Wincing, he turned his head. A pink embroidered pillow blocked his vision. “A smart woman calls no man master.”
He groaned. I’m dead, and this is hell.
“You’re not dead....” Open relief coated the observation.
He turned his head again. Holding a white cloth, Jayne Stoneworthy approached with hands extended.
“Not yet. Of course, whether or not that continues to be the case depends on what other acts of violence you intend to unleash.”
A look of contrition filled her green eyes. “I refuse to feel guilty about hitting you. I had every right to defend myself.”
Someone should warn her to stay away from poker tables. That she obviously did feel some remorse for knocking him unconscious was written plainly across her earnest features.
“What did you use?” He tried to sit up, then fell back against the mattress. An oath hovered behind his clenched lips. He’d wait until he was alone to set it free. “I feel as if I had a run-in with a railroad tie.”
“Actually it was a piece of wood left by one of the workmen.”
“I deserved it,” he admitted grudgingly. “I didn’t have you pegged as the kind of woman who could defend herself if backed into a corner.”
“Well, you were wrong.”
“What’s the cloth for?”
She glanced at her hands. “I was going to wipe away the blood on your forehead and place a cool compress against your wound.”
He pressed his fingertips to his head. They came away sticky and crimson-colored. “You really whacked me.”
She flushed. “You deserved it.”
“We’ve already established that.” He waved her toward him. “Proceed with your ministrations. I’m certainly in need of them.”
Wariness tinged her gaze. “Do you promise to behave yourself?”
Her question startled a laugh from him. He flinched. “Miss Stoneworthy, rest assured you’ve relieved me of the slightest urge to get on your bad side.”
She didn’t draw closer. “You know who I am?”
The answer to that question could wait. He wanted her gentle tending. “My head’s pounding so hard, I’m not sure what I know.”
His words caused her to fly into action. She was at his side, bending over him, lightly dabbing his forehead. He groaned, more from the pleasure of her touch than discomfort. His eyelids lowered. Not only would she make a bad poker player, clearly the woman diligently attending his injury had a soft heart. She would probably give her last nickel to some down-on-his-luck trail bum. Charity and generosity were attributes that might get one to heaven. They were a real liability when running a business.
The cloth grazed a sensitive spot. He grimaced. On the other hand, she did pack a wallop. Maybe there was a future for her in business, after all.
“I’m trying not to hurt you.”
“I’m tough. I can take it.”
Her soothing caress and the fabric’s damp coolness made the pain seem almost worthwhile. How long had it been since he’d shared physical contact with a woman based on receiving innocent comfort?
“You’re being surprisingly...stoic about this.”
He opened one eye. He shouldn’t have been surprised by her closeness. Finding her face within kissing distance, however, shot unwelcome shards of desire through him. The building pressure did nothing to ease the throbbing in his head. He cursed his unexplainable susceptibility to Miss Stoneworthy, wondering if the blow he’d suffered was partly responsible for his uncustomary lack of control. Considering her incendiary effect on him, “stoic” was the last word he would use to describe his reaction.
A myriad of emotions swirled in her gaze. He identified confusion, concern and that ever present look of wariness.
“Considering my behavior, I’m lucky you’re bothering to patch me. up.”
She withdrew the compress. Maybe he shouldn’t have reminded her of what had precipitated her attack. She eased herself from the bed. Only when she moved away did he realize she’d been sitting beside him. As she went to the water basin on the dresser and wrung out the cloth, her straight back, slender waist and the gentle curve of her hips held his fascinated attention.
The scent of sawdust laced with a whiff of lilac water lingered. Sawdust and lilacs... He bit back a cynical laugh. That the hardly exotic combination of fragrances should tie his stomach into knots proved he wasn’t his usual self.
She returned to the bed and sat down, reapplying the folded material to his injury. Now it was her breasts that claimed his attention. Manfully, he tried to ignore their soft presence. She was being excessively kind. He’d deserved the violence she’d wreaked upon him.
She leaned closer. The gray material of her gown outlined twin swells of bliss. He imagined them uncovered, exposed to his hands and mouth. Disgusted by his lustful contemplations, he slammed his eyelids shut and tried to think virtuous thoughts. Not a single noble idea popped into his head. How long had he been on this downward path to hell?
“How do you feel now? Is the pain easing?”
She had to be kidding.
“I’m feeling downright chipper.” Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, he pushed away her hands and sat up. “I think I’ll start every day with a blow to the side of my head.”
“No doubt your surliness is a result of your injury.” She slid away from him and stood. “May I point out that, had you not acted in a most ungentlemanly manner, you would not be suffering at the moment.”
He rose to his feet. The room swayed. Ungentlemanly? He’d been an out-and-out blackguard. He allowed the shuddering waves of pain to roll over him as he adjusted to being vertical. His quick scan of her bedchamber revealed half a dozen rude sayings about the nature of men, ranging from lace-bordered wall hangings to hand-sewn pillows. The one that caught and held his attention was a green satin cushion with gold tassels that read “A prudent woman guards her private furrow, lest she awakes to find it plowed.”
“Miss Stoneworthy, no jury would convict you for hitting me with that plank of wood.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t sure you did.”
“Have I given you cause to think I’m an imbecile?”
Her damnably enchanting chin raised. “No, you’ve only given me cause to believe you’re an unprincipled... lecher.”
Laughing at her prim, disapproving expression wouldn’t help his head. Nor, inexplicably, did he wish to hurt her feelings. Obviously she felt she’d fought off the devil incarnate to preserve her virtue.
“There’s something we need to clear up. I don’t make a habit of visiting brothels, or forcing myself upon unwilling females.”
“This isn’t a brothel.”
“It was, and because of that, it’s never going to be a respectable school for young women. I dropped by this afternoon because Gideon Cade asked me to check on you as a favor to his wife. When I got here, I overheard that miner trying to buy your favors. It was obvious you didn’t understand what a dangerous situation you were in. Had he not accepted your explanation, you could have found yourself upstairs in bed with him.”
“Which is just exactly where I did find myself with you!”
“Because I wanted to show you that you can’t set up housekeeping in a brothel and not suffer the consequences.”
“Stop calling this a brothel. It was a tavern that—”
“Not a tavern,”