When Michael pulled back, Aria searched his eyes, but they were closed, the heat and flame she had glimpsed there earlier hidden from her prying gaze. Perhaps she had been mistaken, then. After all, she had no experience with men and she was likely still feeling the effects of the laudanum. Or whatever he had given her so that she could rest.
“Get some sleep, Aria,” Michael said as he rose. “It is nearly midnight and my household is slumbering for the night. On the ‘morrow, I will send my housekeeper, Mrs. Lambert, in to see you. I trust her with my life, as should you. She will help to keep your presence here a secret from the outside world, as will all my staff. At least for now. For I think we both know you cannot remain here forever.”
Quirking her lips at him, Aria found herself smiling in return. It was the first smile she could remember in a great while. “I am thankful you allowed me to stay this long, Michael. I am certain I am an imposition in a bachelor household, along with a complication you do not need. For that, I am sorry. I really should be going and I know that. Perhaps first thing in the morning?”
“Hush,” he whispered as he back out of the room. “We will speak again tomorrow. Perhaps even in my study if you feel well enough to venture downstairs. Until then, sleep and know that no harm will come to you while you are under my roof. I will not touch you.” He paused and a seductive smile played across his lips. “Not unless you ask me to.”
Then he was gone, seemingly taking a good portion of the warmth of the room with him and making her blush red with his parting words.
Aria knew that it was a silly notion to think he stole the heat and one that was far beneath her. Yet the room did feel colder without Michael’s presence. Silly or not, there was no denying it.
With a sigh, Aria snuggled back down beneath the covers, still acutely aware that she had no nightrail or other clothing to protect her modesty. Then again, in a household like this, where would anyone have procured one?
She should not even be in this household, especially when Michael had made it clear just now that he desired her. She also noted that he had ignored her comment about leaving the next day.
Though her words had been light and teasing a moment ago, Aria had meant them in all seriousness. She did need to leave Thornfield Grange as soon as possible. While she had no doubt that Michael and his staff both could and would keep her safe from Felton’s men, she also knew that she would ruin his future if he stayed. Or she would be ruined in truth and not just in word.
Not to mention that eventually, someone from the outside world would discover she was here, loyal servants or not. Her discovery would do nothing but complicate Michael’s life and Aria had no wish to do that. He had saved her life. She owed it to him not to ruin his in return. Even if there was a tiny part of her that had foolishly hoped he would offer to marry her and protect her from her cousin.
Which was not only foolish but stupid and idiotic as well. She and Michael did not know each other at all. Nor was he looking for a wife. And she was not looking for a husband. No, it was best to end that line of thinking right now, no matter how pleasurable the idea of lying with him might be to her still-fevered brain. Right now, she had to concentrate on developing a plan to leave here before the situation grew any worse than it already was.
That would be an issue for tomorrow however, Aria decided as she felt her eyes begin to drift closed. As would the fact that she could not stay here, for she had no wish to bring shame to either of them. Or had she already thought that? No matter. The issue was still the same. She would be ruined if she remained and Michael? Well, he would be forced to wed her. Aria had no wish to bind him to her out of obligation.
Once the dawn came, she would wake, dress in the same rags she had arrived wearing and be on her way. She was better now. Healthier. Aria was certain of it.
True, her body seemed a bit thinner than she remembered, but that was likely a trick of the late hour and her tiredness. By the morning, she would be in perfect health again, or at the very least, well enough to continue on to Bath. She was certain someone here would point her in the right direction. Then she could be out of Dr. Michael Longford’s life, no longer a complication he likely neither needed or wanted.
Aria vowed that she would do just that. Once the sun rose again.
Michael waited outside of Aria’s chambers until he was certain she had fallen asleep before he went back inside to check on her. Unsurprisingly, she was sleeping rather soundly, though this was a sleep of healing and not one of fever. Her fever had broken during the afternoon of her second day with him, thankfully, though he hadn’t mentioned that to her just now for he suspected she would not want to learn that she had been so vulnerable.
It was evident from her behavior earlier that she didn’t wish to be thought of as weak or in need, especially not in front of him. It was also evident that she believed she was in control of this situation.
Just as she only thought she was leaving here in the morning.
Michael had heard what Aria said about wanting to leave tomorrow, of course. He had simply ignored her. He was her physician and knew that no matter what she believed, she was in no condition to go anywhere. He doubted she would even be able to stand for long periods of time without assistance. Therefore, she was not leaving here tomorrow. Or the next day or the day after that. Or the day after that.
In fact, depending upon how quickly she recovered, Aria might not leave Thornfield Grange for a month or longer.
Was that wise? No, but then there was little Michael could do about the matter. He was not in the habit of tossing injured females out onto the cold.
He was also not in the habit of lusting after half-dead ladies who appeared in his stables on frigid December nights – not that such a thing happened all that often. This was the first time, actually.
Still, he should not be thinking of her in those terms – in terms of bedding her and desiring her. She was not for him.
She was a lady and he was no gentleman. Of course, she was hardly like any lady he had encountered before.
Lady Aria Whitmore was not quite what he had expected. Then again, given that she had fled her ogre of a cousin in the dead of winter rather than allowing him to use her for ill, Michael was not entirely surprised. She was also full of fire and wit, with a tart tongue and intelligence to match. She was also rather practical.
Though she was clearly embarrassed by her nudity with him, she hadn’t screamed like a banshee when she awoke and discovered her unclothed state. Nor had she demanded that he leave while she clothed herself, which would have been a problem as he had nothing for her to wear just yet. She had actually handled the entire situation fairly well, all things considered.
Which told Michael without words that Aria was far more comfortable in her own skin and far less missish than most women he knew. Considering that he wanted to bed her, that was not a good thing.
She also didn’t seem to fear him, though that might be because she had no notion of who he really was. When she learned about his past? That might change. Or it might not. With her, he suspected there was no way to predict such things.
That said, Michael still knew that Aria was not for him.
And yet, he wanted her. In fact, he wanted her in a way he had not wanted a woman for a very long time – if ever.
Which was also a very bad thing, indeed, for if someone discovered Aria was here and forced him to do the honorable thing and marry her? As much as Michael didn’t need or want a wife, he would do just that. He would marry her and damn the consequences. Because the idea of having Aria in his bed, her body beneath his as he drove her to new heights of pleasure was beyond tempting. Too tempting for a scoundrel like Michael.
Which was very bad for all concerned. Very bad indeed. But especially for Aria.
Chapter Four
Aria both hoped and prayed that no one had heard her moving about as she made slow but steady progress through Thornfield Grange’s attics, a bedsheet wrapped around her now-too-thi
n body for protection, not that it offered her much. Once more, she had slept far longer than she had intended and she had to wonder if Michael was dosing her tea with laudanum. She would not be surprised if he were, for most physicians she knew swore by the awful tasting liquid to speed healing. Aria had her doubts about the helpfulness of anything that rendered the patient incapacitated, but then, she was not the physician. Michael was.
Dr. Michael Longford.
Just thinking about him gave her the shivers – and not from the cold either, though the attic was positively frigid, something that was likely not good for her.
Not that she should be thinking of Michael at all, for she had made the decision last night that he was not for her. He might want to bed her – she had seen his desire for her in his eyes – but that was the extent of his interest in her. Like Felton, he was about the physical. Except that she sensed there was more to the man than just his desire for her.
Or there could be more if she allowed it. Which she wouldn’t – allow any liberties that is. Because doing so would be wrong and foolish, even for a lady as rash as she was.
On the other hand, the good doctor was rather tempting. And handsome. So very, very handsome.
Still, Michael was not good for her – in so very many different ways. Only a brief time in his presence had convinced her of that much. Other than the obvious danger he posed to her reputation, he was also very dangerous to both her mind and her heart. And, very well, perhaps her body, too.
But mostly to her heart because whether he realized it or not, Michael unknowingly offered something that Aria had been missing for a very long time. He offered her a sense of belonging. A sense of coming home.
Though her parents had not quite been gone a year, Aria still felt as if she had been adrift forever. When Felton had replaced her old staff with his new one, she had lost much more than just loyal servants. She had lost friends. And that loss hurt, far more than she would have expected.
Instead of waking up each morning to the cheerful face of Mary, her longtime maid, Aria instead awoke to the scowl of Ruth, the replacement sent by Felton who made it her mission in life to keep track of Aria’s every step of every day. She no longer saw Tolman, their butler, bustling about to ensure the household ran efficiently, and she very much missed the way their cook would hum a merry little tune as she gave the kitchen staff their orders for the day.
In short, Aria missed her home. Or rather, the home she had known before Felton had arrived and turned her world upside down. She missed the love and the warmth and the safety those four walls had offered her throughout her life.
From the moment Aria had awoken yesterday to see Michael slumped in the chair beside the fire, something in her mind had whispered that she was safe. That here, finally, was a place to call home – at least for a time. For the first time in nearly a year, she also had someone she could depend upon, someone who would not allow her to fall. Someone to protect her from Felton and his nefarious plans. That knowledge was like a balm to Aria’s heart and soul in more ways than one.
However, none of it was real. All of it was merely an illusion. This was not her home. Michael did not belong to her. He was simply a physician treating a runaway that he had found hiding in his stables, a knife wound in her leg. She was nothing more to him than a body with an injury.
Except that maybe she wasn’t.
For when Michael had looked at her last night with those deep brown eyes of his, Aria had seen passion flicker in them, too. A passion for her. And whether he was interested in simply her body or something more, she could not say for certain, but she also wasn’t sure it mattered. Having been virtually alone for so long, with nothing to think about but the possibility of her cousin taking her as his mistress, Aria had plenty of time in recent months to consider the physical side of her existence.
She had considered her body and, perhaps for the first time really, felt her limbs as they moved, considered her body and mind’s responses when she imagined lying with a man. She gave pause to the possibility of becoming with child if she was forced to lie with Felton – or even with another man for that matter. She had considered all of that and more, so when Michael had looked at her with those lust-filled eyes of his, Aria wasn’t completely surprised to feel her body react to the attraction in his.
That, perhaps more than anything, worried her.
Aria might be rash and times, but she was not foolish. Or at least not usually.
Her future was uncertain at best, and she had no idea what awaited her in Bath, should she ever be fortunate enough to make it that far. Would Aunt Tilly receive her with open arms or would she be turned away because she had spent a night in the same home as an unwed man, even though she was too ill to travel?
Aria honestly didn’t know, but she did think that leaving Thornfield Grange as soon as possible was an excellent idea. Especially if Aunt Tilly did have a problem with her niece’s actions. Which she very well might. Her aunt was lax in a lot of ways but a sticker for propriety in others. It was rather doubtful that her aunt would be flexible about this particular situation, however.
Also, Aria wasn’t quite sure how she would explain her trip across England unaccompanied either, but then, once her aunt learned of Felton’s machinations, she hoped it would not matter. In fact, she prayed that her aunt would be so overjoyed that her niece had escaped such a dire fate that she wouldn’t question how said niece had come to be on her doorstep. Or the fact that she was alone.
Which, when Aria thought about it further, wasn’t very likely. Again, Aunt Tilly might like to drink and gamble and race carriages and even take a lover from time to time, but playing loose with a young lady’s virtue? That was another matter completely, and, deep inside, Aria had known that long before she even began this foolish journey.
Which made Aria wonder why she had run in the first place. Then she thought of Felton’s disgustingly wet mouth and lecherous stare and remembered why. Though she should have also remembered that Aunt Tilly would not be likely to forgive this sort of social transgression.
Perhaps Michael was right. Perhaps she really hadn’t thought this plan through as well or as completely as she had imagined.
However, Aria had no time to dwell upon what was already done. She had to get out of this house while there was still some light to be had, and given that the meal tray that had been left in her room consisted not of breakfast foods but of luncheon ones, she knew that it was already well past noon.
Even if the food hadn’t given her an idea as to the time, the sun’s position in the sky certainly had. Growing up in the West Indies, Aria had become rather proficient at both navigating and telling approximate time by the position of the sun. Thus far, the skill had served her well throughout her life, and as she had slowly crept out of bed nearly a quarter an hour past, Aria had been dismayed to note both the approximate time (approximate only because she could not locate a single clock in this infernal place, nor could she locate her father’s pocket watch) and the fact that she still had nothing to wear.
So Aria had taken the bedsheet and while cursing Michael for his odd lack of clocks, had made her way slowly up the stairs to the attics in search of something that the duke and his duchess might have left behind before that ill-fated night at the faro tables.
She hadn’t had to search for long. It had taken only five minutes or so before Aria discovered an array of clothing for all different shapes and sizes of people – both men and women – simply lying about in the attic. The only problem was which clothes should she choose to make her escape. Now, even after nearly a quarter hour of staring at the items laid out before her, Aria as no closer to selecting something to wear for her escape than she had been when she had first opened the trunk.
And that indecision she blamed squarely on Michael.
“Not thinking things through, my foot,” she grumbled as she fingered an emerald green silk ballgown. Though several years out of fashion, the garment was well crafted and bore
the signature gold lace trim that marked it as a Madame LaVallier original. There were three more trunks full of such gowns, so it was no wonder the duke had been nearly destitute. LaVallier gowns were expensive and even for as wealthy as her family had been, neither Aria nor her mother had ever been fortunate enough to own one.
“I will show him a thing or two!” Aria muttered to herself as she pushed the gowns aside with a longing-filled sigh and instead reached for the pile of men’s trousers that she had collected during her rummaging about. “I shall be gone in a trice! He will not even hear me leave.”
Just then, her legs, which hadn’t been steady since she left her bed while the maid’s back was turned, threatened to give out and Aria had to grab on to a chair to steady herself. She had been able to walk before collapsing in the stables, albeit not well. So there was no reason she could not walk now. She was simply being weak-willed.
Either that or Michael was right, and she was sicker than she had realized.
Aria didn’t want him to be right. Except she suspected that he was. Particularly in this case.
Still, she could not waiver in her quest to leave Thornfield Grange. There was too much danger – for all of them – if she stayed. She had to be strong.
And she had to force her legs to carry her far away from here, no matter how much they hurt. And no matter how much she wished to stay for reasons that she didn’t want to examine too closely.
Reaching for the smallest pair of breeches once she was certain she was steady on her feet again, Aria’s hand strayed back to the silk ballgown, unbidden. It had been many years since she had worn anything so fine. She had made her come out when she had turned eighteen, but her father had believed that a young lady should only require one Season to make an impression and snare a husband. If she did not accomplish either task in the time allotted? Well, then she was destined to be a spinster.
Christmas With a Scoundrel Page 5