She sat up in bed, her mind trying to comprehend what the boy was saying. “Samuel, what is wrong?” she asked. The only light came from what remained of the fire in the hearth, but she could make out the boy’s features well enough, and the frantic look he gave her made her jump from the bed.
She lit a candle and followed Samuel down the hallway, or rather the boy pulled her. Thunder drowned their footsteps in intermittent blasts, and Samuel squeezed her hand in fear with each loud rumble.
The Duke’s voice carried to her ears before they reached the door to his bedroom, and she stopped to listen.
“The fire! Elizabeth! The fire!” he was shouting.
Jane glanced down at Samuel, who wore a look of stark terror, his lower lip quivering.
“It is all right,” she said to the boy with as much calm as she could muster. “He is having a nightmare, nothing more.”
Samuel gave her a dubious look, and then the Duke cried out again. “Put out the fire!” The anguish in the man’s voice was enough to have Jane doing what she never would have imagined she would have done in normal circumstances. She entered his room.
Once inside, her jaw fell open, for the Duke did not appear to be asleep but rather was sitting up in his bed, his face panic-stricken.
“Father?” Samuel called out as tears streaked down his cheeks.
“There is a fire!” the Duke yelled. “You must leave!”
Samuel began to wail. “Father!” Then he turned to Jane and gave her a beseeching look. “Please! Help him!”
“Samuel, I need you to do me a favor.” When the boy nodded in agreement, she continued. “You must return to your room at once. Do not worry; I will help your father, and when I have calmed him, I will come to see you. Can you do that for me?”
Through his tears, Samuel nodded again and then turned and left the room, stopping long enough for one last look before rushing down the hallway.
Once she was certain Samuel was gone, she hurried to the bed and realized that the Duke was no longer yelling. Instead he was staring out her, a glazed look in his eyes. She went to speak, but his hand shot out. His grip was firm and heat radiated from his skin.
“Elizabeth, I am sorry,” he said in a loud whisper. “I am so sorry.”
She managed to remove his hand from her arm, with some resistance on his part, and then helped him lie back down in the bed. She reached out and placed a hand on his forehead and was shocked to find that he was burning up with fever.
“Michael,” she said when he tried to sit up again. “I need you to lie back down.” She pushed him gently back into the pillows and he did little to resist her.
“The fire. She is still inside.”
Jane’s mind spun as she considered what to do. It was much too late to call for a doctor. Plus, he would do little more than what she could do on her own. The first thing she needed to do was to lower his fever.
She hurried to where she knew the maids kept rags they used for cleaning and grabbed several. When she returned to the Duke’s room, she was pleased to find the pitcher was full of water, so she poured some into the bowl and carried it to the bedside table. Dipping one of the cloths into the water, she wrung it out and placed it on his forehead. His first reaction was to shy away from what had to feel like freezing water in his fevered state, but soon he allowed her to use another cloth to dab at his cheeks.
“The fire,” he moaned.
Jane was glad he was no longer shouting. “The fire is out, Michael,” she whispered as she wiped at his brow. “You are safe now, everyone is safe.”
Her words seemed to calm him and he settled into a restless sleep.
For several hours, Jane replaced the heated cloth from Michael’s forehead with a cooled one. From time to time, he would open his eyes and speak.
“Elizabeth, you came back to me,” he said at one point.
“All is forgiven,” Jane whispered back. “But you must rest. We will talk later of this.”
Then he would close his eyes once again and sink back into the pillows.
At one point, she realized that his sheets and pillow cases were soaked with his sweat, so she returned to the linen closet, took out new linens, and return to replace clean for dirty. It was not an easy task, but she had seen it done before. All she had to do was roll him over on one side, remove the wet sheet on that side and replace it with a clean one. Then she would roll him back over onto the clean sheet, remove the wet from the other side and pull the clean sheet tight. The task done, she returned to replacing the cloths.
“Do you forgive me?” he asked, though his eyes remained closed.
“Yes, Michael,” she whispered. “I forgive you.”
This time he seemed to accept her words, for he fell into a deep sleep. That is until he began to toss and turn once again. This time she unbuttoned his dressing gown and placed a cold cloth on his chest. The dressing gown was also now soaked, so she removed it. She had no idea where to find a clean gown, and he still had a significant fever, so she simply pulled the covers up over his unclothed torso.
Then began the fight with the covers. At one point, his body would shake so violently that she thought she would be thrown from the bed, and she would cover him with a second blanket. Then later, he would kick the covers off, complaining that he was much too hot. Time and again, the battle raged between him kicking off the blankets and him shivering and needing them replaced. However much she had to fight him, she continued with her careful ministrations, until, finally, he slept once again.
The light haze that came just before the rise of the sun crept into the room, waking Jane from a light sleep. She stretched and yawned, the small bones in her back cracking as she did so. When she glanced down at her patient, her breath caught in her throat—there was no rise and fall of his chest under the blankets.
“Michael?” she whispered, fearing the worst. When he did not respond, panic washed over her and she pulled the covers back and placed a hand on his chest. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt his heart beating within him, and she slowly moved the covers back up to his chin.
“Do not leave me,” he croaked, his hand trembling as he grabbed her wrist.
She easily removed his hand and placed it beneath the covers. “I will never leave you,” she said. “Never.” The thought of one day leaving this man, and Samuel, of course, made her chest constrict, and she wished the words could be true. However, she knew that, eventually, she must leave, for once Samuel was old enough to attend school, she would have fulfilled her responsibility of caring for him and would no longer be of use in the Blackstone home.
“Good,” Michael mumbled. “For I care for Jane and I believe she cares for me.”
Jane bit at her lip but knew the words the man said were the result of a fever and did not come from his heart.
“When she enters a room,” he continued, “it is as if the light I need enters with her. She makes me happy, Elizabeth; I hope you understand that.”
Tears fell as Jane reached up and brushed his hair from his brow. “Then I am glad you are happy,” she whispered.
A peal of thunder sounded in the distance; whether the remains of the night’s storm or the beginnings of a new one, she did not know.
“I do not know if I make her happy,” he mumbled, his face twisted in concern.
“You make her very happy,” Jane told him as she replaced the warm cloth for a cool one.
He said nothing more, and she returned the cloths to the basin. She had not yet spoken to Samuel, and the boy had to be sick with worry. When she arrived at his room, he was indeed awake, though his eyes were so heavy, it was a struggle for him to keep them open.
“Your father is better already,” she assured the boy. “He just needs to rest now from his nightmare.”
Samuel gave her a weak smile. “Thank you, Miss Harcourt,” he said before closing his eyes and immediately falling asleep.
Jane pulled the covers up to the boy’s chin and kissed his forehead.
“Bless you,” she whispered, glad he was now at ease.
When she returned to the Duke’s room, she found him mumbling words she was unable to hear. Leaning over, she put her ear close to his lips.
“Don’t leave me,” he said quietly.
Smiling, she took his large hand in hers and watched his shallow breathing, glad to see the movement under the covers once again. Whether the bond between them was that of only friendship, or of love, she did not know, but as the rain once again beat on the window panes, she knew that for at least this night, she would, in fact, not leave the man’s side.
Chapter Thirteen
Thick smoke filled his lungs as Michael held his young son to his chest. Covering the boy, he hurried through flames that singed his clothing, his hair, and even his skin. The boy screamed, but Michael was unsure if it was due to fear, pain, or the heat. He suspected it was all three.
Michael’s eyes watered and he squinted through the haze until he found an exit. His legs wobbled beneath him, threatening to give out, but he had his son to consider. So, with a roar, he pushed forward, using the last of his strength to break through the door and out into the cool night air.
It was a stark contrast to the flames behind him, and the shock made him shiver. He collapsed to his knees as Jenkins rushed over and took Samuel from Michael’s arms while Michael coughed and gasped in an attempt to force fresh air into his smoke-filled lungs.
Something shifted behind him and Michael pulled himself back up. He had to get back inside; Elizabeth was still there. However, before he could move even a foot forward, he heard a scream just as the roof tumbled down.
Michael’s body shook, his eyes flying open, and he realized he was back in his room, whispering apologies to Elizabeth. His heart soared when she whispered back, letting him know that all was forgiven.
Then he told her about Jane, for he could not allow himself to love another until Elizabeth allowed him to. That was what she did. In the coolness of her touch, she gave him permission to love another. That was his Elizabeth, always giving, always understanding. It was strange that a man who had become known as the Duke of Fire, a man who was believed to have killed his own wife, was so afraid of being alone. However, as his fear grew once again, it came to a halt when a small hand took his and held it, providing him the peace he so desperately needed. Thus, with that peace flowing through him, he slept.
Sometime later, he did not how long, his eyes flickered a few times, though he was still too weak to open them. His mind began to bring up images and feelings of the night before. He had felt the fever come over him, had felt his body ignite. And then? Then someone was whispering to him and caring for him.
He smiled. That person had been Jane. Yes, the governess had come to his side, comforting him and letting him know that all would be well.
Managing to open his eyes, his heart skipped a beat as he looked down at his bare chest. The very woman who had brought him comfort lay with a hand on his chest and her head cradled in the crook of her arm, her breathing slow and rhythmic. She still held his hand—it had not been a dream after all!—and he reveled in the closeness. She had kept her word and apparently had fallen asleep while watching over him.
Jane wore only her nightdress and he allowed his eyes to soak in all of her beauty, from her well-sculpted face to the contour of her sides. A longing burned within him, a longing to kiss the woman and hold her against him. He wanted to run his hands along her curves, to touch her soft skin. Yet, she was not his to be so intimate.
Carefully, he moved her hand and began to pull away from her. A small smile played on her lips, but she did not wake. Once he was free of her, his foot found the floor and he made an attempt to pull himself up. On wobbly legs, he stared down at Jane, and his mind was taken back to the last few weeks. He had kept his distance from her in an attempt to block not only his mind, but also his heart, to keep himself from falling in love with her. However, he now knew that those attempts had been futile. She had captured his attention in so many ways, and trying to deny it would not make those feelings go away.
He made his way around the bed, holding on to the posts to steady himself. When he reached Jane, he leaned over and moved her hair from her face.
“You are so beautiful, Jane,” he whispered, “and yet, you do not see it. But I do.”
For a short time he watched as she slept, until the first rays of weak light flooded into the room. The servants would already be starting their daily chores, and although most never ventured this far into the manor, he needed to wake her before Dalton came in. It certainly would not do to have his son’s governess found sleeping at his bedside, even if she had been his nurse for the night.
He was worried he would be much too weak to carry her from the room, but he would try nonetheless. She barely moved as he attempted to pull her into his arms. It took several attempts, but finally, he picked her up—she weighed very little—and made his way, stumbling, from the room.
Jane shifted and pressed her face to his chest. “I care for you, Michael,” she mumbled.
He shuddered lightly at her breath lightly moving the hairs on his chest. Perhaps he should have donned a shirt before attempting to move a half-clothed governess from his room. The thought of someone catching him in such a predicament made him chuckle, and he had to stop and lean against the wall halfway down the hallway before he could continue his trek to her room.
When he finally had her safely tucked under her blankets, he gazed down at her beauty. Surely no creature under the sun was lovelier than she. Leaning over, he wished to kiss her plump lips, but instead he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and then quietly left the room. He would allow her to sleep; Samuel’s lessons could easily be completed another day.
Heading back to his room, he began to prepare for the day ahead. Despite his exhaustion, he had too much work to complete to be abed. Plus, whatever had occurred during the night was now gone, and he would not allow it to get the better of him.
***
Michael walked down the garden path, Samuel at his side. At the end of the path was a gate, and he stood looking out over the large open field, his mind looking within at images of he and Elizabeth enjoying an afternoon riding horses and taking long walks together. Although Wellesley Manor had been their country home and not their main residence, they spent their first summer here enjoying the open air and the fresh, green grass. How he missed those days with her.
He closed his eyes and pictured her hair coming loose and flying behind her in the light breeze. He could almost hear the echoes of her laughter and the smell of her soap as they danced together in the wide-open expanse.
The gate creaked and Michael opened his eyes. Samuel had already run through and made his way toward the top of a nearby hill. Though the grass was still damp from the previous night’s rain, the hot sun was now out soaking up most of the moisture.
“Your Grace!”
Michael turned to see Jane hurry toward him, her skirts caught up in her hands so she would not trip over them. She stopped beside him, puffing breathlessly, her eyes red and the skin around her eyes puffy. It was clear she was still exhausted missing so much sleep the night before.
She put her hand on her side as if it ached her. “I apologize! I cannot believe I slept to such a late hour. Past one!” She clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Samuel has missed his morning lessons already, and for that I am sorry.”
Samuel came running back to them. “Miss Harcourt, do you want to see me roll down the hill?”
Michael ruffled the boy’s hair. “Go on ahead, Samuel. We will meet you there.”
The boy whooped and took off at a fast pace, not once looking back to see if they followed.
Once Samuel was out of earshot, Michael turned back to Jane, her gray eyes pulling him in as if they had some sort of magical ability. “Jane,” he said quietly, “I have told you before to call me Michael, have I not?”
She gave him a quizzical look, but it only lasted a moment
. “You did,” she replied, yet her words held a bit of skepticism.
“As to your tardiness, your rest was well-deserved. Thank you for last night; your words and…well, your words were comforting.”
Her cheeks turned a delectable shade of pink. Surely she remembered falling asleep in such an intimate position, or at least she realized that he had carried her back to her room.
“I am glad to see you feeling better,” she said. “However, I would advise you not to exert yourself too much today. In all honesty, you should be abed resting.”
He chuckled. “I suppose I should be, but I prefer to be out while the weather holds. Come, join me.” He offered his arm and she placed her hand on it without much hesitation. Then together they made their way up the small slope. Samuel laughed as he ran through the grass, his arms open wide so they skimmed the seedy tops of the grass stems.
When Michael sneaked a quick glance, he saw that Jane still suffered from a reddened face, and he kept back the questions he had been wishing to ask her concerning the previous night. Whatever had happened, he did not wish to embarrass her further. However, the need for him to tell her how much he cared for her burned inside him.
“Jane, I must ask something, if I may be so bold,” he finally said.
She gave him a simple nod just as they came upon a felled tree in a small clearing. Samuel was there with a stick, poking at the mud and muttering to himself words Michael could not hear.
Michael decided to continue with his question. “Most women your age have already found a man willing to marry them, or are actively searching for such a man. Why is it that you do not? Surely you have had lines of men vying for your attention.” She said nothing for a moment and he realized how forward his question sounded. “I was much too bold,” he said, looking at the ground. “Forgive me. It is not my concern.”
She turned toward him, her hands wringing in front of her. “Your question is not out of line; it is one my cousin Anne has asked me time and time again.” A smile played on her lips. “A few men have sought after me, but most of those men were already married, so you can imagine that I could not accept any suggestions of a relationship with them.”
Regency Hearts Boxed Set Page 11