Braithwaite cleared his throat, then reached for his bag which he held with both hands in front of him. “Sir, this woman has a nasty injury that may include damage to her brain. These things…” He shook his head. “These things are unpredictable.”
Will felt his jaw tighten, his eyes burn in tired irritation. “You’re saying that as a surgeon you can do nothing for her?”
“I’m saying,” the doctor answered without any defensiveness or annoyance on his part, “that any healing must be done by her own body. Physically she is strong and healthy otherwise. That is in her favor. But I would suggest this: She will either wake up or she will not, and there is nothing you or I can do to change whatever outcome it will be. If she’s to awaken at all, it will likely be in the next few hours. If not, she will slowly starve to death in the next few days. In that event, there is nothing you can do but attend to her comfort and keep her warm.”
Will swallowed, feeling a slow tearing of his heart at the seams. “I see,” he whispered.
Braithwaite cocked his head to one side, eyeing him cautiously. “Your grace, I’m sorry I can’t do more, but the healing of the brain is delicate and not, I’m afraid, understood. If there is positive news, it’s that she has a good-size lump. That means there’s swelling on the outside, less pressure on the inside. If she awakens, I would give her only broth, tea, and toast for the first two days. She may not want that, but it will help with her strength. She will most probably be in pain for several days as well. I will suggest laudanum for the discomfort, but do not give her too much or it could force her into unconsciousness again. She must sleep on her own to recover, but not so deep that she cannot be awakened.”
“As she is sleeping now,” he maintained.
“Yes.”
After a few seconds of steady silence, Will inhaled sharply and nodded once to the man. “Thank you for being candid, doctor.”
Braithwaite almost smiled. He lifted one hand and rubbed the oiled edge of his mustache. “I will be at home should you need me.”
“Thank you.”
The doctor clicked his heels and bowed once, then, with leather bag in hand, strode to the door. As he opened it, he glanced back over his shoulder.
“I wish you all the best, your grace.”
Without waiting for response, the doctor took his leave, closing the door softly behind him.
For hours, it seemed, Will stared at the Oriental carpet beneath his feet and didn’t move from his spot in front of the fire. He felt nothing emotionally—no hope, no happiness, no sense of good. It was all too much, too much. Everything had happened too fast.
And then as his eyes drifted upward and focused on Vivian, lying helpless in his bed, at his mercy yet healing only by God’s good grace, Will sensed a vulnerability surrounding them that he’d never experienced before. It squeezed his chest tight, and sent his head reeling.
Gasping for air of a sudden, he went back to her, sitting awkwardly in the rocker. He could hear her slow, rhythmic breathing just above the lingering rain and the gentle crackle of the fire. All else remained silent, and it felt to Will as if there was no one else on earth. No reality but this one. Nobody but them.
His throat constricted as he inhaled shakily. He reached forward and pulled one of her hands out from beneath the coverlet. Tenderly he ran his thumb across her soft knuckles, marveling at the beauty of her pale, smooth skin. Then he folded both of his hands around it, enclosing its small form in his larger palms. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on the bed and closed his eyes.
“Don’t die, Vivian,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Please don’t die. I need you. I need you…”
After a time, he turned his head to the side and rested again, though he never let go of her hand. Sleep must have overcome him once more, for sometime later, he awoke sharply.
Night had fallen and the rain had stopped. Will sat up abruptly, feeling a marked foreboding that wasn’t there before. He shivered as he glanced first to the grate, noting that the fire still burned adequately and had now sufficiently warmed the room. Then, still holding her hand, he looked down at Vivian.
The site of her watching him with open, glazed eyes startled him almost physically. For a few seconds of sheer panic he thought she had died. And then he saw her blink and a rush of raw emotion overwhelmed him.
Shaking, he faintly squeezed her hand. “Forgive me for doubting you, my darling Vivian,” he murmured to her motionless form. “Please forgive me, forgive me…”
In a raspy voice barely heard, she breathed, “I love you, Will…”
He could not handle the warmth and joy that instantly sealed his heart. He wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but as she closed her eyes once more, a single tear reflected the fire behind him as it slid to her temple.
Reaching over, he kissed her lashes, lingering there, feeling the sweet wetness on his lips as he whispered against her, “I love you, too…”
Chapter 23
Vivian felt as if she were living in a daze. One moment she would awaken to find Will leaning over her, speaking softly to her in words she couldn’t quite understand, the next minute he would be there attempting to spoon something into her mouth. She’d gagged, but swallowed, testing very little, though she thought it might be beef broth. Sometimes she heard voices, others in the room, speaking in low tones, once in a while one of them giving her laudanum, which she took wholeheartedly for the splitting pain in her head. Then she would sleep again, only to awaken to find it dark and silent save for a fire always lit in the grate. But Will never left her side, which even in her confused state of mind, she realized to be the most comforting and safe feeling she’d ever experienced in her life.
She was fairly certain she remembered most everything that had happened to her after Steven took her from her home—being held captive at the cottage, Will and two other men coming to her rescue, Steven holding the knife against her neck, and then his slamming her head against the stone wall. After that things had become fuzzy in her mind. She didn’t remember their ride back to Morning House at all, or how she ended up nude in Will’s large bed. But she did, absolutely and with a melting heart of elation and pure contentment, remember when she had seen him for the first time after waking from her deep slumber, his tired features drawn with grief and worry, him kissing her tear as he said he loved her. She would never forget that moment, the moment when she realized that the tribulation that had brought them together had truly ended. Since then she’d slept on and off, sipping tea as she was told, trying not to move too much or too fast because it made her head ache. Twice, a young servant girl had entered and helped her use the chamber pot that had been placed under the bed. Finally, gradually, the disorientation cleared as the pain slowly dissipated, and the times she stayed awake began to grow longer.
Now Vivian lay on her back in his bed, wearing one of her own cotton nightgowns. Today had been the first time she’d felt able to ask for a bath, to clean her teeth, and just a short while ago, another servant, an older woman this time, granted her request at once and returned with three young girls carrying a brass tub, buckets of water, soap, towels and a toothbrush and powder. It took them nearly forty-five minutes to help her bathe and don her nightgown again, and in the end the ordeal had exhausted her, but she felt marvelous when they finished and left her once more, in bed, with the warmth of the burning coals in the grate to dry her washed hair and a fresh dose of laudanum to help ease the pain during the night to come. Alone for the first time, it seemed, noting that the shutters were drawn signifying nightfall, and that the room had grown dark save for the glow of the low-burning fire, she found herself able to study Will’s personal bed chamber for the first time.
Accented with old mahogany wood of intricate carvings, the room favored him uniquely. The area seemed spacious to her, from the rather large bed with footboard and sideboards padded in burgundy velvet, to the high chiseled ceiling painted in squares of contrasting woodsy green and brown. The papered walls
were covered with a foliage design that more or less matched the coverlet, and a pale green carpeting enhanced the dark, wooden floor, over which he’d laid two or three small oriental rugs for contrast. He had little furniture aside from the worn, padded rocker sitting next to the bed, a dressing table and wardrobe that stood very near his dressing room, and one full length mirror in a frame of carved mahogany placed in the corner next to the grate. His fireplace mantel, although made of the same dark wood, was entirely bare, as was the wall over it, around which, she noticed with some puzzlement, the paper had faded as if a large painting or portrait had once hung there, not replaced.
Vivian supposed the chamber was cozy enough, and certainly masculine, but it did seem to her as if it missed a certain… personal touch. In fact, as she thought about it now, the entire house seemed to be decorated with an unusually impersonal flair. Except for the library. She had known from the moment she’d entered that room, with its connecting conservatory, that it was the only place in Morning House where Will enjoyed spending his time and making it his own.
Before she could begin to contemplate such an interesting conjecture, the door from the hallway creaked open and Will entered at last, drawing her gaze immediately with his formidable stature. Half-smiling, she sighed. She had truly fallen in love with a remarkable man.
He grinned slightly when he noticed her watching him.
“How do you feel?” he asked, closing the door behind him.
“Better. My head still hurts,” she replied, her voice somewhat weak.
Slowly, he walked toward her and sat at the foot of the bed, rubbing his hands over the coverlet, beneath which her legs were stretched. “Can I get you anything?”
She smiled broadly at that. “You’re like a nanny already.”
He shrugged good-naturedly. “Anything to help you recover, my dear Lady Vivian.”
Watching him closely, she took note of the fire reflecting off his dean, smooth skin, the way his hair fell over his forehead and brushed against his brow.
“How long have I been here?” she asked softly.
“Nearly five days.”
She paused, then scolded, “You shouldn’t have brought me to your personal chamber. I should not be in your bed, your grace.”
Never dropping her gaze, he drew in a long breath, then leaned back on the bed, resting on his elbows. “Frankly, there’s no other place more appropriate than my bed.”
That unnerved her a little. “People will talk, and the longer I am here—”
“Nobody knows you’re staying in my bed chamber save for the doctor and my staff, and I fully trust they’ll tell no one. I pay them well enough. As far as anyone else is concerned, they’ll all simply think you’re staying in my care in a guest room, as your housekeeper does who brought your clothes two days ago at my summoning.”
Unable to counter his argument for the time being, Vivian stretched a little and pushed her hands up under her pillow, cradling her head. “As usual, you’ve thought of everything.”
Turning on his side, he laid his cheek in his palm, tracing his fingertips along the coverlet, eyeing her with soft speculation. “When you are well— completely well—we’ll discuss where we go from here.”
Where we go from here…
Her stomach churned suddenly, and she wasn’t al-together sure it was from hunger. She was married, would always be married to a selfish, indulgent man, and scandal would ruin her. But she wanted to avoid any serious discussion until she could really think with clear and focused considerations. Changing the subject, she asked hesitantly, “Were you the one to dress me?”
He grinned wryly and murmured, “No, but I was the one to undress you.”
Vivian felt her face flush with keen embarrassment. Although it was perfectly true that they’d been lovers, he’d never seen her naked; no man had, in fact, for years. “Well?” she asked a bit defensively.
He chuckled. “You’re still here; I’m still here. I couldn’t have been too shocked or disappointed.”
She pulled her arms from beneath the pillow and folded her hands together on her stomach as she stared at the ceiling. “So I suppose you liked what you saw,” she said rather flippantly.
Unexpectedly, he crawled up beside her on top of the covers, wrapped one leg over hers, one arm over her chest, and snuggled his face into her neck. With his lips, he pulled teasingly at the strings of her nightgown.
“I liked it plenty,” he whispered against her jaw, tickling her with his nose.
She giggled, then immediately touched her forehead with her fingers. “It still hurts when I move too much.”
He scooted into her as close as he could without covering her body completely. “Sleep,” he ordered tenderly. “I want you to recover so I can see you naked again. The wait is driving me mad.”
Vivian cuddled against him, placing a palm on his rib cage, running her fingers along the lines of his fine silk shirt. He made no effort to move away from her, and so she closed her eyes to the peacefulness and comfort of him, listening to his steady breathing until she drifted off once more.
Chapter 24
“I need you…”
Through a misty haze he could hear her voice, see her beautiful face, even smell the trace scent of roses as his mind worked furiously to distinguish the reality from the vision. Then he felt her warm lips on his mouth and he slowly opened his eyes.
“Vivian?”
She smiled down at him from above, her long hair softly brushing against his neck and cheeks.
“You were expecting someone else?” she asked in a husky whisper.
Will blinked, confused for a second or two, and then she kissed him again, a bit more persuasively this time, lingering at his lips.
He had fallen asleep beside her, he suddenly realized, though now he remembered that he’d removed his shirt first and pushed his way under the covers where he could be next to her. It still had to be the dead of night; the room remained very dark, though the fire still burned enough for him to see her lying next to him.
“I didn’t think you were real,” he whispered against her mouth, bringing his hands forward to cup her head gently.
“I didn’t think you were really here when I woke up either,” she replied as she placed her warm palms on his bare chest. After a moment of staring into his eyes, she said timidly, “I never did thank you properly for saving my life.”
He felt the onslaught of his guilt again for leaving her with a madman, for distrusting her intentions. “Vivian, don’t thank me. I’m so sorry—”
“Shh…” She pressed two fingers against his lips to silence him. “You were marvelous,” she whispered. “I needed you and you were there for me. Never fear that you will always be the greatest man I have ever known, my darling, Will.”
He gazed into her tempting eyes, his throat closing with emotion as he embraced her fully, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against him.
“Did he—touch you?” he asked, his breath catching.
She sighed a little, though she didn’t look away. “Would it matter to you if he had?”
He thought about how to answer her as she watched him, her slight frown conveying a hint of trepidation. With conviction, threading his fingers through her hair to hold her steady, he maintained, “Nothing that happened to you in the cottage would ever change my feelings for you, Vivian. You’re a brave woman beyond compare. But I don’t want to hurt you physically if he—”
She kissed him again, cutting him off. “He didn’t,” she said against his mouth, her tone low and assuring as she began to rub her fingertips over his chest.
His relief, her nearness, tender caress, and inviting warmth were all starting to melt his resolve. “Vivian, you need to rest.”
She chuckled very softly, pulling up to look into his eyes again. “I’ve been resting for five days. What I need more right now is you.”
He groaned. “And your head?”
“It throbs a little,” she answered
honestly. “But my feminine desire aches more at the moment.”
He couldn’t believe she said that aloud, and suddenly he was hard and aching as well. “I suppose I can’t deny you,” he admitted wryly.
She sat up a little, grinning as she began to untie her nightgown at the neck. “Would you like to see me naked again?”
Growing serious once more, he replied, “I want to feel you naked, my love.”
Her eyes flashed a bit in surprise at his candor, the intensity of his inflection. Then she drew in a shaky breath and whispered huskily, “And I want to feel you deep inside of me.”
Will stared at her lovely face so sincere of expression as it reflected a trace of remaining firelight. He ran his thumb over her cheek, her mouth, before he faintly touched what remained of the bump on her forehead. Then in softness, he pulled her head down to meet his.
He kissed her delicately at first, their bodies remaining motionless as they held each other in a simple embrace. She slowly responded to his touch, her palms sliding from his chest to his neck, her fingers playing lightly through his silky hair as she parted her lips for him to deepen their kiss.
Will gently forced his tongue into her warm, sweet mouth, playing with and teasing hers as she followed his lead in kind. With rising abandon, she scooted closer into him, nearly covering him, her breasts against his chest, one of her legs crossed over his hips, surely feeling his erection restrained tightly in his pants. It was time to get undressed.
Will placed his palms on her waist and gently lifted her, turning her over on her back as his tongue continued to dart in and out of her mouth, lightly flicking over her lips, first the top, then the bottom, then going deep again to grasp hers and suck. She placed her hands on his shoulders while he went to work on the ties of her nightgown, unlacing them quickly so that her bare breasts nearly came free. Finally, he sat up a little as he pulled the cotton fabric up from her legs, past her hips and stomach while she helped lift it over her head and off.
Duke of Sin Page 24