Realization settled in Eloise's eyes as David stood staring down at her—wanting her beyond anything he had ever wanted. His lust was uncontainable, and Eloise saw it, for fear flashed in her eyes. Her body appeared to sink further into the mattress as her eyelids fluttered shut.
Leaning further down to claim her lips, he was stopped by the look in her eyes as her lids gave way; the look of acceptance. The fear was gone, and in its place, an acceptance of her fate.
David knew Eloise would not attempt to fight him off; he knew she would lie still and let him derive his pleasure; it was this knowledge that knocked him back to his senses.
By God, he was a monster! First, he had treated Eloise poorly by purchasing her and forcing her to live in his home as a servant, then he had injured her foot, and now he attempted to rape her. He knew he had changed since the death of his wife, but he hadn't known how godawful he had become. He had turned his grief into wrath and had turned his wrath on an innocent woman.
"Mrs Taylor." He touched her face, guilt stabbing his heart as he watched the color drained from it. "I'm not going to hurt you..." he sighed, glancing at her foot briefly, "not anymore. I'm sorry for what happened earlier and for how poorly I've treated you since you got here." Confusion creased her brows as she stared at him in disbelief. "You're free to go," he offered. "Allow me see to the care of your foot as payment for the harm I've caused, and once you're ready to leave Oakham, you have my permission." Setting her free was the least he could do for the damage he had caused these past few months. Perhaps she might even decide to leave with Jon. The life of a mistress was less-than-honorable, but it would afford her the luxury she deserved.
Silence followed his words. Releasing his hold on her face, he turned his attention to her injured foot.
"May I?" He sought her permission once again.
"Yes, my lord," she whispered.
He raised her skirt to her shin, a soft wince drifting from his lips at the sight of her ankle. His shame was uncontainable as he slid her slipper off her foot and stared at her damaged nail.
Mrs Edward entered the room soon after with a steaming kettle and a bottle of scotch.
"I need a bowl, scissors, arnica and gauze," he said.
"Yes, my lord." She turned from him, exiting the room once more.
David made his way back to Eloise's side and touched her forehead. "It's going to hurt for a second while I work, but I need you to lie still."
He waited until she nodded to his instructions before turning to retrieve two pillows from the bed. He carried the pillows to her foot and placed them under her ankle to elevate her foot above her head.
Mrs Edward returned sooner than he expected. Rolling up his sleeves to his elbows, he went to work on Eloise's foot. He already had plenty of medical experience from his time in the war when he needed to not only treat his wounds, but the wounds of other soldiers in the absence of a physician. Once, he had stitched his own thigh.
Pushing the horrid memory aside, he reached for the scissors and began cutting Eloise's broken nail, hoping to extract it from the root. The thing was dead as far as he could tell, and would certainly be nothing but a nuisance if he didn't take it off. Eloise yelped, hissed and winced while he worked, her knee jerking upright as she fought to be released. But David kept a firm hold on her leg.
"Sit with her," he said, taking the entire tray from Mrs Edward as he motioned to Eloise. The older woman nodded once before settling on the edge of the bed and taking Eloise's hand in hers. Eloise's cries subsided once Mrs Edward was by her side, but it didn't cease completely, ripping David's heart apart as he worked to clean the blood that stained her toe. Then, he poured the hot water and arnica mixture into the bowl.
"Sit upright," he instructed, shifting to position the bowl at the foot of the bed. She obeyed. "This will sting a little." He glanced up briefly to offer an apologetic shake of his head, before dipping her foot in the fomentation. She gasped, and he tightened his grip on her foot to keep it in the water. Pain marred her face as tears slipped down her cheeks.
"Boil the water again," he said to Mrs Edward. When she nodded and exited the room with the kettle, he released Eloise's foot and settled beside her, taking her hand in his. "I'm sorry," he apologized once more, seeing for himself the result of his rage to an undeserving victim.
She offered a small nod and bowed her head.
"You'll need to sit like this with your leg in the water for a while. If you get tired, you may rest your head on my shoulder."
"Thank you, my lord." He heard her small whisper, but she failed to take him up on his offer.
Silence filled the room until Mrs Edward returned with the water. Dipping several strips of gauze in the water, he used them to wrap Eloise's sprained ankle, then used strips of dry gauze to hold it in place.
Eloise was visibly exhausted by the time he finished with her foot. Once he had given Mrs Edward instructions for her care, he turned to leave the room.
"You must have Cook bake more of those scones from last evening for Adam." Her soft whisper drifted to him as he reached the door. He paused by it and turned around to steal a glance at her. She laid on the bed with Mrs Edward perched by her side, clinging to her hand. "And some chicken sandwiches and tea sweetened with honey for breakfast. I promised," she whispered drowsily, and Mrs Edward nodded. "You must go now," she said firmly—almost urgently, causing a small smile to crease his face. While he didn't know how she had managed to convince Adam to eat, it struck him to think that even in severe pain, Eloise was thinking about others.
Placing Eloise's hand on the bed, Mrs Edward rose to her feet and turned to the door. But David raised a hand, halting her in her tracks.
Stay. He motioned with a nod, silently letting her know he'd handle Adam's breakfast himself. In the meantime, Eloise needed someone close by to see to her care.
Understanding filled Mrs Edward's brown eyes. Nodding, she resumed her position by Eloise's side.
David thought he heard Eloise grumble something about Adam needing to eat right away, but the rest of the conversation died behind the door as he closed it.
*
Eloise was restless. With nothing to do but lie in bed, boredom and guilt assailed her. Boredom, because her hands lay idle, and guilt, because not only was she unable to help the servants with their chores, but she was drawing Mrs Edward away from her chores by forcing her to sit with her.
"You don't have to be here," she groaned for the umpteenth time in two days since she sprained her ankle. "I can care for myself." She watched Mrs Edward pour a cup of tea before handing it to her. Nodding her appreciation, she took the cup.
"The master insists," Mrs Edward said, settling on the rocking chair by her bedside. "Besides, you have to stay bedridden for a few more days until your leg is completely healed."
"How many more days?"
"Perhaps four."
Four?! The thought made Eloise sick. Forty-eight hours in bed was bad enough; she could only imagine how terrible it would be to lie in bed for four more days.
Swallowing her complaint along with her tea, she silently prayed for the days to go by quickly.
By the third day, Eloise was fairly certain she'd run mad in her confinement. She waited until Mrs Edward left the room with her dirty laundry before staggering to her feet. Careful to keep her weight on her left leg, she limped to the window and pushed the heavy curtains aside.
Sunlight streamed into the room, evoking a soft sigh of relief from her as she tore her lips apart and drank of the crisp scent of growing leaves. She was certain there wasn't any price she wouldn't pay to be surrounded by nature again. After living in Oakham Hall for nearly three months, she had grown into her routine of horseback riding every morning and missed it dearly.
She stood staring longingly out the window until her foot hurt. Knowing she needed to get back to bed, she turned from the window.
"My lord!" she gasped, stunned to find David standing in her room. She didn't hear him enter, nor had she seen him since the day he helped bandage her foot.
He seemed different; she thought as she stared at him. Perhaps it was the heated look in his eyes; the way his eyes seemed to ravish her as they crept down the length of her...
She gasped, realizing then she was clad in nothing but a white chemise that was likely transparent, and while her hair fell around her shoulders in an untamed mess, slightly concealing her breasts, she still felt exposed.
Uncertain what she must do, she stood stiffly before him until his gaze moved back up and settled on her face.
"I beg your pardon." He cleared his throat, turning sharply around to face the door. "I knocked, but when no answer came, I assumed it was because you were asleep or ill from your injury... I had no idea."
Now that he had his back to her, Eloise found her tongue. "Forgive me, my lord. I didn't hear you knocking."
"Don't apologize for my foolishness, Mrs Taylor. I should not have barged in on you..."
A long pause followed his words, almost as if in wait for her response. Unsure of how to respond, she stood quietly, staring at his rigid back.
"I... would like to—" he sighed softly—"look at you."
His words sent a wave of heat so suddenly through her skin, she folded her arms across her chest to keep from trembling. It surprised her to think he was requesting her permission to look upon her. Did he not know he could look at her when he pleased? He could do whatever he wanted to her.
"I'm powerless to stop you from doing so, my lord," she answered quietly.
"And if you had the power, would you?"
Eloise considered his question for several seconds, uncertain how to respond. She never had power over herself in the past; not when she was a child, nor when she was married to James. If she had power over her body and possessions, she would never have lived with her uncle, nor would she have married James.
"Put on a dressing gown," David said, interrupting her thoughts.
Nodding, she limped—mostly hopped in a hurry—to the drawer and pulled out an old dressing gown Mrs Edward had handed her upon her arrival. Once the fabric was draped over her shoulders, she cinched it to her waist with a belt.
"I've done as you requested, my lord."
David turned around then, his gaze briefly sweeping the length of her, before settling on her face. She watched his Adam's apple disappear into his blue necktie as he straightened. The heat in his gaze was gone and a frown now creased his brows.
"Mrs Edward tells me you've been restless lately, so I bought you this."
Her gaze shifted to the object he held up for her; a walking stick! She gasped at the sight of it.
"Here." He stepped forward, holding it out to her. Hesitantly, she took the curved silver handle of the stick and ran her fingers over the black wooden body. "It'll help you exercise your leg until you're able to walk without it."
Touched by his kind gift, tears filled her eyes. Indeed, no one had given her such a thoughtful gift in a long while; no one but her parents. Perhaps she had David to blame for her injury, but she knew he was remorseful, even if he didn't need to be. She had seen men treat women far worse than shoving them to the floor—she had seen some women come to an inch of their lives in the hands of men.
"Thank you, my lord," she whispered softly.
Tucking his hands in his pocket, he offered her a curt nod, before turning to leave the room.