Granted, the fetching young miss thought he was a blithering idiot. But that was a mere quibble. Truth be told, he was still gathering his wits.
In those moments following the blast, his first, admittedly selfish thought had been for his knee. He was almost certain he’d ripped the joint apart again, what with that ungainly rescue attempt. Before his injury, he would have managed to scoop this girl off the road with more grace. She was lucky he’d been standing to the side of the lane and not down the hill with the others, or he never could have reached her in time.
Once a few moments’ assessment and a trial flex or two had assured him his knee remained intact, his thoughts had all centered on her. How the irises of her eyes were the same blue as . . . well, irises. How she smelled like a garden—a whole garden. Not just blossoms and herbs, but the juice of crushed green leaves and the rich, fertile essence of the earth. How she made the perfect place to land, so warm and so soft. How it had been a stupidly long time since he’d had a woman under him, and he couldn’t recall one ever caressing him so sweetly as this.
God, had he truly kissed her?
He had. And she was lucky he hadn’t done more. For a moment there, he’d been well and truly dazed. He supposed the blast was to blame for that. Or maybe it was just her.
She sat up a bit further. Wisps of loosened hair tumbled about her face. Her hair was a striking shade of gold, touched with red. It made him think of molten bronze.
“Do you know what day it is?” she asked, peering at him.
“Don’t you?”
“Here in Spindle Cove, we ladies have a schedule. Mondays are country walks. Tuesdays, sea bathing. Wednesdays, you’d find us in the garden.” She touched the back of her hand to his forehead. “What is it we do on Mondays?”
“We didn’t get to Thursdays.”
“Thursdays are irrelevant. I’m testing your ability to recall information. Do you remember Mondays?”
He stifled a laugh. God, her touch felt good. If she kept petting and stroking him like this, he might very well go mad.
“Tell me your name,” he said. “I promise to recall it.” A bit forward, perhaps. But any chance for formal introductions had already fallen casualty to the powder charge.
Speaking of the powder charge, here came the brilliant mastermind of the sheep siege. Damn his eyes.
“Are you well, miss?” Colin asked.
“I’m well,” she answered. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for your friend.”
“Bram?” Colin prodded him with a boot. “You look all of a piece.”
No thanks to you.
“He’s completely addled, the poor soul.” The girl patted his cheek. “Was it the war? How long has he been like this?”
“Like this?” Colin smirked down at him. “Oh, all his life.”
“All his life?”
“He’s my cousin. I should know.”
A flush pressed to her cheeks, overwhelming her freckles. “If you’re his cousin, you should take better care of him. What are you thinking, allowing him to wander the countryside, waging war on flocks of sheep?”
Ah, that was sweet. The lass cared. She would see him settled in a very comfortable asylum, she would. Perhaps Thursdays would be her day to visit and lay cool cloths to his brow.
“I know, I know,” Colin replied gravely. “He’s a certifiable fool. Completely unstable. Sometimes the poor bastard even drools. But the hell of it is, he controls my fortune. Every last penny. I can’t tell him what to do.”
“That’ll be enough,” Bram said. Time to put a stop to this nonsense. It was one thing to enjoy a moment’s rest and a woman’s touch, and another to surrender all pride.
He gained his feet without too much struggle and helped her to a standing position, too. He managed a slight bow. “Lieutenant Colonel Victor Bramwell. I assure you, I’m in possession of perfect health, a sound mind, and one good-for-nothing cousin.”
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Those blasts . . .”
“Just powder charges. We embedded them in the road, to scare off the sheep.”
“You laid black powder charges. To move a flock of sheep.” Pulling her hand from his grip, she studied the craters in the road. “Sir, I remain unconvinced of your sanity. But there’s no question you are male.”
He raised a brow. “That much was never in doubt.”
Her only answer was a faint deepening of her blush.
“I assure you, all the lunacy is my cousin’s. Lord Payne was merely teasing, having a bit of sport at my expense.”
“I see. And you were having a bit of sport at my expense, pretending to be injured.”
“Come, now.” He leaned toward her and murmured, “Are you going to pretend you didn’t enjoy it?”