In Love With a Wicked Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

betrothal that had followed—had been a debacle of epic proportions. Kate had fled back to the isolation of Bellecombe with her tail between her legs, and lost herself in learning to manage the estate. No, despite her occasional jest to Mrs. Peppin, the luxury of possessing virginal sensibilities was not Kate’s lot in life.
    After tugging off his tall riding boots, they set about drawing off the man’s coat. His elegant cravat having been whipped off by the roadside to wrap his head wound, Mrs. Peppin’s capable fingers began instead with the buttons of his brocade waistcoat.
    “Lawk, miss, did ever ye see such fine stitching!” the housekeeper declared, fingering the silk lining.
    Kate lifted her gaze from the sleeve she was wrestling. The waistcoat looked more expensive than anything even her dandified brother had worn, while at the same time utterly understated. “Savile Row,” she murmured, “or something near it. Here, help me lift him.”
    The man was solidly built, but little by little his outer garments were tugged, pushed, and peeled off, then laid aside for brushing. Mrs. Peppin folded his waistcoat and set his pocket watch on the night table by the basin.
    Then, as if reconsidering it, she picked the watch back up, and flipped open the cover. Her worn blue eyes flicked over it, then sharpened.
    “Engraved?” asked Kate.
    “Aye.” The housekeeper turned it around. “ To Edward with love ,” she said, “ from Aunt Isabel .”
    “To Edward.” She leaned across to examine it. “The initials on his bag are not quite decipherable, but the first three are clearly N.E.D. Well done, Peppie. It seems at least one of our patient’s names is Edward.”
    “Well, let us pray he’ll live to see his poor auntie again.” Mrs. Peppin seemed touched by the notion that such a tall, strapping man might have someone to mourn him.
    Kate turned her attention to the man’s shirt. “This is ruined with blood,” she said ruefully. “I’d better just cut it off.”
    After fetching scissors from her sewing basket, Kate tugged the man’s shirttails from his trousers, the fabric still warm. That was good, she reassured herself. Warm was good. But that rising warmth merely served to carry the man’s tantalizing scent, a faintly woody aroma that reminded her of chestnut and fresh citrus. And man . Yes, for all his infirmity, their patient still smelled very much—and very temptingly—like a man.
    A little irritated with such fancies, Kate seized his shirt and slit it stem to stern with her scissors. The fine lawn fell away to reveal a smooth, broad chest literally layered with muscles.
    “Lawk, look at that!” Mrs. Peppin whispered. “I’d have wagered the fellow never did a day’s work in his life.”
    Perhaps not, Kate ruefully considered. But he’d certainly been doing something . “I daresay he boxes,” she murmured. “Many wealthy men seem to have a proclivity for that brutal sport.”
    But on her next breath she saw the ugly white pucker of flesh alongside his rib cage. Mrs. Peppin lightly touched it. “Poor love,” she said. “Looks to be a knife wound. Could he be a military fellow?”
    But at that very moment, a faint sound escaped his lips, no more than an exhalation, really. Kate set away the scissors with a hasty clatter. “Edward?” she said urgently, leaning over him. “Edward, can you hear us?”
    His eyes flicked back and forth beneath his lids, and he seemed to give an odd sort of shudder. On impulse, Kate seized his hand. “Edward, you’re at Bellecombe Castle,” she said a little loudly, “in Somerset. Can you hear me?”
    But the man’s eyes had stilled, and his hand went limp in hers. She held it thus for some minutes, but he did not stir again. A cold fear settling over her, Kate laid it down, his ring winking blue fire in the afternoon sunlight.
    He is not Stephen , she told herself again. He will not die. I shan’t permit it.
    After a time, they set about drawing off the