A Most Dangerous Profession by Karen Hawkins

every word.
    He yanked off his gloves and examined her wounds, his heart sinking at the deep gash on her head. He tore a flounce from her gown and was wrapping it around her head when her eyes fluttered open.
    She blinked up at him, wincing as she turned her head.
    “Does it hurt?” he asked.
    “Like the devil,” she murmured, her hand pressing to her forehead.
    “There was a coach accident. Do you remember?”
    She closed her eyes. “No. I don’t—” She grimaced.
    “Does anything else hurt?”
    “Just my head, but it—” Her brows knit in pain.
    “Don’t move.” He looked above him at the open door. “
Leeds!
”
    Leeds’s stocky face appeared in the doorway overhead. “Aye, sir.” He caught sight of Moira. “Och, they’s a lot o’ blood, isna’ there?”
    “Yes,” Robert said tensely. “Is there a village nearby?”
    “Nay. A farmer stopped by and said there’s no town fer another ten miles, but the local squire’s no’ far off. Stewart’s gone there fer help.”
    “Bring my portmanteau from the coach. I’ve medicine in it.”
    “Yes, sir!” Leeds was gone in a trice, quickly returning with the portmanteau. He lowered it through the doorway to Robert.
    “How are the horses?”
    “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