried with her at the horrible pain she endured to bring her child forth.”

His own pains forgotten at thinking of the woman’s predicament; Thomas could not imagine how the woman would have withstood it. “What happened to her?”

Mary lifted the cup to him so he could hold it with both hands and drink. It was a warmed cider that had been sweetened by honey. Hungry, he guzzled it. “Very good.”

“The woman delivered a healthy baby boy,” Mary said taking the cup and placing it on the side table. Since four fingers on his right hand had been broken, he had to use his left hand. He guessed the men had stomped on his hands when he was passed out. Thankfully, other than very sore, his left hand was not as damaged.

She arranged the tray over his lap, and he lifted the spoon awkwardly with his left hand, using his thumb and forefinger.

Mary continued. “As soon as the baby was born she became very ill. Mother wrapped her ribs and saw to her back. It was a long hard time for the young mother, but she did recover.” She watched as Thomas ate for a moment. “It was the first time I’ve ever seen a man taking care of a child alone so well. Her husband was adamant that he’d care for the child while his wife recovered and did an admirable job.”

She chuckled softly. “I am talking your ear off. Tell me. How do you feel today?”

If he were to be honest, he could listen to her talk for hours. Mary had a soothing voice that lulled a listener in.

“Harold is going to help me dress so I can go out to the stables. I cannot take remaining indoors any longer,” Thomas informed her, feeling childish at complaining, but at the same time, it was honestly how he felt.

“I don’t blame you,” Mary said. “If I had to remain indoor for so many days, I would go mad. Let me help you.” Taking the spoon from his hand, she slid it into the porridge and lifted it to his lips.

For some reason her proximity and focus on his mouth seemed intimate. Much more than someone nursing someone who was ill. This was so different, almost sensual.

He could only open his mouth wide enough for the spoon to fit, not entirely in, but far enough that the contents would spill into his mouth.

When her eyes met his for a moment, it was as if all the air left his lungs. Thankfully, she looked back to the bowl to get another spoonful and it gave Thomas time to get his bearings.

Whatever was the matter with him? Then again, it had been a long time since he’d been alone with a woman and one so beautiful. She smelled like a field of flowers that he could lay upon and rest.

“Thomas? What happens?” Mary gave him a quizzical look. “Should I fetch someone?”