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rather—rather an extreme action to take” was all that she could manage.
    She suddenly realized she had sat up in her shock, allowing the concealing bedclothes to fall away, and she wore only a thin nightgown. Yet it would seem very cowardly to crawl back between the sheets now.
    She reached for her shawl and draped it around her shoulders, pulling it about her to cover herself more modestly. Not that he hadn’t seen everything there was to see already—the thought made her blush even harder.
    â€œExtreme or not, it is the only thing we can do,” he told her, his tone steady. “I must insist that you allow me to offer you the protection of my name, Miss Applegate—Madeline.”
    Her name sounded so natural on his lips. She found the sound of it so enticing that she hesitated too long, and he seemed to take her silence as assent.
    â€œWe could have the first reading on Sunday, and—”
    â€œNo, no, didn’t you hear what I said?” she broke in. “I cannot leave my father alone!”
    â€œMadeline, do not fear, I will never make you leave your father if you do not wish it,” he said, his tone patient.
    What kind of husband would allow his wife to linger in her father’s house?
    â€œAre you planning to reside here as well?” she demanded. Was he hiding out? Was he wanted for some crime? None of this made sense; there had to be something he was not telling her. In fact, hadn’t he said there was some other part that he had to explain? Oh, if only her head would stop hurting so that she could think!
    She put one hand to her right temple, pressing the spot where the deepest ache lingered as if she could push back the pain that refused to leave her. Becoming agitated would only make it worse, but it was hard to relax when this handsome stranger was ready to rearrange her future with such alarming alacrity.
    His expression sympathetic, Lord Weller watched. “Don’t fret about it now, Madeline. Lie back. Let me massage your temples. It might help the pain in your head.”
    The thought of those long, supple fingers touching her tormented head made a curious shiver run up her back, and if she were not feeling so wretched…
    â€œOh, I couldn’t,” she demurred, but he had already lifted her shoulders to move the pillows behind her head and before she could argue further, he had laid her flat on the bed and was smoothing her hair across the linen sheets. Did this man always get his way? When she was herself again, she would tell him.
    â€œShut your eyes,” he was saying now, his voice soft. “Try to let it all go, let your thoughts fly away. There is nothing to trouble you, Madeline my dear, all will be well.”
    He said it with such authority, she could almost believe it would be so. And yet it was all nonsense, it must be, she argued with herself silently. Even that quarrelsome voice inside her mind faded as he touched her head.
    She jumped, she couldn’t help herself, but then the touch of his strong hands—at once pleasing and oh so soothing as he stroked her temples with a light but sure touch, then down her shoulders and over her forearms, up and down, back up to her shoulders and up into the hollows of her neck, kneading the sides of her neck until the hard knots wrought by her tension loosened.
    Maddie felt as if she might dissolve into the bedclothes and slip away, yet she couldn’t wish for that, either, because she could not bear to lose the wonder of his touch….
    It was such an intimate sensation, his hands moving easily over her neck, his warmth adding to her own, his sun-bronzed skin and slightly roughened fingers against the softer skin of her throat—she found her whole body reacting to his closeness. An unfamiliar tingling woke deep in her belly and she found her breath coming more quickly…and the headache did indeed seem to fade a little into the background. It was still there, but