Untouched (20 page)

stomach still cramped with horror.

“You broke my bloody back,” Filey whined, darting a worried eye at the dog.

“Unfortunately, I doubt it,” Matthew snapped in his best Lord Sheene manner. “Get out of my sight before I reconsider

letting you live.”

“Aye, my lord.” Filey edged away from Wolfram. “Very good, my lord.”

“Wolfram, chase,” Matthew said softly.

The dog bounded after Filey, forcing him into a shambling run. “Bloody hell! Call off your mongrel! Shit! Get away from

me, you mangy bugger! Leave off!”

Matthew placed one arm around Grace as the ungainly pursuit continued through the trees. She leaned gratefully into his

strength. Her legs felt like they were made of watery custard.

“Will Wolfram hurt him?” Grace asked shakily when Filey’s groans had faded to a distant echo. Talking tested her split

lip. Her jaw throbbed where Filey had punched her.

“Not unless I tell him to,” Matthew said grimly. He flung away the log with a disgusted gesture and tore off his coat to

wrap it around her. She appreciated the warmth. She was deathly cold.

She grabbed Matthew’s arm, using her other hand to preserve what modesty she could. Silly, she knew, when he’d seen

every inch of her, kissed every inch of her. But after Filey’s depredations, she craved the frail armor of clothing as much

for her soul as for her body.

“Christ, Grace. Look at you.” His expression was savage as he studied her injured face. He wrenched a handkerchief

from his pocket and dabbed at her oozing lip. “I should have killed the bastard when I had the chance.”

She winced and spoke through chattering teeth. “Thank God you arrived. I thought he was going to…He was going to…”

Her voice faltered into silence. Ugly gulping sobs tore at her throat.

“Shh, it’s all right.” Very carefully, his arms encircled her, surrounding her with heat and his familiar scent.

Eventually, she raised tear-drenched eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Let’s get you back to the cottage.” With the easy strength that always surprised her in such a lean man, he swung her

into his arms.

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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“I can walk.” She wasn’t sure that was true.

“I’ll carry you.”

She didn’t have it in her to argue, so she rested her pounding head on his shoulder. “You make me feel safe.”

“I shouldn’t,” he said flatly, striding along the path.

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened.”

“I blame my uncle.” Then he added a bleak rider, “And yes, I blame myself.”

His arms tensed and she flinched. Every inch of her hurt worse as danger receded and her body reacted to the beating.

She tightened her hold around his neck. The brush of silky dark hair against her fingers was strangely comforting.

“I thought you were with your roses.”

“I missed you,” he said softly.

“If you hadn’t come…” she said brokenly, hugging him closer.

“I did.”

“Yes.”

He was her rock. He was her surety. He was her beloved.

All they had in this terrible wilderness was each other. God help them.

Matthew eased Grace onto the sofa. She stiffened when he put her down, even though he was careful not to jar or jolt her.

Her battered face already started to swell and discolor.

Jesus, he should have killed Filey. Now he must await another opportunity.

That opportunity would come soon enough.

First, he must ensure Grace’s security. Until then, he could do nothing to pursue long-overdue justice.

“I’ll get something to make you feel better,” he said when she seemed reluctant to release him. She wasn’t a clingy

woman but this afternoon’s ordeal had tested her limits.

“All right.” Her hands slid down to tug nervously at his coat, drawing the edges together to hide the white lushness of her

breasts. The breasts Filey had mauled. Matthew bit back another surge of anger. Filey had trespassed fatally this

afternoon. There would be a reckoning before this sweet spring turned into full summer.

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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“I won’t be long.” He leaned forward and kissed her mercifully unbruised forehead.

He headed into the kitchen to heat some water. Then he gathered what he needed from the shelves in the garden room. He

didn’t want to leave her alone long. He hadn’t missed the flash of panic in her lovely eyes when he’d told her he was

going, even if only into the next room.

Grace was sitting up, still clutching at the ruined gown under his coat, when he returned. No disguising her relief when he

appeared in the doorway.

He laid out his supplies on a small table. He was deliberately methodical. It helped soothe the raging beast within that

yowled to smash and rampage. “Tell me where you hurt.”

“Everywhere.” She tried to smile, but her swollen lip defeated her.

She was so brave, it cut him to the heart. Concern for her swamped even his titanic rage, although rage seethed, ready to

ignite at the first spark.

He knelt beside the couch for better access. Tenderly, he smoothed bedraggled hair from her brow. “Filey didn’t get what

he wanted. And he won’t. You have my word.”

Her eyes were wide with dread. “Your uncle may retaliate.”

“My uncle doesn’t hold all the trumps in this game,” he said with calm certainty. “You’re safe.”

After a long pause, she nodded.

He sucked in a relieved breath and gently pulled his coat from her shoulders. He bent to slide her slippers from her feet

then roll down her tattered stockings. Finally, he unhooked the rigid fingers that curled into her bodice.

“Let me see, Grace,” he murmured when she didn’t immediately relinquish her deathly grip.

“No.” She pressed against the back of the sofa.

Oh, God, she was frightened. Of him.

Filey would rot in hell.

“I’d never hurt you, Grace. You know that,” Matthew said in the crooning voice he used when he treated an injured bird

or animal. “You’re safe with me.”

Some of the tension drained from her face. Or what he could see of her face under the bruises. She relaxed her hold and

the dirty yellow dress fell away. As he brushed the fabric aside, she whimpered and hunched her slender shoulders.

What was she hiding? He shifted to see but she wrapped her arms across her chest in a protective gesture.

“Grace?” he asked softly, carefully parting her entwined arms.

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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

Then he saw her naked breast.

Filey’s teeth marks stood out clearly, rimmed in purple and grazed red where he’d broken the skin.

Apart from that foul bite, bruises covered the pale skin on chest and ribs. The violence Matthew struggled to control

swelled to choke him.

“Christ,” he breathed, balling his fists.

Shame reddened her cheeks. “I couldn’t stop him.”

“No, but I will,” he grated out, unable to tear his eyes from the signs of Filey’s abuse.

She must have read murder in his face because she stretched out a shaking hand to clasp his wrist. “It’s too late.”

“Jesus, how can you say that?” Taking a deep breath to calm the crashing thunder in his blood, he slid her long sleeves

down. Her arms were bruised and finger marks circled her wrists, mute testimony to how roughly Filey had handled her.

The demon inside him jerked at its leash.

“I’m sorry, my darling.” He noticed how she flinched with each movement. “You’ll feel better out of this dress.”

Surprisingly, her mouth quirked in a shadow of her usual smile. “I’m sure you’re not the first young man to use that line.”

He forced a smile although her courage made him want to weep. In his heart, he howled for Filey’s blood. With the

scissors he’d brought from the kitchen, he cut her skirt away. Then he removed the tattered drawers and corset and shift.

How it pained him to hurt her, but he couldn’t help it. When she was naked, he let down her tangled hair and combed it

with his hands so it fell loosely around her shoulders. Through the silky black tresses, her white skin shone like a pearl,

where the bruises and abrasions didn’t disfigure her.

He drew a rug over her then left briefly to collect a bowl of warm water from the kitchen. “I’ll help you sit up,” he said

when he came back.

When she was upright, he wet a cloth and very, very carefully bathed her. Her body was slim and graceful in the late

afternoon light. But as he traced each perfect curve, stroked each hollow, he didn’t think about sex. Instead, a vast

tenderness filled him.

With the gentleness he’d used throughout, he dried her. He laid aside the damp towel and removed the lid of a small jar.

“Arnica, calendula, witch hazel help bruises to heal.” As he scooped a handful of ointment, a fresh smell mingled

pleasantly with the jasmine. “There are advantages to having a lover who spent his youth poring over herbals.”

“Instead of touring the fleshpots?” she asked dryly, although she tensed with silent discomfort when he smoothed the

mixture on the darkening marks around her wrists.

Filey would pay tenfold for every drop of Grace’s pain. Matthew swore vengeance against his enemies even while he

kept his touch light.

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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Ouch.” She grimaced when he began on the swollen, purple mess of her left cheek.

She’d been so sweetly stoic through what he knew was an agonizing process. He covered the last of her bruises with

ointment and turned away, wiping his hands on a linen towel. “Rest now, Grace.”

“Where are you going?” Her eyes were bright with fear.

He dredged up a smile that he prayed reassured. “Only to the kitchen. I’m brewing something to help you sleep.”

She gave a visible shudder. “I’ll never sleep again.” Her hands shook as she tugged the rug up to hide her body.

“You’ll get over this.” Briefly, he touched her shoulder, feeling the tremors that racked her. “I won’t be long.”

In the kitchen, Matthew quickly made a tea of valerian, willow bark, and meadowsweet. It would dull her aches although

she’d feel buffeted and sore for several days. She’d survive this ordeal and emerge whole and shining. He just wished to

hell he could be there to see it.

He brought the laden tray through. “Do you feel any better?”

She looked up from her supine position and managed a smile. Or as much of a smile as her ruined face allowed.

“Actually, I do.”

He deliberately concentrated on practicalities. “I’ve got bread and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” Weariness shadowed her expression. Emotionally she reached her limits. As she raised herself

awkwardly on the cushions, he handed her the steaming cup. She clearly felt the full effect of Filey’s beating. Until now,

shock had kept the worst of the pain at bay. She sipped and he couldn’t help but laugh at her moue of distaste. “It’s

dreadful.”

“You can’t take opium. This was the next best thing.”

Wondering amazement filled her eyes. Astonishing how expressive even her bruised face was. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything about you. Now drink up. Then try and eat something.”

He waited for another argument. But she must have felt even worse than he thought because she finished the tea and

food, then lay back in exhaustion.

“My head hurts,” she mumbled into the cushion.

He was sure it did, even though the tea already had a narcotic effect. She hardly made a murmur as he wrapped the

blanket around her, scooped her into his arms and carried her upstairs to bed.

After sharing this room for three days, he had no trouble laying his hands on her night rail. Not that she’d worn it much

recently. He carefully dressed her, then pulled back the sheets.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered even as her eyelids fluttered. She was barely conscious.

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ABC Amber LIT Converter http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

“Never,” he said, although the word was a betrayal.

His false promise seemed to satisfy her because she relaxed against the pillows. Almost immediately, he heard her

breathing take on the slow rhythm of sleep. He covered her with the blankets although the room wasn’t cold.

He tugged off his boots and lay down beside her. She should sleep for hours, but he didn’t want her to awake alone and

frightened.

Grace gave a soft cry of distress. Immediately Matthew stirred to alertness. Somewhere in the dark hours, he must have

fallen into an uneasy doze.

He wore a shirt and trousers and lay on top of the covers while she lay beneath them. He hadn’t wanted to risk hauling

her into his arms and hurting her while he was unaware.

They’d been lovers only a few days but already he’d become dangerously addicted to holding her through the night.

Without her, he was bereft and lonely. As if his world no longer turned in the right direction.

Jesus, how would he survive without her? Not just for one night. Forever.

He suppressed the grim premonition of what hell awaited and reached over to light a candle. “Grace, are you all right?”

The flickering light revealed new bruising on her face in spite of his efforts with the ointment. Pain and the ghost of fear

shone in her dark blue eyes and tautened her swollen mouth. His resolve that Filey, and ultimately his uncle, would pay

for this outrage surged anew. If heaven granted just that modicum of justice, he’d die a happy man.