“I’m Puck,” Ophelia said proudly.

Harriet eyed her sisters for a moment. “While you’re down in the barn, why don’t you see if Jem needs help with the milk cows. He was going to move them to the eastern pasture today.”

Ophelia clapped her hands. “I’ll be a real shepherdess!”

“You can’t be a shepherdess for cows.” Sophia’s brow wrinkled. “You’re a…Hmmm. What would you be?”

Harriet dipped a scrap of linen into the water and wrung it dry. “What you would be—and are—is a pain. Now off with you both. And don’t come back until Jem says he’s done with you.”

Sophie nodded though she didn’t move away from the bed. She trailed her fingers over the edge of the blanket that covered their guest, her blond curls framing the dreamy expression on her face. “Don’t you think a kiss would be a perfectly lovely way to awaken a man? Just one touch of your lips to his and—”

“Sophia!” Ophelia cast a sharp glance at Harriet. “That’s enough.”

Sophia gave Ophelia a smug smile. “You’re just upset because you didn’t get to kiss him.”

Ophelia stiffened, her glasses sliding a notch down on her nose. “I would have if you hadn’t thrown yourself over him and practically smothered him until he coughed and—”

“He coughed?” Harriet asked, looking at Sophia. “I thought you coughed?”

Sophia tossed her hair. “He coughed a little. But I did not smother him. I mean…I suppose I might have leaned my elbow into his ribs a little. But only a little!”

Harriet closed her eyes. “You are both going to drive me mad. Go to the barn and help Jem.”

Reluctantly, the two left the room, defending themselves as they went. Harriet waited for them to leave, then she closed the door.

Stifling a sigh, she approached the bed and looked down at the patient. He seemed sound asleep, no movement on his face, his breathing even and deep. “Sophia’s being melodramatic.” Harriet took the cloth she’d dipped in the water and sat on the edge of the bed.

If he’d been handsome before, he was dangerously handsome now that he’d been cleaned up a bit. She frowned again. Was he really asleep? She tilted her head to one side, leaned over and peered closely at him, her nose only an inch from his.

Nothing happened. She breathed a little harder, letting her breath fan over his mouth. Again, nothing happened. His breathing never altered, his lashes didn’t tremble, nothing.

Oh, for heaven’s sake, what am I doing? If he was awake, he would open his eyes, ask for something to eat, want to know where his horse was—something other than lie there dead to the world.

Relaxing a bit, Harriet straightened, though she found herself smoothing back the man’s hair. Thick and soft to the touch, the black waves slid through her fingers. He remained deeply asleep, his lashes on the crest of his cheeks, his lips slightly parted…

Harriet looked at his mouth. Heaven had never made such a perfect pair of lips. Never.