Taming Talia (14 page)

He reached across and stroked the back of her hand. “It’s very likely she made it home in time. You’ll see.” More words of false hope, but hope was all he had to offer.

“I hope you’re right.” She reached for a piece of toast and spread a dab of preserves over it. She took one bite; then, like an uneasy grasshopper, she sprang from her chair.

“What is it?”

“Your leg. I’ll pack your leg with snow now. I don’t want to wait. There’s some oilcloth stored in the pantry I can use.”

“Please. Sit down and eat. My let’s not hurting…as long as I don’t move.” Not close to the truth. It throbbed and ached like it was caught in a vise. But Talia needed to eat and keep up her strength.

“Are you sure?” she asked, hesitating.

“I’m sure.”

Talia picked up a strip of bacon and used it to point at him. “I hope you realize you’re not going back outside.
I’ll
feed the horses and do the rest of the morning chores.”

“No, you won’t.” Damn. “I can manage with something like a cane. Or maybe I can fashion a crutch from something I find in the stable.”

She shook her head. “Not necessary. Reginald had several canes. He thought they made him look important.” She rolled her eyes, then continued, “One of them should help you, at least move around in the house.”

He chewed on a second piece of bacon. No point in arguing when her mood was volatile. Sitting around like an invalid while she did a man’s work wasn’t in his nature. Damn it. He’d taken her husband’s clothes. Taken his place at the head of the table. Not the least of all, taken his place in Talia’s bed. And none of it planned.

Without warning, the muscles in his injured leg spasmed, causing him to start and grimace with pain.

“What?” She jumped up. “You
are
in pain. I shouldn’t have let you stop me—”

“Just a muscle spasm. Relax. It’s over.” Almost.

“How did they treat your brother’s broken leg?”

Jared frowned. “He lay around for a couple of days with his leg elevated on pillows, an ice pack and a compression bandage.”

“I knew it. As soon as you finish eating, you’re going to bed, and you’re going to allow me to take care of you. You wouldn’t have been injured if not for helping me.”

“You’ll be sorry. I’m not as good a patient was my brother was.” Another lie. His brother Garth had been a real bastard when he’d been injured. Jared had been his brother’s servant for the duration of his injury, and his brother had taken full advantage.
“More ice. Move my leg. Rewrap the bandage. Get my crutch.”

“I don’t expect you to be a good patient. But I do expect you to follow my orders to the letter.”

“That remains to be seen. I’m no good at following orders, not even those of someone as beautiful as you.”

A quick smile flashed across her face, but there remained a cloud of anger hovering in her expression. Couldn’t blame her. Here she was in a freakish snowstorm, saddled with an invalid. He’d be put out too.

“Pretty words won’t keep me from restraining you in bed.”

“Restraints?” The image of being tied to her bed made him think of tying
her
down and making love all night. But for now that particular activity would have to wait.

“What’s so amusing?”

“Nothing. Just a random thought.”

A spark of humor lit her eyes, and a half smile lifted one corner of her mouth, showing her dimple. “You’re in no shape to be having random thoughts at all, especially those.”

“No need to remind me.”

“Good. Are you finished?” She glanced at his empty plate. “Do you want more?”

“There’s a lot I want.”

“To eat,” she said with steel in her voice.

“No, ma’am. I’ve had enough.”

“Then to bed with you. I don’t believe you are so arrogant as to believe you can do without medical care. You could lose your leg.”

“I’m not going to lose my damned leg.”

“
Señor
Fields, your language—”

“Talia, we are so far beyond quibbling over my language.”

“We are not in the bedroom, sir.” She drew her body into a rigid stance, her nose in the air. “I won’t stand for bad language, neither in my drawing room nor in my kitchen.”

“You have any idea how beautiful you are when you get all huffy?”

“Enough! Off to bed.” She stood with her hands on her hips. “I’ll tear sheets to bandage your leg, and then I’ll pack it with snow. Or
maybe
I should locate a saw and remedy the situation entirely.”

“A saw?” He shoved his plate away and stood on his good foot. “Where’s that cane, or will you let me put my arm around you again?”

“I’ll fetch a cane.” She paused. “But if you feel you need additional support, I’d be a poor hostess to refuse assistance.”

“Great. Now you’ve gone from being a delightful woman to an uptight society dame. In case you’re interested, I’d prefer Talia to the stuffy Mrs. Montrose. Please, ma’am. May Talia come out and play?”

She let out an exasperated huff and fled the kitchen.

Whatever had gotten Talia’s knickers in a twist? Perhaps his brief inspection of her financial ledgers had upset her more than she’d let on. Maybe she
was
hiding something. But what? More than likely that was the true reason for her underlying irritation than any inconvenience his accident caused.

Talia returned quickly, brandishing a black cane topped with a gold serpent’s head. “Here. This one should suit you quite well,” she said with a fixed smile and eyes as black as the cane’s ebony wood.

Thankful she didn’t hit him over the head with it. He accepted the cane with a polite nod. Might as well address the situation now. “Talia, I’m sorry.”

She shot him a calculating glance. “Whatever do you have to be sorry about?”

“For invading your privacy this morning. I know you’re still angry. And for my clumsiness. As soon as the weather abates, I promise I’ll get out of your hair.”

He shifted the cane to his left hand and took a step. Pain shot from his right calf to his knee. He gasped. “Damn.”

Talia rushed to his side. “Hold on to me.”

He shook his head and brushed her away. “I can make it, now that I know what to expect.” Carefully, he took another step. The pain was the same, but he clenched his teeth and continued in his halting fashion.

Somewhere behind him, Talia was muttering, “Stubborn ass.”

Glad she couldn’t see his face, he smiled. “Mrs. Montrose—your language.”

“If you weren’t already injured, I’d kick you.”

“Then I shall be ever grateful for your cow’s excitable nature.”

Another huff. She sped around him and opened the door to
her
bedchamber. All was not lost.

As if she’d read his mind, she said, “Don’t think just because you’ll be in my bedroom that anything is going to happen. It’ll just be easier to care for you if we’re in the same—”

“I understand completely and appreciate your concern.” He almost said,
my lady
. Likely that would’ve angered her further.

“After you’re settled, I’ll add some wood to the fire,” she said. She scurried over to the far side of the bed and began straightening the linens in quick, jerky movements. “Would you prefer the bed or maybe the chaise for now?”

“The chaise.” He hobbled over to the chair and stretched out, unable to keep from groaning.

Wrinkling her nose, she leaned over his foot and propped it on pillows she took from the bed. “You need to come out of those clothes. I must see to your leg. Besides, they smell of manure.”

“You’d smell of manure too, if you’d had to crawl—”

“No doubt,” she said with a slight smile, cutting off his litany of excuses.

“If you’ll leave me something to change into, I can get these off. You can go on and do whatever you need to do.” He waved her away. Last thing he needed was her hovering over him like he was an infant. “Just go on.”

“Call me.”

He waited until she closed the door to remove his shirt. Talia was right. It was overripe with manure and sweat. What he wouldn’t give for a hot bath. He unbuckled his belt, then unbuttoned the denim trousers. Working them down over his butt was no easy feat, but he managed. He extricated his good leg, then, groaning, he worked the trousers down over his bad leg using his left foot.

He gasped with relief when the denim trousers hit the floor. Mouth dry, he swallowed, then glanced at his right leg. His calf was bruised and swollen, more on the outer aspect than the inner. Carefully, he touched the area and winced. Thankfully, the heavy creature’s hoof had stepped on him with more of a glancing blow than a direct step.

Even so, it throbbed like a son of a bitch. No doubt about it. In spite of the pain, his biggest regret was that the injury would hamper his investigation.

Natalia hesitated a moment and set two logs on the floor beside her. Trying not to think about the ordeals to come, she tapped on the door, then opened it. Jared was bare from the waist up. Again, she couldn’t help but admire his lean-muscled body and remember how he’d felt under her touch.
Dios
. She shook her head. How he looked and felt weren’t important. At least he’d managed to rid himself of his smelly outer garments. All things considered, she probably didn’t smell much better, but at least she hadn’t crawled around on the stable floor.

She picked up the logs and carried them inside. Kneeling by the fire, she added one of the logs and said, “We’ll keep the fire going in this room to keep you from getting chilled.” She got to her feet, picked up his discarded clothes and, holding them away from her body, took them from the room. Not having any way to wash them, she’d just toss them out the back door and dispose of them the next time she went out to the stable.

She gathered up the strips of linen she’d torn while he undressed and carried them back to her bedroom.

His expression brightened when she entered the room, and made her heart beat faster. Hold on. Under no circumstances would she let him affect her so. The man was a Pinkerton agent and here to ruin her life.

But for now, there was his injury to deal with. “All right, let me see what you’ve done.”

“Pretty much what I thought—the small bone is the one broken. Got off lucky.”

She nodded, taking in the discoloration and swelling. “
Sí
, it could have been much worse.”

“I’ll take it easy today,” he said, shrugging his wide, muscular shoulders. “But my brother was up and around in a couple of days, or he would’ve been if he hadn’t decided to make my life a living hell.”

“Well, you
did
break his leg.”

“I did at that,” he said with a wry, almost boyish smile.

Tilting her head to the side, she gazed down at his leg. “I guess I’d better wrap your leg now.”

He nodded, his features contorted as if dreading the pain to come. “Make it tight. Start from the foot. Loop it around a couple of times in a figure eight.”

She smiled, hesitating to admit her uncertainty. “I’ve never actually done this before. Sarita always took care of it. I wish I’d paid more attention.”

“You can do it. I used to rewrap my brother’s leg, and I was just a lad.”

“That was very nice of you—”

“Yeah,” he interrupted with a bark of laughter. “All things considered.”

All right. If Jared could do it when a lad, then she, a mature woman, could as well. Chewing on her bottom lip, she looped one of the linen strips around his foot, then up around his ankle and back around his foot again.

“Once more,” he said. “Make sure the end is caught by the second wrapping.”

Nodding, she did as he suggested, then began wrapping upward from his ankle.

“Tighter.”

She tugged on the linen, overlapping each edge with the next wrap. “Sorry. I know I’m hurting you.”

Pale-faced, hands clenched, and gritting his teeth, Jared grew rigid the closer she came to his calf. “Just hurry up.”

“You need to hold it up and support it while I get the linen around the back of your calf.”

Jared raised his right leg, supporting it with both hands while she quickly wrapped the rest of his lower leg. “Tight enough?”

“Any tighter and you might as well cut it off.” His face grew red, and his leg trembled with the effort of holding it up. “You know, a shot or two of whiskey wouldn’t be taken amiss.”

“Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?” After securing the top of the linen wrap, she gently removed his hands, substituting her own, and carefully rested his leg back down on the pillows.

“I’ll be right back.”

In all honesty, it was difficult to remain angry when he was in so much pain and needed her so badly. Reginald had never needed her. No one had.

Chapter Twelve

Stranded by a freak snowstorm. Hampered by an untimely accident. Dependent on the good graces of the woman he was assigned to investigate. Not to mention mesmerized by the woman’s beauty and passion. Was there a worse way to end his career as a Pinkerton agent? If there was, he couldn’t imagine it.