The Master Of Strathburn by Amy Rose Bennett

now simply clad in breeches and shirt. The wet, almost transparent linen clung to the broad expanse of his well-muscled chest, impossibly wide shoulders and sizeable biceps. She recalled the feel of their steely strength when he’d carried her, and how it had felt to be pressed against his hard, warm body with his arm around her on the ride here. She blushed again at the memory.
    Stop staring like yer daft, Jessie Munroe. Say something. ‘Aye, I b-b-believe you, sir,’ she forced out between her chattering teeth.
    ‘You mean, Rob,’ he said, his wide mouth tilting into an appealing grin, his even teeth a flash of white against the stubble darkening his tanned jaw.
    ‘R-Rob,’ she conceded, attempting to smile back. His charm was infectious. And dangerous. She attempted to pull the blanket more firmly around herself to still her shaking, but winced as a hot knife of pain sliced through her arm.
    Rob noticed her discomfort immediately. He frowned with what appeared to be genuine concern. His next words however, sparked alarm. ‘Jessie, you’re going to have to get out of your wet things and let me take a closer look at your injuries.’
    She shook her head emphatically. ‘N-n-no. If I sit b-by the fire I’ll b-be all right.’
    ‘No you won’t. You’re suffering from shock and exposure and I have no idea how much blood you’ve lost from the wound in your arm. I think the bullet only grazed you, but I need to be sure. You need to get dry and warm and bandaged up properly.’ He said this with such quiet, serious assurance that Jessie knew he spoke sense. But she was not going to undress in front of him, a complete stranger. A dangerously attractive man .
    He seemed to guess the reason for her reluctance. ‘I’ll leave you here to change. Would you like some help to the chair or the bed?’
    Certainly not the bed . Jessie shook her head and sat up a little straighter. ‘N-n-no thank-you. I think I will be able to manage.’
    Rob’s eyes narrowed slightly but he inclined his head. ‘As you wish. Your satchel is on the chair behind you and there’s a linen towel, dry shirt and plaid at the foot of the bed.’
    As soon as the door clicked shut, relief washed over Jessie and she released the breath she’d been holding. She knew she should do as Rob had suggested. And seeing all the items he had laid out for her, she couldn’t help but be touched by how thoughtful he was. She decided then and there that she would take him at face value, that he was just trying to help. Not every man was like Simon.
    She slowly got to her feet. Although she still felt slightly unsteady and she could barely take any weight on her ankle, she didn’t think she would pass out. Dropping the already damp blanket along with her sodden cloak in the puddle at her feet, she limped to the bed to begin the painful process of undressing without assistance.
    One thing at a time, Jessie . She sat on the wooden chest and with the towel, dried her face, neck and hair as best she could; somewhere along the way, she’d lost her ribbon and her curls were a snarled, dripping mess. Bending down, she then tried to remove her remaining boot, but even that simple act left her feeling dizzy with pain. Her frustration ratcheted even higher when she discovered the ribbon garters securing the tops of her stockings were hopelessly knotted. Her trembling fingers could not prise them undone no matter how hard she tried.
    The task of removing the rest of her soaking wet clothes suddenly seemed beyond her. Untying her gown’s laces would be impossible to manage one-handed. She raised a shaking hand to the back of her bodice, but as she suspected, her efforts were ineffectual. Tears of frustration pricked behind her eyelids.
    A light tap on the door made her jump.
    ‘You m-may come in.’ She tried to hastily brush away her tears as Rob entered. He frowned when he saw her, though whether it was because of her tears or inaction, she couldn’t have said. He’d