Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match(25)

“I’m not. I’m not. I’m not—” She began hiccupping for air, and Will enfolded her in his arms. “Someone was here, and . . .”

“Someone? Who?”

“They were behind me. Right behind me. And they were touching me.” She felt the swell of horror in Will’s rib cage. “My hair. A hand, stroking down my hair. It was the most disgusting thing I have ever felt. But it also felt like my mother.” She gave a hysterical bark of laughter. “They could have snapped my neck, or cut my throat. And I just sat there.”

“Come inside,” he urged, and when she could not walk, he put an arm under her legs, lifted her, and carried her toward Blackthorne Manor. “At daylight, I’ll go and look for footprints. Perhaps there was a third thief, hanging back. Or could it have been . . .” He looked toward the barn.

“Victor is chasing him, miles away. He’s angry at us, besides. I’m sure he would not have been so gentle.”

They were at the kitchen door now, and Will called, “Mary, help.”

Angelika was still in a wheezing heap when she was laid down on a bed and saw a sideways bear. This was Will’s bedroom. “She’s had a shock,” Mary said. “I’ll fetch smelling salts, and whiskey. I’ve been telling Victor that there’s someone in the orchard.”

“Angelika,” Will said, unlacing her boots. “Please, come to your senses. Did he touch you anywhere else?” When she shook her head, he let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I was intoxicated by the thought of protecting the house, but I did not protect you. Victor should hang me.”

When Mary came back, they urged Angelika to sit up and drink several mouthfuls of liquor. “You’re all right,” Mary said brusquely. “But what am I always telling you?”

Angelika’s throat felt like it had closed completely. She could not repeat the mantra that Mary had drummed into her for so long, and the old woman said it now with angry force. “No hesitation, no politeness, run. Did you do that? Angelika, did you do as I told you?”

“She was terrified,” Will defended her. “She was frozen solid. Don’t be hard on her.”

“Someone has to be,” Mary returned. “She is a simple fool.”

“I—” Angelika could not explain. All she knew was that Mary’s expression was full of deep disappointment as she left the room.

“Don’t talk,” Will told her, closing the door. “Don’t try to talk. We will wash your hair.”

It was marvelous, having someone understand exactly what was needed in this moment. He guided her to his tub, prepared earlier by Mary. With shaking hands, they worked Angelika’s riding habit loose, until she was sinking down into the water in her muslin underdress. “Just like when we met,” she croaked, and Will skimmed the warm water over her shoulders, washing her with urgency. She was not the only one in shock. Her hair was lathered and rinsed, and he applied the sponge to each of her fingertips.

“I’m so sorry,” he told her, and his voice cracked with emotion. “You didn’t deserve this terrible fright.”

“It could have been worse.” She closed her eyes and focused her breathing. And gradually, she sank back into her own body again, hearing the lap of water, and became aware that the wet muslin on her body must have been translucent. But she trusted him and the careful way he handled her body, and he repaid that trust. There was nothing lecherous in his eyes as he kept them firmly on her face, checking her mental state.

“I’m all right. I think I am myself again. What an odd experience.” She blew out a breath, and a smile quirked her mouth. “I was sitting there, imagining you counseling the thief on the moral error he had made. I was right.”

“It seems you know me well.” Will thought about that for a minute, rubbing the sponge along her arm. “How you can know me when I do not know myself is a mystery.”

“I don’t know who you are, but I know what you are. You are good. And you make me want to be good.” She raised a hand and touched his jaw, seeking his attention. Under her wet fingertip, she felt his pulse tick faster. “I thought of you, I waited for you, and I knew you’d come for me. You saved me.” She didn’t want a sponge all over, she wanted his hand. Was it the whiskey in her stomach? The fading terror? The wet cling of fabric, all over her body, tangling up her legs like vines? “I wish you’d kiss me again.”

“I know what you want,” Will said evenly. “You do not hide it. Your eyes tell me everything, all the time.”

“I cannot hide much right now.” Through the wet cloth, every freckle on her body was visible. “I have seen so much of you. I should let you see me. ’Tis only fair.”

He did look at her body now, with such male admiration she felt her cheeks grow warm. “If our positions had been reversed, and I was making my dream woman, there is nothing I would replace or change about you, Angelika.”

A fine compliment, but also a gentle rebuke. “Victor insisted on reassembling you. I’d been reading a lot of anatomy books, and whilst I said I’d have you as you were, he convinced me some improvements could be made.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of explaining I had a small cock?”

“You had a perfectly good cock, and everything else was lovely, too, but spoiled Miss Frankenstein went hunting around like a child in a toy chest to see if she could improve on perfection. I only thought of the musculature, not the spirit inside. And I want you to know that if I could go back in time, I would not change a thing about you, either.”