‘Please do not try to stand, my lady.’ He knelt beside her. ‘I will need to take a look to properly assess the damage first.’ One arm slipped beneath her legs, making her flinch.
He was touching her!
Instinctively, she stiffened and tried to shuffle away. Undeterred, he continued. ‘Place your arms around my shoulders. I promise I won’t drop you.’
Good gracious! He intended to carry her and create even more of a spectacle. ‘I am sure I can manage to hobble to your surgery, Dr Warriner.’ Perhaps then everyone would stop gawping at her when nowadays she preferred to blend in. Except she wouldn’t hobble towards his surgery. She would drag herself back up the lane to the safety of home and never leave it again. Logic could go to hell in a hand cart. She never should have listened to the voice. She never should have come out all alone, but staying home after her sister had claimed a sniffle and remained in bed had felt like defeat. Clarissa had made no secret of the fact she was beyond tired of being her sister’s keeper. Not when it had been over a year and it wasn’t Clarissa’s fault Bella had suffered the incident. Bella had to get over it because it could have been worse.
Worse didn’t bear thinking about. Unfortunately, she thought about it all the time.
The doctor slanted her a superior glance. ‘Hobble, will you? And create more damage for me to fix in the process, no doubt? No, my lady—I will carry you if you don’t mind.’
But she did mind. He was a man and she was now a spectacle. A spectacle who was on the cusp of bursting into tears and apprising everyone of the fact that she was no longer capable of being rational, not quite right in the head any more, yet so desperate to be right again.
You are being ridiculous! Bella scrunched her eyes tightly closed, gripped his shoulders and willed herself lighter in the faint hope it would all be over soon. He hoisted her into the air and began to walk across the square. Less than half a minute later, he gripped her harder still and his breathing became more laboured with exertion. It was then she decided that willing herself lighter was not working in the slightest and began to wish herself invisible instead. Mercifully, he covered the distance to the surgery quickly, and once inside, he deposited her gently on an examination table.
‘I need to fetch some things. I will only be a moment.’
He returned with his housekeeper in tow, no doubt for propriety’s sake. Bella was ridiculously grateful for the woman’s presence and tried to relax.
‘Where does it hurt?’
She touched her left leg in response. ‘My ankle. I was sabotaged by a potato.’ She smiled weakly, praying the fear did not show in her face. Think logically! He was simply doing his job. He had no intention of hurting her. Perhaps if she repeated that mantra, her heartbeat would begin to slow and the tight bands of fear constricting her ribs would loosen.
Bella bit the inside of her cheek as he matter-of-factly lifted the hem of her ruined dress and carefully pushed it to her knee.
He has no intention of hurting you. He is simply doing his job.
To her own ears her breathing was laboured. Dr Warriner appeared to sense her rising panic, although he thought it was caused by pain rather than the acute reminder of another time when a man had lifted her skirts...one filthy hand clasped over her mouth while the other was fumbling with the buttons on his breeches. Touching her.
The unwanted memory made her whimper.
‘Breathe slowly and deeply. That will help.’
She did as he suggested, her eyes never leaving his hands.
He has no intention of hurting you.
His gentle touch around the bones of her ankle did not feel like the worst sort of violation.
He is simply doing his job.
He was a doctor. A man of science. He had the deepest blue eyes Bella had ever seen. Bluer even than Clarissa’s. They were kind eyes, she realised.
Patient.
The voice deep inside of her soothed that she could trust him and she forced herself to believe it.
Slowly, and with surprising tenderness, he removed her half-boot and gently examined the swelling around her ankle. His dark brows were drawn together slightly. He had a good nose, Bella mused to avoid thinking about the past, neither too small nor too large, and a strong chin that was already showing evidence of a very dark beard, even though he had clearly shaved it this morning. His black hair curled slightly at the snowy-white collar of his shirt and fell softly forward over one side of his brow in a slightly boyish manner. The natural style reminded her that the good doctor was not one for pomades or unnecessary frills like the dandies in town. She liked that about him.
Not that he needed them. He was incredibly handsome. Bella had surprised herself by thinking it the first time she had seen him at the local assembly, because it had been over a year since she had thought such things about a man. She had never seen him wear anything other than stark, dark black or navy blue, and although he was always smartly turned out, his attire gave off the air of a man both comfortable in his own skin and far too busy with important things to pay much attention to his wardrobe. He was a true man of science and it showed.
He had handsome hands, too, if indeed hands could be described as such. Clean, sensibly trimmed fingernails, but capable. So very different to the hands of that scoundrel. Healer’s hands. Just like hers.
She found herself scrutinising his technique as the panic began to wane. After all, he had been properly schooled in the precise art of medicine whilst all her knowledge had come from whatever books she could find. Those books were no substitute for practical experience.
‘Mrs Patterson, would you mind...’ His words trailed off and he wore an odd expression as he gestured to his housekeeper to remove the stocking on Bella’s left leg. Feeling horribly exposed and conscious she had been intently staring at him, she lay back on the bed and fixed her gaze on the ceiling as his large hands meticulously prodded and probed her foot, calf and ankle.
He is simply doing his job. Stop being a pathetic coward. It’s irritating. You’re irritating. Be logical.
Once she had succumbed to the inevitability of her situation, and repeated her new mantra another dozen times silently in her head, it turned out not to be such an unpleasant experience. He had lovely warm palms and his deft touch left a trail of tingles on her skin which caused havoc with her pulse. Bizarrely, it had nothing to do with fear or panic. Bella knew those emotions too well and this was nothing like them. How peculiar.
His fingers suddenly left her skin and the real her willed them back. In fact, the real her was positively swooning. ‘The good news is that it is not broken.’ Bella watched those capable hands as he absently returned her skirts to order. He had obviously touched a significant number of ladies’ legs on a regular basis, she concluded, because he looked decidedly nonplussed with hers. ‘But it is badly sprained and bruised, so you will have to keep your weight off it for a few days.’ He smiled his detached doctor smile and spoke quickly to his housekeeper.
‘Mrs Patterson—could you fetch some ice and some towels, please?’
They would be alone! She missed the end of the conversation due to the hammering panic in her head and the older woman left to do his bidding. Bella levered herself to sit, just in case she needed to run, wincing as cuts on her hands protested at being used to lever her.
‘Let me see.’ He said this in a reassuringly detached and professional way as he took both her hands in his. Instantly, her silly pulse leapt even as she froze, then continued to bounce around frenetically as he turned them palms up to examine