A Most Dangerous Profession(25)

“Two are scraped up and one is lame, though I dinna think ’tis serious.”

“Good. Unhook them and rub them down as well as you can. The ones that aren’t injured will need to be walked while we wait for help.”

“Aye, sir.”

“As soon as someone comes from the squire’s house, we’ll rig up a sling and get Miss MacAllister out of here.”

“Yes, sir!” With that, Leeds was gone and Robert pulled the vial from the secret compartment in his portmanteau.

“I don’t need a sling; I can climb,” she said faintly.

“For once in your blasted life, you’ll do what I tell you to do.” According to Marcail, the potion in the vial would make a person sleep. With any luck, it would put Moira to sleep long enough that they could move her without causing her too much pain. He held the vial to the light and wondered about the dosage. His sister-in-law hadn’t said, and he was leery of using too much. He’d start with a sip and go from there.

He slipped his arm under Moira’s shoulders, lifted her gently, and held the vial to her lips. “Drink some of this.”

“What is it?”

“It will help the pain. Careful, it probably tastes horrid.”

She sipped it cautiously, then took a bigger sip. “It’s sweet.”

“Good.” He held the vial to the light. She’d taken half of it, but perhaps that would be enough. “Let me know how you feel.”

“Very well.” She closed her eyes.

He waited, studying her profile, noting her pale skin. Outside, Leeds instructed the men to walk the horses. A moment later he heard his own carriage being moved up the road, probably to keep the lane from being blocked.

She sighed, and he glanced at her again. To his surprise, the tense expression on her face had relaxed and her breathing was smoother.

“Moira?”

She opened her eyes, offering a sleepy, almost seductive smile. “Yes?” Her voice was low and rich and slid over him like a pair of warm hands.

Bloody hell, what’s in that potion? He cleared his throat. “Feel better?”

“Ohhhh, yessss.” She closed her eyes again, her lips still curved in a smile. “Muuuuch better.”

Good God, whatever was in that vial was potent.

She laughed, the sound sultry. “I can’t believe the coach didn’t take the corner. It didn’t look that sharp. I shouldn’t have pressed the driver.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

She peeped at him through her lashes. “If it had been anyone else but you, I’d have never made the attempt. You are my one weakness.”

Oh ho. Apparently the potion also reduces inhibitions. That’s interesting. “I don’t wish to be anyone’s weakness.”

“Well, you are. You, Robert Hurst, are my one, big, grand weakness.” She blinked slowly, her thick lashes casting shadows over her eyes and making them appear deep forest green. “I wonder how many other women think that about you? Probably hundreds.”

“I doubt that,” he said absently, noting that blood was beginning to soak through the bandage on her head. Damn it, where’s Stewart?

“I don’t doubt it,” she returned, her lips turned into a sulky pout. “How many women have you seduced since I left? A dozen? Two dozen? Or are your conquests too numerous to count?”

He started to reply, but she continued, “I used to think about you with all of those conquests whenever I missed you.”

“You missed me?”

“Dreadfully. I don’t know why, because you weren’t in love with me. You never pretended you were. But I—” She blinked, as if realizing that she’d said too much.

“Moira, does your head hurt anymore?”

She paused, then smiled. “No! Not at all.”

That was good news. He would have to thank Marcail for the tonic, and ask her about the interesting side effects.

“In fact,” Moira added, “I feel wooooonderful.”

“That’s good because we will need to move you soon. It might hurt.”

“That’s all right. It can’t be worse than having a ba—” She stopped, her eyes slowly locking with his.

Silence stretched between them. Finally, he said, “Baby.” He was unable to believe the words he’d just said. “Our baby.”

“No. My baby,” she replied stubbornly.