Then common sense abruptly returned and she inwardly chastised her nonsensical thoughts.

It had been nothing more than coincidence.

A very lucky coincidence to be sure. But nothing unworldly about it.

"I did only what anyone else would have done," she said briskly, eager to divert the attention from herself. "You must allow Lord Hartshore to carry you to your room."

As if sensing her growing agitation, Lord Hartshore scooped his aunt into his arms and raised himself to his feet.

"She is right, Aunt Cassie. You have a very nasty bump on your head."

The older woman turned to glance toward Emma, who struggled to her own feet.

"You will come with us, my dear?"

Although she felt shaky and in even greater need of that brandy she had promised herself earlier, Emma gave a nod of her head.

"Of course."

Following Lord Hartshore upstairs, Emma helped him settle Lady Hartshore onto her wide bed, then, assuring the older woman she would be close at hand, she stepped aside as half a dozen servants tumbled into the room.

Leaving the horde to moan and cluck over the wounded countess, Emma sought a chair in the far corner. Her knees still felt weak and now her toes ached from being trampled by Lady Hartshore's amply proportioned chambermaid.

With a sigh she leaned her head against the thick cushion. All in all, it had been quite an eventful day. Too eventful. First her father's shocking offer. And then finding Lady Hartshore lying on the library floor.

It was little wonder she felt drained, she acknowledged as she allowed her lashes to flutter downward. She continued to keep her eyes shut as the crowd in the bedroom swelled to include the gardeners, the groom, and at last the doctor. She ignored the loud chatter as she willed her heart to slow its frantic pace and her taut muscles to relax.

Emma had no notion how much time passed before her peace was disturbed by strong hands grasping her wrists to turn her palms upward. She abruptly opened her eyes to discover a tall, gaunt-faced gentleman regarding the angry blisters upon her skin with a practiced gaze. The same doctor who had so recently tended to her twisted ankle.

"Lady Hartshore tells me that you burned your hands, Miss Cresswell."

"It is nothing, I assure you."

Disregarding her protest, the doctor made a thorough examination of her hands before bending down to pluck out a clean cloth and bottle of foul-smelling liquid from his bag on the floor.

"Mmm ... they will heal, but they must be kept clean and bandaged," he informed her as he efficiently set about wiping her tender palms. Then, reaching back into his bag, he withdrew a jar and began smearing a white ointment onto the burns. "This should help with the pain," he murmured as he set the jar aside and then wrapped thin strips of linen around her hands. "But the bandages must be changed every evening."

The pain had already begun to subside, but Emma gave a nod of her head. She knew from experience that there was little use arguing with this man.

"Very well."

Straightening, the doctor regarded her for a silent moment.

"You performed a most courageous deed today, Miss Cresswell. The entire neighborhood is in your debt."

Emma gave an awkward shake of her head, knowing that her actions had been performed more out of panic than courage.

"I am only relieved that I was in time."

"It was a miracle."

A faint smile softened Emma's tense features. "Or the work of Fredrick, if we are to believe Lady Hartshore."

Expecting the sensible doctor to chuckle at her words, she was surprised as he gave a rueful shrug.

"Perhaps it was. When you reach my age, Miss Cresswell, you learn that there are many things in this world that we do not comprehend."

Before today Emma would have dismissed the mere notion with a loud snort. Now, remembering those forbidding chills, she could not so readily laugh aside the absurd sentiment.

"I suppose," she agreed in faint tones.

The doctor reached out to kindly pat her shoulder.

"You just concentrate on caring for those burns."

"Do not fear, doctor." Lord Hartshore abruptly appeared beside Emma's chair, his gaze trapping her own in a golden warmth. "I will ensure that she receives the greatest care."

Eleven.

Cedric did not allow his gaze to waver from Emma's too-pale face. Not even when the good doctor performed a small bow.

"Then I shall leave my patient in your care," he murmured.

"Thank you."

Barely noting the discreet withdrawal of the older gentleman, Cedric reached down to gently brush a stray curl behind her ear.

A soft, poignant tenderness washed through him. He wished they were alone so that he could pull her into his arms and assure himself that she was truly unharmed.

When he had first entered the library, his thoughts had naturally been upon his aunt. He had been terrified that she had been overcome by some dread illness. But once assured that Cassie had suffered only minor injuries, his concern turned to Emma.

He felt her pain as if it had been his own hands burned. She had been a fool to battle the flames with such disregard for her own safety.

Certainly he was deeply grateful for her saving his aunt, but he could not deny a desire to shake her for putting herself in harm's way.

If she had been seriously hurt ... gads, it did not even bear thinking of.

Growing uncomfortable beneath his steady regard, Emma shifted in the chair.

"How is Lady Hartshore?"

"Already complaining that she is far too busy to remain in bed. I believe she feels the world will come to a halt if she is not personally involved in keeping it spinning along."

Thankfully his light tone managed to coax a faint smile to her lips.

"I suppose that is a good sign."

"Yes, although she will no doubt attempt to bully the servants into allowing her to rise," Cedric retorted, all too familiar with his aunt's perverse nature. "I fear I will have to remain at Mayford to keep her from any sort of foolishness."

He was not at all surprised when she stiffened at his determined words.

"You intend to stay at Mayford?"

"You need not sound so horrified," he mocked softly.

That charming color instantly flooded her cheeks. "I was merely surprised."

"Who else will change your bandages?" he inquired, then, as her lips parted to protest, he pressed a finger to them. "Besides, I intend to ensure you do not risk yourself again performing heroic deeds."

"I did nothing heroic."

He leaned forward, his finger moving to trace the line of her stubborn jaw.

"You saved Cassie's life."

She trembled beneath his touch, but astonishingly she did not jerk away. Cedric could only presume that she was still in shock.

"I did nothing that you or even one of the servants wouldn't have done had you entered the library."

He gave a slow shake of his head. "Be modest if you wish, but the truth is that my family owes you a debt that can never be repaid."

Her head ducked at his insistent words. "Please, I wish you would not talk such nonsense. It quite puts me out of patience."

"Well, we cannot have that." Cedric struggled to hide his amusement at her embarrassment. "I shall respect your wishes. However, I do insist that you devote the next few days to recovering from your injuries."

Her head rose abruptly at the firm command. "Lady Hartshore will need me to oversee her duties and, of course, I must keep her company. She will grow bored without some form of entertainment."

"I will keep my aunt entertained, and any duties can be safely laid upon the housekeeper," Cedric insisted.

She heaved a faint sigh of exasperation. "I assure you that I am perfectly fine."

"Nevertheless you are commanded to be at your leisure."

"I would really prefer-"

"That is an order, Miss Cresswell," Cedric informed her in stern tones.

The emerald eyes flashed with the temper she took such great care to hide.

"Yes, my lord. As you say, my lord."

He gave a sudden chuckle. "Very nice, my little wood nymph, but I unfortunately do not trust you to behave yourself any more than I trust my aunt to remain abed. I fear the moment I turn my back you will be down in the kitchen or fetching and carrying for Aunt Cassie."

"What do you propose to do? Tie me to my bed?"

Cedric caught his breath at the seductive, wholly improper image that rose to mind. He could no longer deny that he would dearly love to have her upon a bed. Any bed. The nearest bed. Although he did not wish to have her in any way bound. He wanted her free to wrap her arms around his back and her legs around his....

Good gads. He took an abrupt step backward. He would have to gain greater control over his treacherous thoughts if he were to remain beneath the same roof with this woman for the next few days. Or at least remain very close to plenty of cold water.

"Well, if that is your desire, I should naturally do whatever necessary to accommodate you," he quipped in light tones. "However, I was thinking of nothing more outrageous than a simple promise to do as I request."

An unwanted awareness flickered through her eyes before she was giving an uncomfortable shrug.

"If you insist."

"I do," he said softly. "You have become far too important to my family to allow you to take unnecessary risks. Until those hands are completely healed, you are strictly off duty. Now I must return to Hartshore Park and pack a few belongings." He smiled into her wary eyes. "Do not fear, I shall return before you have the opportunity to miss me."

"Of that I have no doubt," she muttered.

Offering her a faint bow, he made his way out of Mayford. Before leaving the room, Cedric paused by the bed to assure his aunt he would soon return.

His carriage was waiting, and within moments he was swiftly on his way to Hartshore Park.

He leaned back into the squabs with a faint sigh.

Although it had been nothing more than a whim that had led him to Mayford, he was deeply relieved that he had not ignored it in favor of meeting with his growingly impatient steward. In truth, he cursed himself for taking so deuced long to choose between his dark gold coat and a more dashing one in green.

If not for his uncharacteristic bout of vanity, it would have been him to discover Cassie in the library and Emma would not have been injured at all.

A wry smile abruptly twisted his lips.

If not for Emma, he would not have been plagued with indecision as to which coat best set off his shoulders, he acknowledged.

Gads, he was beginning to behave as ridiculous as any callow schoolboy. Twittering over his clothing, ignoring the demands of his estate, toting around roses in the off chance that he might encounter the vexing maiden, and spending his nights plagued with dreams that left him aching with need.

If he were not careful, he would end up walking the plank, just as Bart had predicted.

His absurd thoughts were at last interrupted as they drew to a halt before his home. Climbing from the carriage, Cedric intended to linger no longer than it took to reveal his intentions to his staff and toss a few belongings in his bag.

Unfortunately he had not counted upon his shocked valet, who insisted it would take every bit of an hour to properly pack all the belongings necessary for a gentleman of fashion to be gone overnight. Or his steward, who firmly demanded Cedric's approval before beginning the repairs on the gatehouse. Or even the distraught cook, who insisted that Lady Hartshore would go into decline without her special gruel.

All in all, it was nearly three hours before he was at last able to return to Mayford.

Leaving his bags to be unpacked in the guest chamber, he strolled into the back parlor to discover Mrs. Borelli awaiting him with a large tray set on a satinwood table.

"There you are," the servant said in brisk tones. "I have made you tea."

Although the large platters of sandwiches, sliced ham, and pastries were tempting, Cedric gave a shake of his head.

"Thank you, Mrs. Borelli, but I am not very hungry at the moment."

The woman placed her hands on her hips. "A gentleman needs to keep his strength about him. I haven't time to nurse you as well. Now, eat."