Ifonly it were just physical, this odd pull he has with
me. But the more I know
of him, the more I wish to be near him. The way he respects
his household
staff and the way he spoke to his patients today—my
father always said it was
how a gentleman treats the common man that betrays the most
about his
character.
And
why am I so obsessed with Rowan’s character? Why does it
matter so much what
he thinks of me or of anything beyond medicine?
It
matters because I’m falling in love with him.
The
shock of the revelation made her fingers go numb and
breathless, the heavy tray
of vials and delicate glass containers sliding out of her
hands and striking
the hard floor with a soul-jarring crash. The expensive
crystal shattered in
an explosion of sound, and she cried out in horror at the
clumsy mistake.
Gayle
quickly began to kneel to try to salvage something from the
shards to ward off
her useless tears. He’ll be furious when he sees... and
what am I doing?
Acting like a mindless ninny because I’ve lost my heart to a
man who barely
tolerates me.
"Don’t
move." His voice was gentle, but firm from the doorway into
the lab.
"I’m
sorry for the dreadful mess. I can clean it—"
"Don’t!
Move!" It was a firmer command, arresting her movement this
time as she
registered the unexpected urgency in his words. Gayle
straightened, her cheeks
burning with embarrassment, unsure if he meant to lecture
her where she stood
or if the mishap were somehow worse than she’d
estimated.
He
lit several lamps to ensure that he’d have the light he
needed to see and came
toward her.
Before
she could ask what he intended, he’d bent over to use his
handkerchief to brush
aside the largest sharp pieces from a small area in front of
her. And then he
knelt on one knee and gingerly began plucking the glass
slivers and tiny shards
from the hem of her skirt. In the glow of the lamplight at
her feet, she now
realized that the last few inches of her skirt had
transformed into a
glittering display of nearly invisible bits of broken
glass.
"I
could just shake them out, Dr. West." She had to swallow,
for the lump that
had formed in her throat at the sight of him at her
feet—so intimately close,
so tenderly focused on his compassionate task.
"Just
stand still, Gayle."
And
there she was—trapped in an impossible moment of
chivalry.
He
worked efficiently and quietly, cleaning up a small section
of the hem of her
skirts and petticoats to brush it with his handkerchief
wrapped fingers,
pulling out the glass that remained, then clearing the floor
to allow himself
to shift over a few inches and repeat the process.
"You
don’t have to do all this." She was breathless at the
sensation of his hands
moving against her skirts, never making contact with her
ankles or slippers,
but still there, his head bent and level with her
thighs, his forehead a
scant inch from the pleated fabric and the temptation to
reach down and touch
his hair was making her dizzy.
"I’d
rather this than finding my kit to teach you how to pull
glass splinters out of
your ankles. I imagine they’re too pretty to be scratched
up needlessly, Miss
Renshaw."
"I
don’t think you’re supposed to imagine what your
apprentice’s ankles look like,
Dr. West."
He
laughed, but didn’t cease his efforts. "I’ll do my best to
refrain from doing
so, Miss Renshaw."
"I’m...this
is awkward, Dr. West. You wouldn’t do this if I were a
man."
"You’re
absolutely right. I would have gotten the scissors and just
offered to let you
cut off your pant legs and then I’d have left the matter of
your stockings to
you."
"Oh,"
she tried to ignore the shocking image of Rowan cutting her
out of her
clothes. "I see."
He
mercifully changed the subject. "It was a long day."
She
shook her head. "It was a wonderful day."
He
smiled. "Wednesdays in this house are not everyone’s idea
of wonderful, but
I’m glad you thought so. The hours fly for me on these
days, and there is a
selfish pleasure to having everyone about to lend a hand.
Even if Mrs. Evans
does fuss a bit at the state of her floors afterward."
"So
many different patients on a single day—I loved it!"
He
moved again, now kneeling almost directly behind her.
"Good. I was afraid I’d
exhausted you and caused this—"
"I
am not prone to accidents."
"Of
course, you’re not."
"Please
don’t mock me. How is it that every time I wish to convey
how reliable I am,
something happens and one of us is kneeling on the floor
over some mess I’ve
made?"
"Fate,"
he replied gently.
Why
wasn’t he yelling? There’s a month’s wages for most
physicians on this
floor—but the man is speaking to me as calmly as if we
were talking about the
weather.
"Why
are you so...kind to me? You needn’t be. I mean, I don’t
expect you to be kind,
Dr. West."
"Perhaps
that’s why."
She
closed her eyes, wishing she knew how to fight off the
sentimental tears that
threatened and ward off the maelstrom of emotions inside of
her. I am not
falling in love with this man—I won’t! I’ve come too
far to surrender my
dreams and transform myself into a joke. "I’ll pay for
the glass. I’ll
replace all of it, Dr. West."
He
shook his head. "There’s no need for that. I’d needed an
excuse to visit the
glass shop and—"
"I’m
not Ada Featherstone! I’m not some addle-headed woman that
you need to
coddle! You have every right to be angry, Dr. West, and I
insist on being
allowed to restore what I’ve broken."
"Gayle,"
he spoke softly, the use of her first name capturing her
attention. "Trust me
when I say this. There may well be an extensive list of
things that invoke an
angry reaction from me, and God knows, I’m not always very
good at keeping
myself in check, but broken glass—hasn’t been on the
list for a very, very long
time."
Rowan
sat back on his heels and shifted again, this time returning
to his starting position
in front of her to survey his progress. "I’m almost done,
Gayle. Just hold
still for another few seconds, and allow a small
liberty."
"A
s-small liberty?" she asked, but the answer was swift and
left her speechless
as his hands lightly trailed up her ankles and calves,
circling the muscles
there to gently caress her up to the back of her knees.
"Just
one last check for any glass slivers that may have strayed
onto your
stockings."
"Oh!"
His touch was efficient and feather soft, but the miasma of
fire and delight
that spread up her limbs to form a molten pool between her
hips was
intoxicating. Her knees turned to rubber, and she bit the
inside of her cheek
to stare at the ceiling as a thousand wicked thoughts nearly
overcame her. The
splay of his warm fingers were telegraphing electric sweet
storms all over her
body and she wasn’t sure she could survive another pass of
his hands without
betraying herself with a moan or a sigh.
"Ah,
there’s one." He sat back on his heels and sucked a small
piece of glass from
an index finger to discard it with the rest. "Not life
threatening, Miss
Renshaw, but you don’t deserve a miserable end to a
wonderful day."
She
nodded in stunned silence, one hand gripping the work
table’s edge to keep her
steady on her feet and the other pressed against her chest
to keep her heart
from pumping out of her ribcage.
"Well,
I’ve pushed it under the table far enough for now and
Florence can bring up a
dustpan in the morning to clear it. As for this, I’ll just
throw this
handkerchief into the bin." He stood like a graceful
panther rising from the
floor. "You should get some rest, Miss Renshaw."
All
she could do was nod, like a mute child, miserably blushing
but hypnotized by
him.
"Good
night, then."
Rowan
left her there, returning to the second floor, and Gayle
began to cry.
Some
things just are. You don’t have to understand them.