by Dawn Brower
Alys bolted upward. “Oh my God… Regina’s going to murder me.”
“Miss, you really should lie down. You had quite an adventure from what I’ve been told.”
Alys turned her head—a mistake, as the sledgehammer hit the base of her skull harder than a ton of bricks. Her hand flew to her temple and she winced in pain. She needed her purse. Inside, she would find a bottle of pain pills. A couple—or ten—would dull what could only be a headache.
A flash of memory floated through her mind. Had she kissed Bradford? Lord help her, the ass would hold that over her head for sure. When had she managed to imbibe so much alcohol? At least Regina didn’t have her destination wedding in Vegas.
With Alys’s luck, she’d have somehow managed to do more than merely kiss Bradford.
This was so embarrassing...
Through hooded eyelids, she gazed over at the woman who had spoken. “Who are you?”
More importantly, why was she dressed in a uniform maids wore two hundred years ago? Regina had taken things a bit far with her themed wedding. Having the hired help wearing period accurate clothing was a tad ridiculous.
The woman curtsied. “You can call me Bessie.”
“Right.” Seriously? “Bessie, have you seen my purse?”
What if she was a thief? Since when do maids traipse into private quarters? They were taking this role playing to extremes. Alys scanned the room and sucked in a deep breath. This was not her room. Whose room was she in? And what had she done? She patted her side and groaned, again. The only clothing she wore was her panties—what had happened to her bra? How far had things gone with Bradford?
Please, please, let the answer be “not very far. “
“Purse?” Bessie scrunched her eyebrows up, puzzled. “I’m not certain what you mean.”
“A large purple bag about this wide.” Alys held her hands out a foot apart. “And equally as long. There is a bunch of small crystals decorating the flap.”
“Oh yes, I know where that is. It’s in the armoire.” Bessie pointed to a tall piece of furniture against the wall near the doorway. “Your dress is inside as well. I am a bit confused about your undergarments. Where is your shift?”
Alys gasped. “You undressed me?”
“Yes, miss.” She nodded. “It was necessary for the doctor to get a good look at you. That was a nasty fall you took.”
Her mouth fell open at the maid’s words. Bessie acted as if undressing her was normal. It was so…wrong. It took several seconds for all of what she said to register in her mind. Aly’s gaze flew to hers. This invasive servant had a lot to account for. First things first, what had actually happened?
“Fall?” Alys raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“On the beach. His Grace found you last night and carried you inside.”
Alys vaguely remembered falling, but that couldn’t be right. If she fell off the cliff she would be dead, not just badly bruised. Bradford found her there though—she would have to apologize and thank him. She’d thought he was nothing but a lecherous rogue. Apparently he had a good heart if he was willing to carry her such a distance.
“I’m sorry...Bessie, was it? Did you say a doctor looked at me?”
“He did. He said you needed some rest.” She inclined her head, briefly. “Are you hungry? I can have a tray sent up.”
“Oh, that would be lovely, and would you please bring me my bag?” she repeated, hoping she would retrieve it as she’d previously asked. “I need it.”
Pain relief was required...sooner rather than later. Rest was good and all, but it wouldn’t make the unrelenting ache go away. She had some ibuprofen in her bag that would help with the inflammation and ease her discomfort.
“Certainly” The maid rushed over to the armoire and opened it. She lifted the purse out, carried it over to Alys, and set it on the bed beside her. “Here you go, miss. I will go and see to your breakfast.”
“Wait,” Alys called out to her.
Bessie stopped. “Yes?”
“Where is my suitcase?” She needed to get dressed. Alys did not want to don the bridesmaid dress again. She’d kill for a pair of comfy yoga pants and a loose T-shirt. “I need something to wear.”
She dipped her head. “Do you wish to dress for the day?”
Was she simple-minded? Alys stared at her, at a loss on how to proceed. Bessie appeared to be really into her role. Maybe it was just best to play along. “Yes, can you retrieve my stuff? I can’t lounge in bed all day. I have to get home.”
Alys had a plane to catch. She could convalesce at her leisure in her own apartment in Baltimore. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t in her nature to take it easy. She’d be running off to work as soon as she set foot back in Maryland. Her sister’s wedding had derailed her life long enough. Alys only had a few more months left of her residency at Johns Hopkins—she’d been promised a fellowship if she finished.
“I’m sorry, miss. I don’t know where your,” she paused and studied her a few seconds, “stuff is. All you came with was the bag you are holding and the clothes you wore. If you’d like help dressing, I can assist you.”
What? She had to be joking. Her carry-on bag was in another room. Alys sighed. She would have to put on the stupid dress and go in search of it. “No,” she waved her hand, dismissing her, “I don’t need help putting the dress on. Thank you for the offer though.”
Bessie curtsied, again. Why was this woman being so formal? Alys stopped short of rolling her eyes. The game was getting old. It had to end at some point. “I will be back shortly so you can break your fast. May I ask if you’d prefer chocolate or tea?”
Chocolate? For breakfast? “Do you have coffee?”
“I don’t believe so...”
They didn’t have coffee? How barbaric, and so, so wrong. But this was the English for you. They sure did love their damned tea. Good thing she didn’t mind it. “I will take tea—very strong tea. Please don’t bring up any weak or tepid stuff.”
The maid nodded and hurried out of the room.
When she got dressed, she’d track Bradford down and give him a piece of her mind. How could he not have coffee? She’d go easy on him—but only a little bit. He did save her after all. Alys could forgive him for not having something proper to drink in the morning, though she’d much rather wish him to hell.
Alys opened her purse and laughed. Why had she put her shoes inside? Well at least she hadn’t lost them—they’d cost a fortune. A pair of three thousand dollar Christian Louboutin, crystal-encrusted, shark tooth pattern shoes; she’d fallen in love with them immediately. The price tag hadn’t mattered since they were a gift. Seemed a bit fitting too—she wanted to take a bite out of her sister’s hide, but had to rein in her sharp teeth. Alys set the shoes aside, she didn’t know if she was up to wearing them yet. Pills, she needed them.
She rummaged through her purse and found her bottle of ibuprofen. The sooner she swallowed the pill, the quicker her body aches would lessen. Alys tossed the bottle back inside and shoved it across the bed. At least she could get dressed in private. Bessie had said her clothing was in the armoire—lucky for her it was. She picked up her mint green bra and winced as she clicked the back closed. With the straps in place she let out a deep breath.
“Well, the hard part is done—now for the damned dress.” Alys pulled the emerald green dress out of the closet and slipped it on. She tied the ribbons at the bodice closed.
Now to find Bradford...
Only one problem—without shoes, her dress dragged on the floor. Alys bit her lip and looked over at the bed, her pretty shoes sparkling in a stream of sunlight. Why did she have to be so damned short? As much as her body ached, she couldn’t risk wearing them. It was better to leave her dress dragging. Besides, what did she care if she ruined it? Not like she planned on wearing it again—ever.
Alys opened the door to hunt down the lord of the manor. He had a lot of explaining to do. Like what happened to her when he found her on the beach—and
if he had a part in her ending up there. When she stepped into the hall she stopped short.
Why does this look so different?
There was no modern lighting. Candle holders sat on tables, and sconces had unlit candles on the wall. How had she missed that before? She should pay better attention to her surroundings. Everything looked so strange to her now—out of place—or maybe out of time. She shook her head, what a silly idea. Out of time—how would one get lost in time anyway? The furnishings were rather antique looking though. To think Bradford had called Regina’s wedding theme archaic when he kept such outdated lighting in this part of his home.
Alys’s immediate question—where was he hiding in this mausoleum he called home?
She took a few steps and stopped at the next room. The door was ajar, so she peeked inside. It was a more masculine version of her chambers. A large four-poster bed sat in the middle, draped in deep red coverlets embellished in an antique gold. She scanned the area, but no one seemed to be inside. Alys couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps it was Bradford’s private quarters. Maybe that’s why she ended up in a different room. He’d wanted to dispose of her immediately and go to his in peace. Would make sense, Bradford, in her experience leaned toward self-serving. If it benefited him, he might be willing to offer his assistance.
Alys strolled farther inside, drawn to the large window on the other side of the quarters. She halted in front of it and skimmed her hand against the lush curtains. They matched the bed’s coverlet. Whoever decorated the bedroom had exquisite taste.
“What are you doing in here?” A deep masculine voice echoed through the chamber.
Alys spun on her heels and met Bradford’s gaze. “I was looking for you.”
He frowned. “Were you now?”
“Yes, I think we need to talk.”
Why was he looking at her like that? Wait, why was he still wearing his wedding attire? Well, actually he’d lost some of it. All he wore was a billowy white shirt, open at the nape and tucked into his breeches. He looked—different. Something was off, but Alys couldn’t pinpoint it. She would worry about it later though.
“This isn’t the place for a lady, but you’re correct. We should have a discussion.” He gestured to the door. “Perhaps we can continue this conversation in the sitting room. You had a horrible ordeal, and I’m sure it’s stressful to be out of bed. Please, come with me where you can sit comfortably.”
“Why are you being so...stuffy?” She stared into his eyes. “And proper, you are never proper.”
His whole body stiffened at her words. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re acting like we’ve never met. I’ve never known you to be so damned formal before.” She tilted her head and studied him. “What happened to you?”
Alys studied him trying to figure out why he seemed so different. It was his clothes. They were different. Not at all what he was wearing at the wedding…but similar. Why would he change into more period like attire? He had called Regina’s penchant for a Regency themed wedding archaic. What was she missing?
“Miss, you are mistaking me for someone else.” The duke’s words dripped with disdain and his icy blue eyes added to the contempt he lorded over her. “I promise you, we’ve never laid eyes on each other before.”
No, no, no, no... What was this? She was not losing her mind, she wasn’t. Was she?
“Don’t be silly. We met several months ago.” Alys flicked her wrist nonchalantly. Why was Bradford pretending not to know her? This ducal demeanor of his was starting to piss her off. If he didn’t knock it off, she’d forget about thanking him for rescuing her and punch him in his perfect face.
He continued to stare down at her. Several seconds ticked by without a word from him. Alys fidgeted as she waited for him to admit what she already knew. The arrogant jerk had to drop the pretense at some point. He knew full well they were already acquainted. His mouth formed a grim line as he studied her. Alys began to understand what a bug under a microscope must feel like. She didn’t appreciate the scrutiny she was now experiencing under his direct gaze.
Bradford shook his head and stated firmly, “No. We did not.”
“Yes, we did. You’re the Duke of Weston. Your brother—”
He interrupted her, “My brother is dead.”
“What?” Alys didn’t know what was going on, but it couldn’t be true. “What happened to him?”
“This isn’t the place for this discussion. Please follow me.”
He turned to leave, clearly expecting her to follow him out of the room. His words penetrated her brain and left her reeling with shock. Alys stood staring off in the distance. Trenton couldn’t be dead. Regina must be devastated. No wonder Bradford acted so strange. She crumpled to the ground as the news fully hit her.
The duke turned around and rushed back to her side.
“I’m sorry.” He kneeled beside her. “I know you cared for him.”
Her gaze shot upward, meeting his. She shook her head. “Not me. My sister.”
As selfish as Regina may be, right now, her whole life must be falling apart before her eyes. She had to find her, help her through the pain. No wonder Bradford hadn’t changed his clothing. The whole family must all still be in shock. She could forgive him his rude behavior—everything—she’d be losing her mind too if her sister died. What the hell had happened at the wedding?
Alys shot to her feet and ran past Bradford. Her sister needed her.
“Alys, wait—”
She ignored him and kept running down the hall. Nothing was going to stop her from finding Regina. Not even Bradford’s good intentions. Family meant the world to her, even when they drove her to the brink of insanity.
SEARCHING FOR MY ROGUE
CHAPTER FOUR
“Alys wait...” She either didn’t hear him bellowing or she ignored him. He didn’t know which it was, but it was clear he had to go after her. James bolted down the hall following the path she’d taken.
The poor thing was confused. He had to catch her before she hurt herself further. He’d summon the doctor again. She’d need something the calm her down, perhaps he’d know better how to care for her malady.
Alys stopped at the top of the stairs, resting her hand on the balustrade. Her breathing was ragged. Her gaze fell on his when she glanced briefly behind her—then she skipped down the steps two at a time. Right before she reached the bottom, she tripped over her skirts and tumbled over the remaining few steps.
Bloody hell. The chit was going to be the death of him. James quickly followed her down and kneeled before her. “Are you all right?”
“Damned skirt is too long,” she muttered. Alys turned onto her side and glared up at him. “Of course I’m not all right, but nothing is broken. I’m sure I will have more bruises on top of the ones I already have.”
“Let me help you up.” James held out his hand to her.
“Thanks, I’ve got this.” Alys rolled onto her knees and hopped up to her feet. She turned to him and asked, “Where have you stashed Regina?”
“Pardon me?” James had no clue who this Regina was.
“My sister.” Alys rolled her eyes. “Where is she?”
James studied her for several seconds. She had mentioned something about her sister being devastated about Edward’s death. Perhaps she had been on her way to meet up with Regina for their wedding—not hers, as James previously assumed. Where her sibling was, though, he had no idea.
“I’m not acquainted with you or any of your family members.”
“I’m not in the mood for games, Bradford.” Her lips pursed up in displeasure. “Don’t make me hurt you. I’m well versed in all the areas to do the most damage to a person’s body.”
James rocked back on his heels. Both statements had him reeling. What order of woman was this standing before him? She threatened his person and didn’t have a clue who he was. This Bradford again—he hadn’t misheard her before—was clearly someone she didn’t like very much.
Her mouth fell open. Silence reigned throughout the room. James took advantage of her surprise and scooped her into his arms. Alys reached up quickly to wrap her arms around his neck, a reflex to catch her balance. “Put me down you big oaf,” she demanded.
“Wilson, fetch the doctor at once,” James bellowed. He switched his attention back to Alys and explained, “You require rest. The doctor left explicit directions. The maid I assigned to your room should not have allowed you to leave your bed, let alone get dressed and run around in your condition.”
James spun around and began to ascend the stairs once again. The lady was going back to her bed, whether she liked it or not. James sensed the harridan in his arms was about to give him hell for his high-handedness. It really was for her benefit. He’d deal with her wrath once he had her back in her bed.
“My condition?” She raised an eyebrow. “What condition is this? I can assure you I’m fine. Just a tad banged up.”
“Banged up?” James frowned. “You speak so strangely sometimes.”
“Kettle? Black? You’re acting out of character a bit.” She snorted. “Since when are you not Bradford? What are you going by today? Decided you needed a little change in your life?”
“I’ve never been, nor will I ever be, called Bradford.”
Alys was so peculiar, but something about her drew him. Her gaze held barely repressed anger and her cheeks flushed red. Her blonde hair fell around her face in waves. She must have been quite desperate to find her sister to leave without having the maid dress her hair properly. James rather like seeing her in such dishabille… He couldn’t help wondering how she’d look after being well loved.
James mentally sighed. He couldn’t hold onto such lecherous thoughts. Even if they were entertaining… Alys wouldn’t be enthused to know he wanted to strip her naked and have his wicked way with her. Her nails bit into his shoulder, and he winced from the pinprick of pain they left behind. Unfortunately it led his imagination even further down the sea of lust. The woman in his arms didn’t know what dangerous game she played.