Chapter 1 #2
“Nothing but for you to leave my property.”
That gave her pause. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Good,” Jude said dryly. “Because I wasn’t offering.”
She swayed, catching herself against a bale of hay. “Why do you have a rifle?” she demanded.
“Because I heard a noise and thought it might be a wild animal. Which, to be fair, I wasn’t entirely wrong about.”
Suspicion darkened her expression. “Do you work for Mr. Broderick?”
“Who the devil is Mr. Broderick?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “If you mean me no harm, you’ll put the rifle down.”
“And why would I do that when you’re pointing that thing at me?”
For a moment, neither moved. Then something in her posture sagged—a flicker of exhaustion or defeat. Her voice was softer when she asked, “You’ll let me go, then?”
He hesitated. Every instinct told him she was hurt, and terrified—but she was also drenched, muddy, and very much a mystery. Still… “I’ll let you go,” he said at last, lowering the rifle to the ground.
Her shoulders eased a fraction. “Where’s the nearest town?” she asked, her voice shaking.
He studied her pale face, which was growing more pale with each passing moment. “You’re in no condition to walk anywhere. Are you hurt besides that head wound?”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, though her legs trembled beneath her. “I only need directions.”
Jude didn’t believe her for an instant. “You’ll collapse before you reach the main road.”
“I’ll manage,” she said stubbornly. “Just… don’t follow me.”
“Why in the blazes would I follow you?”
Before she could answer, her pitchfork clattered to the ground. Her eyes rolled back, and she crumpled.
“Botheration.” Jude dropped his rifle and caught her just before she hit the dirt. She was light—too light. Her skin was cold, and she barely stirred in his arms.
He stood there for a long moment, torn between sense and conscience. He should leave her, ride into town, and fetch help. That would be the logical choice. But logic had little to do with the fierce protectiveness rising in his chest.
“Devil take it,” he muttered, shifting her weight and starting towards the cottage.
Halfway there, she stirred. “What are you doing?” she gasped, struggling weakly. “Let me down this instant!”
“No.”
“You promised I could leave!”
“And you fainted before you made it to the door,” he retorted. “That changes things.”
She pushed feebly against his chest. “I will be fine.”
“You will not,” he said through gritted teeth. “You need stitches, and I’ve no desire to bury a stranger on my land.”
When he reached the cottage, he nudged the door open with his shoulder and set her gently on the chair by the hearth. She immediately sprang up and darted towards the table, seizing a dull knife and brandishing it with shaking hands.
“Stay back,” she warned.
Jude crossed his arms, unimpressed. “That knife is so blunt it couldn’t cut through butter.”
“How do I know you won’t hurt me?”
He smirked faintly. “I never said I wouldn’t. Stitches are painful things.”
Her hand went to her forehead. When she touched the wound, she winced. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s awful,” he countered. “You’ll scar badly if I don’t sew it up.”
Suspicion warred with exhaustion in her eyes. “And you expect me to trust you with a needle?”
“I assure you that if I wished to harm you, I wouldn’t waste time threading it.”
That earned him the smallest flicker of reluctant amusement—or maybe disbelief.
He sighed, already regretting his decision to involve himself. “Sit down. Let me help you. After that, you’re free to go, assuming you can still stand.”
Keeping a white-knuckled grip on the dull knife, the young woman lowered herself into the chair by the fire. Her movements were stiff, cautious—as though she expected him to pounce at any moment. Her gaze never left him, flicking to every shift of his hand.
Jude had seen frightened creatures before, but there was something about the set of her chin that told him she was trying very hard not to appear afraid.
He crossed to the small table and fetched the wooden box that held his meager medical supplies. Setting it down with deliberate calm, he lifted the lid and withdrew a needle, thread, and small bottle of spirits. “You’ve had stitches before?” he asked, glancing up at her.
“I have.”
“Good.” He threaded the needle, holding it close to the firelight. “Then you know it will hurt like the devil.”
Her lips twitched, the faintest ghost of humor. “So you mean to say you are not gentle?”
“I’m efficient,” he replied, pulling a chair closer. “That’s far better than gentle in these matters.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Very well. I am ready.”
“Hold still.”
Jude leaned forward, gently tilting her chin towards the light. Up close, he could see just how pale she was, a fine sheen of sweat glistening at her hairline. The gash wasn’t deep, but it bled freely. He dabbed at it with a damp cloth, earning a sharp hiss of pain.
“Apologies,” he murmured. “Would you prefer I let it fester?”
“No,” she said quickly, her voice tight. “Do what you must.”
He smiled faintly at that. She was braver than she looked. “Tell me,” he said as he brought the needle close, “what did you do last time to earn yourself stitches?”
Her eyes flickered, momentarily distant. “My brother dropped a looking glass when we were children. I stepped on a shard. It hurt something fierce.”
“Which was worse?” Jude asked, working the first stitch through her skin. “The glass or the sewing after?”
“Both.”
He chuckled. “You’re remarkably honest.”
She gave him a wary look. “Do you always laugh while torturing your patients?”
“Only the brave ones.” He tied off the thread and leaned back, satisfied. “There. Two stitches. Not my best work, but you’ll live. It’ll scar, though. Just not as badly.”
Tentatively, she reached up to touch the mended wound. “Thank you,” she murmured, genuine gratitude threading through her voice.
“You’re welcome,” Jude said simply.
The rain began then—a heavy, insistent drumming against the roof that deepened into a steady roar.
The young woman’s face fell as she glanced towards the window. “Of course it’s raining,” she muttered.
“You can stay until it lets up,” Jude offered.
Her reaction was immediate. She shot up from the chair so fast the knife clattered to the floor. “Absolutely not! I cannot remain here. Not alone. Not with you.”
Jude arched a brow, amused despite himself. “I hate to inform you, but you already are.”
“I must go.” She strode to the door, but when she wrenched it open, the cold, furious storm greeted her with a sheet of rain and a gust that blew the door wide.
“I won’t stop you,” Jude said behind her. He set the needle back in the box. “But if you walk out there now, you’ll have the fever by morning and if the cold doesn’t take you, the adders might.”
Her shoulders stiffened. Slowly, she turned back to him. “How do I know I can trust you to behave like a gentleman?”
“You don’t,” he admitted, meeting her gaze evenly. “But you have my word I mean you no harm.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Frankly, I don’t care if you do,” he said. “I have stew on the fire. You look half-famished. Stay long enough to eat, and then you may go as soon as the rain stops.”
At the mention of food, her hand pressed against her stomach, betraying her hunger before she could hide it. “I could eat.”
He gestured towards the armchair by the fire. “Sit. I’ll serve you.”
After a long moment, she closed the door against the storm and did as he asked. Jude took a blanket from the bed and draped it gently over her knees. She flinched at first, then whispered, “Thank you.”
He turned away, ladling the stew into a bowl, fighting the creeping awareness that what he was doing was sheer madness.
If anyone ever learned that he had harbored a strange woman alone in his cottage overnight, she would be ruined. And honor would demand he marry her.
But who would know?
She clearly had no intention of lingering, and he had no desire for company. He would feed her, see that she was warm, and send her on her way as soon as the storm broke.
That was the sensible thing to do.
Still, as he turned back with the bowl in hand, he couldn’t quite ignore the unexpected pull in his chest when her wary eyes lifted to his.
She looked utterly lost.
And for reasons he couldn’t explain, Jude found himself feeling oddly protective of her.