Make Me Love You (22 page)

She tsked. “You need to make up your mind, Wolf, whether we’re going to be friends or not. At least stop being so wishy-washy about it.” Glancing at Alfreda again, Brooke sighed. “The other wolf is still determined to push me out the door.”

“But are you still determined to change his mind about you?”

“I’m running out of ways to do that. Not one thank-you have we gotten for helping with his wound, though he did acknowledge that he’s better because of it. Even so, he doesn’t trust my motives. It’s almost as if he overheard that last conversation I had with my brother.”

“What conversation?”

Brooke looked over her shoulder and saw that Dominic had come up behind them. She felt like groaning but realized he probably hadn’t heard that much of what she’d been saying. “It was nothing. My brother was being his usual nasty self—sort of like you,” she added, and marched ahead, pulling Alfreda with her.

Thinking of a hot bath and carrots, Brooke passed through the kitchen to order hot water and grab a carrot to take upstairs for the next time she saw the household pet. She supposed she should check on Dominic’s wound before she got too comfortable in her tub. If he was going to go to his room. He might be going to someone else’s room. He seemed quite healthy—thanks to her. If he was favoring his wounded leg at all, she hadn’t noticed.

She washed her face, hands, and arms and quickly changed clothes, but one question was on her mind that she needed to ask before she did anything else. “Did
she
leave?”

“The ex-mistress? At dawn,” Alfreda replied.

“Ex?”

“According to the staff.”

A bit too friendly for exes, Brooke huffed to herself, but when she put on a new pair of shoes, Alfreda protested that Brooke wasn’t waiting for the bathwater.

“I’m just going to make sure the wolf didn’t make his injury worse by rescuing me.”

“Definitely more kindly—”

“Stop.” Brooke rolled her eyes. “I could have survived the night and found my own way home this morning.”

“Intentions speak for themselves. He made sure you got home safely.”

And might have injured himself doing it, so Brooke wasn’t going to argue about it. Alfreda didn’t need to know what else had happened in that ruined-castle cubbyhole. If she were more optimistic, she might think Dominic’s kisses were a promising sign, a step toward breaking down his defenses—and animosity. But not after the excuse he’d used! Yet one thing she’d been trying not to think about was seeing him unclothed in his bed again and touching him in an intimate way, even if only to treat his wound, after they’d practically slept in each other’s arms last night and he’d given her those ardent kisses this morning. . . .

She flushed, thinking of it anyway, and turned away so Alfreda wouldn’t notice. Seeing the carrot on the bed, she put it in her pocket.

Alfreda noticed that. “Your breakfast will arrive with the bathwater. Are you too hungry to wait?”

“This is for his dog.”

The maid snorted. “That mutt will laugh at you. Dogs only like meat.”

Brooke made a face as she left the room. Likely an accurate statement, but she hoped not. She’d feel bad if she’d left the white dog a carrot it didn’t want. The sack she’d emptied for it hadn’t held much meat. Maybe she could take some meat to the dog the next time she rode out. She owed it something for helping her last night.

A different footman opened Dominic’s door when she knocked, but he was on his way out and closed it behind her.
As usual, Dominic’s eyes were on her before she glanced his way. He was sitting on the edge of his bed unbuttoning his shirt. He’d already put on those altered trousers again, though it didn’t look as if he’d unwrapped the wound yet to check it.

“Don’t worry”—she moved toward his bed—“I know you’ve already seen quite enough of me for one day.” And night. “I just want to check—”

“You prattle too much,
Doctor,
” he said sarcastically. “Do what you will, then go.”

She gritted her teeth until she realized he was probably in pain again. Pain and testiness seemed to go hand in hand for him.

“If you wouldn’t mind?” she said neutrally, indicating his bandage.

“You may.”

He’d always unwrapped the bandage himself—until now. Contrariness just got added to the mix. And he was pretty much sitting on the bandage. How was she supposed to unwrap it?

That question was answered when he stood up on his right foot, putting no weight on his injured leg. She quickly bent down and unwrapped the cloth before he changed his mind and made the task more difficult for her. The bandage only stuck a tiny bit to the wound before the last strip fell away.

After examining the wound and the stitches, she was pleased. “Good. There’s no redness or swelling. It appears that last night’s adventure didn’t hurt you.”

“That’s debatable. My shoulder is extremely sore from sleeping on the stone floor.”

Brooke ignored that. “Unless you’re going to dress again, you can leave the bandage off. The air will allow the scab to harden.”

She stood and picked up the red pouch of herbs she’d left on his night table and put it in her pocket. He no longer needed it. Then she picked up the blue pouch.

“I advise you to still rest your wounded leg a few hours each day.” She handed him the blue pouch. “And you can sprinkle these ground herbs over the scab when you do. They will help you mend more quickly. If you’re going to dress in your normal trousers, though, you should bandage the area first. And don’t submerge your wound in bathwater just yet. Partial baths will do.”

“You’re implying I stink again?”

He didn’t. She knew because she’d spent the night beside him. To avoid an argument she decided not to say another word. She turned, about to leave.

“You can do it.”

She glanced back to see him sitting on the edge of the bed again and shrugging out of his shirt. “Do what?”

“Bathe me.”

She turned around slowly. Color was already brightening her cheeks, but she managed to say, “No, I—I’m afraid my benevolence doesn’t extend that far—unless, of course, you are prepared to marry me today?”

She thought that would settle the matter nicely until he replied, “You have wormed your way into my bedroom repeatedly with the excuse that it’s already your duty to assist me. So you can’t quibble over what sort of assistance your duty entails.”

She could, but she had a feeling it wouldn’t matter. He was making another of his points, showing her how much she would dislike living with him, reminding her that he’d always make some sort of unpleasant demand designed to embarrass her.

He took it for granted that she would comply, telling Carl, “Bring me a basin of water and a washing cloth.”

Brooke’s mind raced as she tried to think of a way to put off an uncomfortable situation. “You don’t want the water heated?”

“Not necessary. Carl always keeps a small pail of water warming in the fireplace in the bathing room so I don’t have to wait for hot water.”

Well then. How difficult would it be to rub a wet cloth over him?
Very difficult.
She groaned inwardly. But she needed to show him that his tactics were not going to work.
So be pleasant, as a wife would be,
she told herself.

When Carl walked away after setting the bowl of water on the night table, she wrung out the cloth. At least Dominic was still sitting on the side of the bed so she had easy access to him. But when she stood in front of him, cloth in hand, she was arrested by his eyes. He had such a piercing gaze, as if he were trying to see into her mind, or trying to gauge her reaction to this forced intimacy. He’d tried so many different ways to make her go. Did he really think she would find this chore so odious if she were his wife? She had a feeling that she wouldn’t mind it, and that made her blush. She wasn’t his wife yet.

She ran the cloth over his face first, slowly, carefully. She tried to ignore how incredibly handsome he was, but couldn’t. He had such strong features, chin, nose, the wide brow. Two locks of hair fell on either side of it, too short for his queue. It was like touching strands of silk when she lifted them out of the way.

When she felt the thick morning stubble on his cheeks, she realized the cloth might be too thin. Trying to clean his ears wasn’t a good idea, though, because she saw the gooseflesh on his neck. She quickly switched to his shoulder.

“That’s the one that aches from sleeping on that hard floor last night.” He added softly, “Massage it for me.”

She stopped moving her hand, she stopped breathing. Her heart was pounding. If she looked into his eyes, she was sure she would melt on the spot. Yet she had to massage him before he brought up her duty again. The only way she managed it was to imagine it wasn’t his shoulder she was kneading with her fingers, so she looked over his shoulder at the bedroom wall. Then she heard his groan of pleasure.

Utterly undone, she quickly grabbed the cloth again and moved it down his arm. If he asked her to massage him again, she’d throw the cloth at him. Holding his hand in hers, she wiped each finger. She was concentrating so hard on the task she didn’t notice right away that his hands weren’t dirty. He’d already washed them?

Her eyes went back to his. He could wash the rest of his body himself, too. He could do this so much more easily and quickly than she could.

As she started to say so, his hand twisted around hers and pulled her forward, nearly to his chest. “Remember your duty, soon-to-be-wife. This isn’t a matter of necessity, it’s a matter of choice. Mine. Continue.”

He’d read her thoughts! Hot cheeked, she stepped back to wring out the cloth again, then applied it to his chest. Not softly, but angrily, and for longer than necessary, though that might have been because she got so distracted by how big and broad his chest was and how hard and well muscled his abdomen was. But when she saw how red she was leaving his skin, she stopped abruptly. He hadn’t said a word of protest.

Contrite, she decided to finish as quickly as she could and
get out of there. But when she leaned around him to reach his back, her breast brushed against his upper arm, and she felt the same wonderful sensations she’d experienced that morning when he’d brushed his palm against her nipple.
Oh, God.

She quickly backed away to rinse the cloth out again, then climbed onto the bed and moved behind him to wash his back. More gooseflesh appeared on his skin as she washed the back of his neck. His neck and ears were sensitive. Something a wife might want to remember for future reference. Brooke tried to forget it. His dog helped her to do that by jumping up on the bed and watching her. Considering the animal’s odd behavior recently, he made her a little nervous now.

Running the cloth over Dominic’s back much more gently because his eyes weren’t on her now, she decided to get into the spirit of being a dutiful fiancée and massaged his shoulder a little more. She might as well try anything and everything to get him to love her.

But Wolf had distracted him and he leaned over to pet the dog’s flank, prompting her to remark casually, “You say he’s not a wolf, but one of his ancestors might have been.”

“Possibly. But it doesn’t matter. He’s quite tame.”

Dominic wasn’t, but she persisted, “I know wolves are supposed to be extinct on the isle, but how do we know they were all killed off?”

“Because it was inevitable once kings started placing bounties on them instead of just demanding their pelts as tribute. They’ve been gone for centuries, but the lands in the north are extensive and wide stretches are uninhabited. I suppose it’s possible a few packs might have survived, but I’m doubtful.”

She had expected him to scoff at her as he had done the last
time this subject came up, not support her contention that his dog’s wolf ancestors might have roamed the Yorkshire moors more recently than centuries ago.

But then he said, “If you’d stop looking at Wolf like he’s more wolf than dog, you might not fear him or believe that rumor about a wolflike creature howling on the moors.”

The color returned to her cheeks. “Nonsense,” she insisted. “Wolf and I are great friends already, though he does get upset when he smells Raston on my hands.”

“Raston?”

“Alfreda’s cat that’s been catching mice for your head groom in the stable.”

“Cats have their uses. Did you think I would object to your bringing one with you?”

“You object to everything about my presence here, M’lord Wolfe.”

If she thought that would be a good time for him to deny it, she was mistaken. As long as he couldn’t see what she was doing behind him, she reached in her pocket for the carrot and handed it to the dog. He took it and jumped off the other side of the bed and immediately started making crunching noises.

She grinned and was still grinning when Dominic said, “What’s he chewing on? If he’s got hold of another one of my boots—”

“It’s just a carrot. You didn’t know he likes them?”

“So that’s how you made friends with him?”

“No, I only found that out just now.”

“And why did you have a carrot to give him? For your horse? You are
not
riding off on your own again. You’ll take a groom with you henceforth.”

“Certainly. And I wasn’t—”

She paused when she heard the door to his room open and two servants came in carrying buckets of water. She threw the cloth in her hand at Dominic’s back before she shot off the bed and straight for the door.

“Do
not
get your wound wet when you take the bath you
ordered,
” she hissed on the way out the door.

She heard a laugh behind her. He actually laughed!

Beyond despicable. He was positively wicked.