“You will?” Four voices chimed in unison.
Ethan scowled at them all. Even the damn dog gave him a dubious stare.
“Yes.”
Annoyed, Ethan strode to the table across from Francesca and took Nat’s place. The rabbit was cool to his touch, but beneath his hands he felt the animal’s tiny heart beating a frantic pace. His fingers, so large on top of the small creature, rose and fell with the animal’s rapid intake of breath.
The servants shuffled awkwardly, and Francesca stared at him. He raised a brow, and she cleared her throat.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can, Miss Dashing.” The red-haired footman eyed Ethan. “Quarter of an hour at most.”
“I’ll be fine, Peter. Thank you. All of you.” Clearly she’d dismissed them, but they took their time shuffling out.
The door closed, and only Ethan and Francesca remained. Ethan stared at his fingers again, enmeshed in the soft brown fur of the rabbit, but Francesca didn’t resume her ministrations.
He looked up. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you sure you want to do this?” She gave him an uncertain look. “I can probably ask Lucia to help me, if my mother hasn’t commandeered her as well.”
“I’m already here. On with it.”
She frowned. “You might stain your clothes. Do you want to remove your coat before we begin?”
Ethan opened his mouth to tell her he’d sullied his clothing with much worse, but then remembered that Pocket had arrived at Tanglewilde with a flourish that morning, stuffy demeanor and Ethan’s valise in tow.
“Fine,” he said. Francesca put her hands next to his on the rabbit’s body. It was a small body and their fingers overlapped. For a moment, the little creature’s heartbeat flowed through both of them, but the heat pulsing from their joined hands through his body had nothing to do with the animal.
He glanced at Francesca and she blushed, averting her eyes. Beneath his fingers, her hands began to tremble.
She cleared her throat. “My lord—” Her voice was thready.
Reluctantly, he broke the connection between them. “One moment.” Ethan removed his coat and rolled up the sleeves of his lawn shirt. He moved to put his hands over hers again, but she pulled away.
“Hold her still, my lord,” she said, voice still as unsteady as her shaky hands. But within minutes her discomfort was forgotten and her adept hands had sewn the torn muscles and skin of the rabbit’s leg back together, splint the animal’s leg, and wrapped it with muslin.
Moments before, the limb resembled the crushed pulp of a strawberry, but under her dexterous fingers, the leg was whole again. He marveled at her—an enchantress with the magic of healing. It might have been his imagination, but he could have sworn the rabbit felt warmer, more alive under his fingers.
“There. All done.”
Though she spoke aloud, he knew the words weren’t for him. She stroked the rabbit’s fur, soothing the animal.
“You will be just fine, baby,” she murmured to the creature. “Here, let me take her.”
She put her hands over Ethan’s again, obviously meaning to lift the rabbit.
“Be careful,” Ethan ordered. “If it wakes, it might bite you.”
She picked the animal up and cradled it. “No. We have an understanding now, don’t we, bunny? Besides—” She placed the rabbit in one of the cages near the fire and covered it with a blanket. “She’s still in shock.”
She fluffed the straw to make the cage more comfortable, and the dog ambled over to investigate. “No, Lino.” She shook a finger at the puppy in admonishment. A tap at the door broke the quiet and Peter, the red-haired footman, stuck his head inside.
“I’m back, miss. Do you need anything?”
“No, Peter—”
“Yes.” Ethan interrupted. “Stay with Miss Dashing. I have work to do, and I don’t want her here alone.”
“Of course, my lord.” The servant straightened and brushed at his livery.
