“Noble, you’ve been shot!”
His arms were suddenly full of wife, her hands checking over him as he had done moments before to her. “I think it’s just your arm. Oh, my dear sweet Noble, let me help you in. Crouch! Crouch, send someone for a doctor. Dickon, help his lordship up the stairs. Charles, tell the kitchen I will need plenty of hot water. Good lord, Noble, put me down this instant, you’ve been shot and you shouldn’t be straining your wound!”
Noble ignored her orders and carried her up the stairs to her bedchamber, then deposited her on the chaise. “It’s not serious, madam. Tremayne will take care of it for me. Now have your bath and I shall see you as soon as this incident has been dealt with.”
Gillian stared in surprise as her husband stalked out of the room as if nothing untoward had occurred, but soon rallied her wits enough to supervise Tremayne Three and Crouch in the care of Noble’s wound. She was pleased to see that it was minor, just barely penetrating the outer edge of his arm.
“Perhaps you should have a nip, first, my lord,” Tremayne suggested as he held the bottle of brandy preparatory to splashing the contents over the wound.
“Oh, that’s an excellent suggestion, Three,” Gillian agreed.
“No, I don’t need it,” Noble said, narrowing his eyes as his wife leaned over him to gaze at the wound. He had a clear view of her warm, enticing cleavage. He didn’t need brandy. All he needed was her.
“Don’t be foolish, Noble. It’s bound to sting. Go ahead and sluice your gob.”
Noble’s head snapped back in disbelief. He looked closely at Gillian for a moment, then raised a sardonic brow at Crouch.
“Go ahead, m’lord, ’ave yerself a line of the old author,” Crouch said with a weak smile, handing him a dram of brandy. Noble grimaced, muttered something about having a word with Crouch at a later date, and tossed back the fiery liquid.
By the time his wound had been tended to, Gillian felt the situation was well enough in hand for her to have the bath she’d ordered earlier. What had gotten into her Lord of Passion? His actions at the Gayfields’ house, while appreciated and enjoyed despite the unusual circumstances, were bewildering. When Noble had pinned her up against the wall in Lady Gayfield’s bedchamber the last thing she’d been expecting was for him to use that very same wall in a manner that still made her knees weak at the memory. No, she had not expected that; she’d expected Noble to rant and rave about her meeting with Lord Carlisle, and instead he had shared himself with her, giving her pleasure where she had been sure he would be cold and withdrawn.
She sighed over the confusing man she had married and scrubbed at her palms with a piece of pumice. Happily, the blue was almost gone, but it was a reminder of just how her heedless, foolish actions drove Noble to distraction. She sighed again, this time out of sympathy with him. Poor man; first his organs were out of humor and now an unknown villain had shot him. A frown marred her smooth brow for a moment as she contemplated how she could ease his pain, then disappeared as she remembered the fascinating pamphlet she had forced the man to sell her earlier. It was the very thing!
Gillian padded around the room barefoot, gathering the items she would need; then, with her arms full of bottles and pots, she went through the connecting door into Noble’s room.
She could hear his voice rumbling in his dressing room. Setting down her collection of oils and unguents, she stuck her head into the adjoining room.
“Did Tremayne Two catch up with the carriage?”
Noble turned toward her voice, his face black with anger. He stared at her for a moment, his gaze heating her even through her dressing gown. His expression cleared as the anger faded. “No, he did not. The other carriage had too much of an advantage.”
“That’s a shame. Will you be long?”
A curious spasm of emotion flashed across his face as he cleared his throat. “Not long, no.”
Gillian beamed at him. “Excellent. I have a little procedure I’d like to try on you.”
Noble seemed to be having some difficulty swallowing. His hands clenched and unclenched as he cleared his throat again. “I’m sure it will be most appreciated.”
Gillian nodded and withdrew back into his bedchamber. She sat on the bed and reached for the pamphlet, then looked up as Noble shot through the door. He was across the room, his dressing gown removed en route, before her fingers could close around the pamphlet.
“Noble!” she shrieked as he pulled her into a passionate embrace. “My lord, your arm…”
“The merest of flesh wounds, I assure you, my darling,” he said, his lips caressing her temples.
She looked down at that part of him that was pressing against her. “Husband, we couldn’t possibly. You have been injured.”
Noble murmured hot, passionate words in her ear, sending delightful little shivers of pleasure rippling down her spine and forming a hot pool at the very center of her womanhood.
“I have…your organs…celestial…Oils of Araby, Noble…stimulation…”
“Oh, yes, my love, it’s very stimulating. Allow me to show you how very stimulating it can be.”
Gillian, with an effort she didn’t think possible, tore herself from her husband’s arms and seductive, mesmerizing mouth.
“You are wounded, Noble. I cannot allow you to endanger your life by harming that wound.”
Noble smiled at her, a smile that started fires all over her body. God’s elbows, how was she to maintain any sort of control over the situation if her Lord of Smoldering Eyes was going to look at her with an obvious hunger that only she could feed?
She reached behind her and grabbing her pamphlet, holding it in front of his face.
“The Celestial Stimulation of the Organs, Noble. I thought we might, given the circumstances of your injury, use the special Oils of Araby and balmy, ethereal essences to restore your elasticity and good health.”
Noble’s smile increased in intensity, fanning the fire in Gillian’s body into a raging inferno. She reminded herself sternly that he was hurt and knew not what he was doing, what with his being out of his head with pain, and it was up to her to ensure that he did no further damage to himself.
She stepped away from him and waved the pamphlet toward the bed. “If you would lie down, husband, I will prepare the essences. They have to be warmed slightly, so as not to cause a shock to your system when they are administered. Once I have massaged the essences into your flesh, I am to apply the Oils of Araby to ensure that the humors are in balance. At which point—” Gillian consulted the pamphlet. She couldn’t meet that look in his eyes without throwing herself on him. Shameful, that’s what she was, wanton and shameful to think of engaging in such pleasurable activities while her husband was suffering so grievously. “At which point, I am to pay particular attention to those…er…parts of you so as to regain youth and vigor to your bodily endowments.”
Noble suddenly looked interested and reached for the pamphlet. “Bodily endowments? You must pay particular attention to my bodily endowments? It says so?”
“Yes, that is part of the treatment. It’s supposed to purify your blood if I conduct upon your…parts…those exercises shown in the back of the pamphlet.”
“ ‘Imperial Exercises of Eros,’ ” Noble mumbled as he read the title, then turned the page. Gillian thought his eyes were going to pop right out of his head.
She fidgeted with the opening of her dressing gown. “It might be beyond your strength—”
Her words were cut off as Noble, with a move too swift for her eyes to follow, sent her dressing gown flying in one direction while she was tossed in the other, landing in the middle of his bed. He followed directly behind her, pinning her on the bed and holding the pamphlet in front of her.