“Association?” Dominic shook his head once in stunned surprise, knowing he sounded dense by keep repeating her sentences. “We were lovers Isobel!” He hated to be so blunt, but they couldn’t hide the fact that they had been far more than mere ‘associates’. He felt irked that she could so blithely put him into that category.
“I just don’t want to make things awkward for you. Your wife wouldn’t like me being here. This is your room, is it not?” Using every ounce of courage within her, she ignored his bristling anger, dropping her gaze to the coverlet across her knees. She began to pluck randomly at the soft material as she continued. “I am sorry for any discontent my presence here has already caused, if you could get my clothes I shall leave forthwith.”
Once again she tried to roll over, only to find herself firmly grasped by the shoulders and pushed backward until she was lying upon the bed. Reluctantly she gave in, and with a deep sigh flopped down on the sheets, exhausted.
“My what?” Dominic’s voice was deadly. His gaze captured and held hers, anger clearly evident on the harshness of his features. Everything within the lavishly decorated room seemed to pause. No sound could be heard other than the wheezing rattle in her chest.
“Y-your wife,” Isobel replied, trying hard yet failing to keep the quiver of hurt from her voice. She knew she should be angry, but couldn’t seem to find a way through the hurt that flowed through her veins like molten lava.
“My wife,” Dominic replied dully, staring at her while a growing lump of dread formed in his chest. “Who told you I had a wife Isobel?” He tried to keep control of the anger building within. He already knew the answer, but needed to hear it from her lips.
His heart jolted with surprise at her reply.
“Aunt Elspeth.”
“Elspeth?” His voice echoed incredulously. “Are you sure?”
Isobel sighed with impatience, and glared at him. Her voice rose to a high squeak as she glared up at him defiantly. “Of course, I am sure! What do you take me for? She told me she had received word from a friend in London, who had been – somewhere,” Isobel paused with a frown, but couldn’t locate the name in her memory. “She said the source was reliable. Her friend had informed her that a few weeks after leaving Willowbrook, you had travelled to your father’s estate in Berkshire, and wed your betrothed in the family chapel.”
Exhausted, Isobel slumped back against the pillow, her breath coming in shallow pants as she fought not to cough. Misery swelled in her chest as the familiar feeling of devastating loss swept through her. Pride prevented her from allowing him to witness just how miserable losing him had made her.
She desperately wanted to cry, to rail at him and beat his chest for his callous disregard of her. If only she had the strength. Instead, she lay there and cursed her weakness once again. Despite everything, she found herself at the mercy of a man who had cruelly hurt her, the last man on earth she wanted to witness just how dire her life had become.
“Isobel.” There was something in the tone of his voice that commanded her attention, and snapped her out of her melancholic thoughts.
Determined not to let her tears flow in his presence, she raised a frosty brow in his direction and waited.
“I.” He leaned over her menacingly. “Am.” He placed a hand on either side of her head. “Not.” His gaze locked upon hers. He slowly lowered his head until his lips were mere inches from hers. “Married.” He whispered as he placed a gentle kiss upon her stunned lips.
His mouth captured the soft cry she couldn’t withhold. His gentle fingers swept away her tears as his lips worshipped her tenderly with his lips and fingers, while she absorbed his words.
Could it be true? He was not married to another? When he did eventually raise his head to allow her to breathe, his eyes were full of tender reproach. “How could you believe that I have such little regard for you?”
“There is no baby?” Isobel whispered shakily, unable to believe her aunt could have been so wrong. Was she in cohorts with Rupert?
“There may be a baby when we are wed my darling,” he teased with a gentle smile, sitting beside her on the bed. “But until then, I can assure you that to my certain knowledge there is no wife, and no child.” Silence settled between them for mere seconds before his final words dropped like lead between them. “Not for me at least.”
In her fogged state, it took a few moments for the import of his words to sink in, and she looked at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”
He could think of no gentle way to raise the question that was burning inside him. “Did you marry Bertram DeLisle?” He couldn’t allow her to see just how much her answer meant, and ignoring her startled look moved to stand before the window with his back towards her. He was aware of the crackling tension within the room as his gaze roamed over the landscaped gardens blankly. All of his senses locked on her lying so temptingly on his bed. His nerves were stretched taut as he waited for her answer.
“Dominic, I promised I would wait for you,” Isobel eyed his tall frame highlighted so starkly by the sunlight shining through the window. The surrounding halo of light emphasised his broad shoulders and lean limbs to stunning perfection. “Nothing Rupert or DeLisle could threaten me with could coerce me into marriage to anyone.” Her voice sank to a whisper as the last vestiges of her strength began to wane. She desperately didn’t want to sleep yet she needed to continue the conversation. There was much to say, so much to discover, but somehow it became so incredibly difficult simply to keep her eyes open.
“Dominic,” she whispered softly as sleep began to pull her down. “I wouldn’t marry anyone else.” She was vaguely aware of him approaching the bed but her eyes were already closed when she felt the bed dip beneath his weight as he sat beside her. Her hand was gently clasped between his much larger ones. “I’m so very tired,” her whisper trailed away as she settled once again into slumber, feeling more secure than she had felt in a very long time.
“Rest on my love, we have all the time in the world,” Dominic declared softly, not sure if she had heard him. He surreptitiously wiped away the single tear that had gathered in the corner of his eye and gazed down at her for several moments. She was free, and that was all he needed to know.
“Thank God,” Dominic placed a tender kiss on her brow. “We will be together,” he moved to sit beside her, easing her slumbering form gently into his arms. Staring out of the window, he watched the soft flurry of snowflakes gently drift past and began to plan.
Sometime during the night, he was woken by a strange noise. Wincing at the sharp, stabbing discomfort in his stiff muscles as he sat upright, he warily glanced around the room trying to place the noise. It was a strange, almost like a rattling noise that whispered hauntingly through the still night air. Something he had not heard before. Quickly, he rose and crossed to the window, cursing fluidly at the heavy snowfall drifting past the window pane.
Drawing the curtains closed, he crossed to the fireplace and stoked the fire, shivering at the ferocious sound of the howling winds outside. By the sound of it the storm was a fierce one. He didn’t envy anybody caught outside on such a night.
Squatting before the fireplace he paused and considered just what implications a storm such as this would have had on Isobel had he not discovered her. Already she was seriously ill, without the freezing temperatures and dampness of the snowfall. She would have most certainly succumbed, even if she had managed to find a warm enough place to wait out the storm, what then?
He frowned as he listened for the strange noise again. It had stopped. He went cold all over when he realised what the noise had meant. Racing towards the bed, he frantically lit the candles on the table beside the bed, cursing fluidly as their meagre light encased Isobel in a soft halo of golden colour.
“Sweet Jesus,” Dominic whispered, his voice laced with horror as he studied her alabaster features. Placing a palm against her cheek, his concern rose alarmingly as his fingers touched her skin. It was like cold, damp marble.
She had indeed been sweating but now was so very cold, despite the warmth of the room.
“Isobel?” Tugging several times upon the bell pull, he paused briefly to light more candles before returning to the bed.
“Isobel, darling? If you can hear me, open your eyes.” He hated to acknowledge the fact, but he had witnessed a complexion like hers many times on the battlefields. Soldiers mortally injured had become pale and unresponsive moments before succumbing to the great Lord. Frantically grabbing her shoulders, he sought to awaken her as quickly as possible and shook her gently. He desperately needed to see her beautiful blue gaze once more.
“Isobel!” Shaking her shoulders far harder than he ought, he watched as her head fell back helplessly against the soft mound of pillow behind her. “Isobel, please?” His knew his voice was pleading. Carefully lying her back down on the damp sheets, he placed his hand in the hollow between her breasts. It took several moments before his blind panic eased enough for him to feel her faint heartbeat. “Thank God!” It was weak, but still there.
Seconds later, a soft knock upon the door heralded the arrival of a dishevelled Manvers. “My Lord?” he queried, his face stark.
“Go and fetch Mrs Holcombe. Isobel’s taken a turn for the worse!” Dominic’s voice was brusque. “Quickly man!” he snapped, carefully tugging the blankets around Isobel and sitting beside her on the bed. He didn’t quite know what he expected Mrs Holcombe to do, but she was wise and had readily helped tend to Isobel since her arrival with a calm matter of fact manner that had instantly eased Dominic’s fears.
Whenever anyone was ill in the house, family or staff, Mrs Holcombe always had a remedy that would set them on to the road to recovery. She would know what to do about Isobel now. Certainly, they would not be able to send someone to fetch the doctor until the snow eased. If the sound of the increasing winds rattling the window panes were any indication, that wouldn’t be any time soon.
Moments later, a dishevelled Mrs Holcombe appeared beside him.
“Please Mrs Holcombe, what do we do?” He hated sounding so helpless, but was at a loss to know how to help her. Sitting beside a mortally wounded soldier on the battlefields as he met his maker was different to sitting beside someone you loved, and helplessly watching them fight for their lives.
“Sir, we shall bathe her and change her clothes. We need to warm the room up.” She failed to add that she didn’t like the sound of the faint breaths coming from the unfortunate young girl who had clearly got a huge claim on the Master’s heart.
Dominic nodded and stood back, desperately running a hand through his hair as he watched and waited.
Over the past few days, Mrs Holcombe had become used to the Master’s unconventional manner towards the young Miss, and had given up arguing and trying to get him to leave to preserve the young lady’s modesty. Whatever happened, the young lady was well and truly ruined the first night she appeared in the house. But all of that paled to insignificance with the realisation that after such a prolonged and severe illness, it would be a blessing if she were still with them at the end of the ordeal.
Isobel was quickly changed into a warm, dry nightgown, and the sheets around her swapped for clean dry ones. The fire was stoked almost constantly until Dominic felt sweat break out on his brow as the temperature rose to unbearable heights. Isobel convulsed into wracking coughs, the like of which he had never heard before. On and on they went, until Dominic thought he would go quietly mad. Unable to bear sitting next to her doing nothing, he perched upon the bed and carefully pulled her into his embrace.
“Please darling, you need to try to relax,” he pleaded softly, kissing the damp tendrils of hair on her forehead. He nodded his thanks to Mrs Holcombe as he poured the tincture left by the doctor several days ago. “If you can hear me my love, you need to drink this.” He waited until the coughs eased enough to slip the spoon into her mouth, wincing as she coughed and spluttered against the liquid intrusion. He wondered briefly if she would throw up again, but after several moments she subsided once again into a fitful slumber.
“We need to send for the doctor Sir,” Mrs Holcombe stated calmly, not liking the green tinge of the lady’s complexion.
“We can’t send anyone out in this, it would be suicide to do so,” Dominic declared matter-of-factly. “Even if we could get someone to make the trip, the doctor wouldn’t risk a journey here no matter what I offered him.”
He cursed the atrocious weather, but knew he was going to go anyway. To sit and wait out the storm with Isobel in such a poor condition was simply unthinkable.
“I’ll go and get some different medication. If I describe her condition, he may be able to give us something to assist her.”
“But Sir -,” Mrs Holcombe was aghast at his proposition.
“I have to,” Dominic’s tone brooked no argument. He would go quietly mad if he had to sit around and wait for her to die. He had to do everything he could to help her.
Within moments, despite the vociferous protests of his most loyal serving staff, he had left the house.
The skies were brightening with the first glimpse of dawn when Dominic, shivering, exhausted and covered in snow, appeared at the kitchen doors of Havistock Hall. With growing dread he entered the house, praying silently that he wouldn’t be greeted by the news that Isobel had passed away while he was gone.
“Mrs Holcombe?” he raised a brow at Cook as he stalked through the kitchens.
“They are upstairs Sir, with the young Miss,” Cook replied, “I’ll bring some more broth -” She never got the chance to finish, the Master had already gone.
Dominic ignored the clumps of snow that fell from his cloak as he stalked through the house. His heart thumped heavily in his chest. He eased open the door and found himself assailed by a wall of heat. He quickly removed his cloak and boots on his way toward the bed.
He was disappointed to see no improvement in her condition. She still carried that same waxy completion, and the awful rattling in her chest was still alarmingly harsh in the silence of the room. He didn’t need to ask Mrs Holcombe if Isobel had woken while he was away.
Removing the new bottle of tincture from his cloak, within moments Isobel had her first spoon of the greenish liquid that smelled vile. Dominic shuddered as the stench assaulted his nostrils and he looked warily at the murky concoction, but he had been assured by the doctor it was what she needed.
He wasn’t surprised when Isobel coughed and spluttered. Merely smelling the stuff made his stomach churn. Still, if it helped to make her better, she would have to drink it. Dominic placed the bottle beside the bed with a shudder of revulsion.
Exhaustion swamped him as the ravages of the night began to catch up with him.
“I’ll get you some breakfast, Sir,” Mrs Holcombe stated quietly, weariness lacing her own voice as she moved to the door.
“Not for me Mrs Holcombe,” Dominic said, certain he would not be able to manage anything. “Get yourself some rest now, and thank you.” He shot the woman a grateful smile as she left and carefully took his place beside Isobel on the bed. Gathering her into his arms, he sighed a deep sigh of contentment, he settled into a sporadic sleep.
Whatever the day held in store for them, he would not be parted from her again.
Isobel slowly became aware of a strange murmuring around her. It seemed faint and hazy, as though the people talking were a long way away. If only she could make out what they were saying. She wondered if it was one of ‘those’ dreams again where Dominic came to her, but this time there was no swirling mist. She took a deep breath, wincing a little at the tightening band across her chest.
Feeling more comfortable and at peace than she had been for some considerable time, she lay there for several moments, and simply enjoyed the luxurious softness of the pillow behind her, and the scent of roses from the sheets surrounding her. She was lovely and warm, something she had not felt in such a long time.
As she lay simply revelling in contentment, she slowly be
came aware of a growing sense of unease. Vague menacing shadows and strange intimidating images flickered through her mind, filling her with an increasing discomfort.
Where was she? How long had she been there? Had she really been with Dominic?
Quickly, she opened her eyes, wincing at the bright daylight that permeated the room.
“Isobel?” Dominic’s wonderfully familiar voice was husky, and so very close.
Turning her head sideways, her gaze met and held his green gaze and she smiled softly at him.
“Thank God!”
She frowned at his heartfelt sentiment, and watched as he rested his forehead briefly upon the back of her hand as if in silent prayer.
“Dominic?” she croaked, aware that her voice was hoarse, and her throat dry.
“We nearly lost you,” he whispered, his voice laden with suppressed emotion.
“Lost me?” Isobel repeated in confusion, “but I am right here!”
Dominic remained silent.
“Where am I by the way?” she asked, her gaze taking in the graceful opulence of the room around her.
“At home, where you belong,” Dominic declared, placing a tender kiss upon the back of her hand. “Havistock Hall.”
Isobel frowned as random events flitted teasingly through her mind. She couldn’t be sure whether the events she could remember had indeed happened, or were in fact something her fuddled mind had wishfully created. She glanced warily down at her plain cotton night rail.
“How long have I been at Havistock Hall?” she whispered, biting her lip warily.
“Three weeks now,” Dominic replied, his face breaking out into a smile as her eyebrows shot up incredulously. She was so beautiful that he ached to look at her.
“Three weeks?” Her voice was weak, but her beautiful blue eyes were alive with astonished wonder.
Dominic nodded, stuck for words. The memory of the last few days was too raw and painful at the moment. “Your situation was poor -” was all he could say, and allowed the conversation to lapse between them briefly.
If You Were Mine Page 6