Damsel In Distress?. Kristina O'Grady

horse lying on the ground was enough to make bile rise in his throat. He swallowed a few times to avoid embarrassment. The image was something he had no wish to remember.

      “How is the patient?” Philip asked to change the topic.

      Dr Brown sank into one of the chairs in front of the desk and shook his head grimly. “It doesn’t look good. I had hoped she would have opened her eyes by now but she has yet to gain consciousness and with each passing hour it makes it more and more likely she will remain as she is. However there have been cases where victims have awoken weeks after being knocked out. Sometimes the body needs time to recover. Keep in mind, she had quite an ordeal this morning. If she does awake, it is likely she still won’t recall who she is.”

      “But you are of the opinion we should tell her about the attack?”

      “There is every chance the mentioning of such an event will jog her memory. There is just as much likelihood it won’t. But either way, don’t you think she should know someone wants her dead?”

       Chapter 7

      Harriet awoke with a vague sense of foreboding. She could remember snippets of details but mostly there was only empty space inside her head. Emotions waged war with each other as she fought to regain her memory. Fear weighed like a ball in her stomach, which in turn held her in place and yet overwhelmed her with the desire to run. But she could barely lift her head off the pillow. The pillow being covered in silk was not the point. Her body ached as though she had been run over by a coach; all her muscles were stiff.

      The room she was in was unfamiliar, although it was luxurious and smelled of lavender. She had fallen asleep in a drawing room and now she was lying on a bed…a very comfy bed. She snuggled down into the mattress; this was no ordinary mattress, but a down-filled one. Heaven. She wiggled further down and pulled the covers right up to her nose. Light danced on the walls opposite the window and cast shadows of tree leaves moving gently in the breeze. White curtains swayed in and out the window. A bee buzzed into the room, probably attracted by the bunch of flowers placed on the small table beside her bed.

      She turned her head to take in the rest of the room.

      A small squeak escaped her lips. A man was sitting next to her bed, sprawled actually; the chair in which he was sitting was overwhelmed by his large frame. He was asleep and she admonished herself for not noticing the soft snores coming from his lips when she awoke. He was beautiful. His blond hair was cut short, probably shorter than the current fashion, but there was a hint of curl in the ends that lay next to his scalp. His nose was like a Greek god’s, the slight crook at the top indicating it had been broken before. His eyes were framed by dark eyelashes; most unusual considering his hair was so light, she knew several women who would kill for eyelashes such as his…

      She knew women? She tried to grasp their names and hold them in her mind, but before their images fully formed, they slipped away, leaving only frustration in their wake.

      Her eyes strayed back to the table holding the flowers.

      Harriet was suddenly aware of how thirsty she was. Her lips stuck to one another and her tongue felt fat and swollen in her mouth. She stared longingly at the pitcher of water sitting beside the flowers. She stretched her hand out as far as she could reach but she didn’t even manage to reach across the whole bed, let alone the table beside it. Why couldn’t she lift her head? Maybe she could shimmy across the bed, closer to the water. Why were her muscles so uncooperative? She could barely manage to lift her leg. This was ridiculous! She moaned out loud in frustration.

      The man’s eyes blinked open. A smile slid across his lips when he saw her. “You’re awake.”

      Harriet slowly, painfully (why was her head so sore?) turned to look towards the deep voice. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight that greeted her.

      She smiled in return, how could she not? Where she thought he was beautiful before when sleeping, the smile transformed him to gorgeous. Light sparkled from his eyes and it was true pleasure she saw shining from them.

      The sheepish smile he gave her was unexpected coming from a man so attractive. His blond hair curled waywardly in all directions. There was a hand print on the side of his face as though he had slept with his face propped on his hand. The neck of his shirt was open and his cravat was nowhere to be seen. Harriet marvelled at the fair hairs poking out of his shirt front and the dark skin underneath them. The view did nothing to alleviate her thirst.

      “The good doctor and I were beginning to wonder if you would ever wake.”

      “How long have I been…?” Her voice was rough from disuse.

      He cut her off before she could form her question. “Two weeks.”

      “Two weeks?!” she croaked. Two weeks? She shook her head in wonderment. How could she have slept so long?

      “Are you thirsty?” He must have noticed her licking her lips. He sat himself up in the chair and leaned forward to pour water into a glass from the pitcher standing on the table next to the bed. She’d never heard a sweeter sound than that water flowing into the glass. She managed a nod before he slipped a hand under her head to help her sit up. The room swam in and out of focus. She hadn’t realised how weak she was, but it required a mammoth effort just to raise her head, even with his help.

      “Ohhh.”

      “Steady now, have a sip of this. It’ll make you feel better. Dr Brown said to give you as much liquid as I am able to force down your throat. With you asleep for so long, you haven’t been getting much at all.” He pressed a glass to her lips. She revelled in the cool water that slipped past her lips and unstuck her dry tongue from her mouth, before sliding down her throat. All he gave her was a small sip and tears came to her eyes as he pulled the glass away.

      “More?” he asked, the smile still playing on his lips.

      She nodded and the glass was once more pressed to her mouth. By the time the glass was empty she was shaking with the effort it took to drink. He gently lowered her back down onto the pillows before placing the glass on the table. Then he crouched down beside the bed. He stroked a hand across her brow, but she couldn’t feel his touch on her skin. She reached her hand up to her forehead and encountered a rough bandage.

      “Do you remember anything from that night?” he asked.

      She shook her head. “Not really.”

      “My name is Philip Blade, Baron Eaglestone. I found you riding through Hyde Park on Saturday night…or I suppose it was early Sunday morning. You were being chased by three men. I don’t want to alarm you, but Dr Brown has instructed me to tell you everything in hopes it will jog your memory.” Philip reached for her hand and Harriet clung to it as his words rolled over her.

      “They surprised you. They somehow managed to get in front of your horse when you thought they were still behind you. One of them shot your horse. I imagine some of your injuries are from the fall you took then. The rest of your injuries are courtesy of what happened next. One of the men searched you for something and then raised his pistol and pressed it against your head. You were conscious then, as I saw you moving. I yelled out as loud as I could. I couldn’t stand there and watch them murder a woman, but I didn’t have anything to defend you with either. So I yelled. Luckily, they heard me and instead of killing you, he kicked you hard in the head. I imagine your head is tender from that. When I got to you, you were not awake, but you revived a short time later and together we managed to make it here, to my home. My sister also resides here, so you needn’t worry over any damage to your reputation.”

      “Thank you.” Her voice sounded rough even to her ears. She looked at the man beside her and she wondered if he had stayed by her side the entire time she had been asleep. “Thank you,” she said again although she suspected that it didn’t convey the gratitude she was feeling for the man at the moment.

      “I only wish I could have protected you from those men. I will never forgive myself for not reaching you sooner. If I had, maybe I could have