Page 4 of Love with a Notorious Rake

He entered his room and stopped short at the sight of Cristyn. She was her father’s most trusted, loyal assistant and nurse. Her presence always caused his heart to skip a beat. It made him fully aware he was a man, and she a woman. Cristyn’s beauty never failed to capture his interest. She had a coal-black shade of hair similar to his, and violet-blue eyes he could happily become lost in. This glorious young lady was far too stunning to be toiling away in a country clinic for addicted reprobates.

Cristyn was making his bed, going about her chores efficiently and cheerfully. Early in his stay, there were times when she had annoyed him with her sunny smile and optimism; then he’d learned to bask in it, savor it. But nothing had prepared him for her touch. Even the lightest brush of her fingers seized his breath. He was shameless, being attracted to her while in such a pathetic state.

Could he be drawn to her because she was the only attractive woman around for months? Perhaps, for surely it could not be more. Despite his poor health, the rake still lurked under the surface. Yet during his horrible first few weeks here, Cristyn had stood at the vanguard, coaxing him to eat and attending to his every need. She’d spoken to him in soft, reassuring tones, all the while acting compassionate and kind and encouraging him to embrace his recovery. My angel. My savior.

One particularly vivid memory recalled him as a crumpled heap of tears and self-pity. Cristyn had held him, speaking soothing words of support. She had called him cariad more than once. Aidan found out later it meant “love” in the Welsh tongue. A term of endearment? Did she refer to all her male patients as cariad in her sensual, musical voice? What made him worthy of her special attention?

Beyond such questions, his blatant display of emotion and weakness embarrassed him the more his condition improved. In increments, he slowly tucked away such vulnerabilities and allowed the old Aidan to emerge, at least in her presence. The cool, detached, I-couldn’t-care-less rake. It was a solid shield to hide behind. You damned coward.

Cristyn turned to face him, gifting him with one of her open and friendly smiles. No matter how standoffish he acted, she still treated him with kindness.

“I could have made the bed,” he said. “Keeping my room neat and tidy is part of the treatment here at the clinic, is it not?”

“I don’t mind helping out. Done with your daily dialogue?”

“Yes. I was ordered by your father to take a walk. I’ve come to fetch my coat. He also informed me that I am to be paroled from this desolate prison in two weeks.”

Her smile faltered. Would she be sorry to see him depart? Strangely, that thought pleased him. “You will be glad to see the back of me, I am quite sure.”

Cristyn met his gaze. “No. Not at all.”

The look that she gave him was heated, and his swift reaction took him by surprise. He must be nearly well if a wave of lustful hunger was tearing through him. He was tempted to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Instead, he gazed at her through half-lidded eyes and said, “Why not join me on my walk?”

“I have my duties to see to.”

“Surely you are able to spare fifteen minutes? I may need your arm to keep me steady.”

“You’re recovered enough to walk under your own steam.”

“Perhaps, or maybe I wish to be alone with you.” What was he doing? One sultry expression from the beautiful nurse and his shield had crumbled into dust.

Color spread across Cristyn’s lustrous cheeks. “Do not tease me,” she replied softly.

The honesty in her lovely eyes made his heart stutter. Damn it all, she did have feelings for him. While the knowledge gave him a jolt of satisfaction, it also filled him with dread. What he’d denied the past several months was crystalline clear: they were fiercely attracted to one another. For weeks, months even, this inappropriate interest had hovered about the edges of every encounter and conversation. Stopping at the Crimson Club took on a fresh urgency—it would banish his inappropriate desire for this young woman.

He couldn’t be with her. Nor could he pursue this passion, even though he was drawn toward her like a thirsty man to cool, refreshing water. What harm could a simple stroll about the grounds do? Surely he could maintain control of his impulses. And more than anything, he wanted someone to talk to. Yes, he was lonely. “Come and walk with me.”

Cristyn untied her apron and laid it on his bed. “I’ll fetch my shawl.”

As she scurried away, Aidan slowly ran his fingertips across the heavy cotton apron, still warm from her body. He glanced about, then picked it up, rubbed the material against his cheek, and inhaled the fragrance of crisp cotton, laundry soap, and the faint scent of violets. It was an appropriate flower, considering the shade of her eyes. His senses came alive, and he closed his eyes as if the apron itself was her gentle embrace. Again his reaction proved he was close to being fully recovered. Another reason to stay well clear of her.

At the sound of light footfalls, he placed the apron on the bed the way he’d found it, giving it a last touch with his fingertips. Discomfited by his actions, he turned to face the window, schooling his features into complete indifference. Difficult to achieve, considering his insides were aflame.

“I’m ready.”

Strange emotions were whirling about him. Some he recognized, like lust and desire. Others were more elusive, probably because he’d never experienced them before. It was best to put all of this out of his mind. Aidan slipped on his coat, then turned to face her. “Shall we set off?”

Once outside, they sauntered along the lane side by side. Politeness stated he should offer his arm, but touching her would light him like a firecracker.

“This is rather familiar,” Aidan said. “We often took walks together as I was recuperating. Granted, you were pushing me in a wheeled chair on many of the excursions.”

“Yes, and many of the conversations were one-sided.” Cristyn’s eyes twinkled with amusement.

“Well, I was barely able to feed myself, let alone form coherent sentences.” But he remembered it all, every word she had ever said to him. Every smile he’d been gifted with.

“I’m pleased with the progress you’ve made. I’m proud of you, Aidan.”

He cleared his throat but didn’t respond, for he believed he was not worthy of any praise. Embarrassment covered him, and regret for all he had done.