Pleasures of a Notorious Gentleman by Lorraine Heath

blanket over his good hip, leaving the other slightly exposed for her perusal. Again she knelt. As her fingers neared, he braced himself.
    Her touch was feathery-light but it was still agonizing. It was as though she were taking a dagger—
    “I believe there’s something in there,” she said, sitting back on her heels.
    He looked at her in stunned disbelief and then examined his leg more closely. Tensing in anticipation of the onslaught of pain, he skimmed his fingers over it, detecting a hardness—was it possible? Was that why it had seemed so slow to heal, the reason the pain never went away? “You might be right.”
    “You silly man. What were you thinking? You need a physician.”
    “I thought I’d simply overworked it.”
    “With that swelling and redness? I’ve no doubt it’s infected. You might even have the beginnings of gangrene. It’s ghastly. You absolutely cannot delay sending for a physician.”
    “You could tend to it.”
    “It requires far more skills than I possess.”
    Gazing up at him, she looked so earnest, so young.
    “You’ve nothing to fear,” she said softly. “I’ll watch over you.”
    He did not doubt her. Not for a single moment. “Then we should indeed send for a physician posthaste. Do not, however, alarm my mother. My brother can see to the matter.”
    With a brusque nod, she rushed from the room on bare feet that barely made a sound. But to his immense delight, she had left behind her fragrance.
    A fter having the duke roused from slumber, Mercy explained to him what was needed. He hesitated not one second before sending for a physician who he assured her would arrive within the hour. Obviously, he was accustomed to having his way, of being in charge. She pitied any woman who might fall in love with him. He would no doubt prove a challenge as a husband. But then she supposed all men did.
    She went to see after John. His late-night feeding complete, he was lost in the world of dreams. Jeanette assisted her in changing into her simple black dress.
    “Are you certain you should be in a gentleman’s bedchamber at night?” Jeanette asked, her French accent thick. No one would ever doubt her origins.
    “He is fairly incapacitated. He can do me no harm.”
    “A man can always do harm.”
    “I must tend him.” The next few hours would not be pleasant. She dreaded them. For his sake, as well as hers. She did not want memories stirred.
    “Your generous heart will get you in trouble,” Jeanette murmured.
    “It already has.”
    When she returned to Major Lyons’s room, she discovered he was beneath the covers. Thank goodness. Everything neatly tucked away and hidden. She was familiar with the naked form, had bathed men, tended wounds in the most private of areas—but still she’d been unprepared for the sight of him. He’d not been aroused, but the promise of what he offered was quite evident. He’d fairly taken her breath.
    His brother was giving him the proper dressing down that she had wanted to.
    “What were you thinking?” the duke demanded. “Even I can look at your leg and tell it needs tending.”
    “I thought”—Stephen shook his head, his jaw clenched—“I thought I might lose it.”
    “Not facing reality doesn’t make it go away.”
    “Easy enough for you to say when your reality comes with no troubles.” He shifted his gaze to her. “Mercy, come sit over here.”
    The first time she’d heard her name coming from his lips, a shiver of pleasure had rippled through her. She’d thought the pleasure would diminish the next time, but it only increased. “Major—”
    “For God’s sake, Mercy, as I said earlier, you’ve given birth to my son. Formality between us is hypocritical.”
    “And politeness? Shall we dispense with it as well?”
    He sighed heavily. “My apologies. I’m not at my best when my leg is consumed by fire.”
    “You’re an idiot,” the duke muttered. “I cannot believe you let it come to this.”
    “And I cannot believe