Blood Marriage

by Regina Richards

"The Fosses. Amanda and Leo." Elizabeth thought of the playful way the couple had caressed one another. Would Devlin be that type of husband? Playful, teasing? Would she have been that type of wife, one who took pleasure in seducing her husband? She would never find out. She would tell him the truth in the morning. "I didn't realize at first who they were and I...I didn't feel up to facing anyone. It was easier to hide and wait until they left the house."

  Devlin's hands stilled midway down her back. "Leo and Amanda left the house?"

  "Yes. They went moth hunting in the woods."

  Devlin's hands gripped her shoulders and spun her around. One finger reached up and traced a line down her neck. His expression was so intense she expected him to kiss her. Instead, one strong arm went around her back, the other behind her knees. He scooped her up off the floor.

  "Time for bed," he said. To Elizabeth's astonishment, despite carrying her weight and without benefit of light, Devlin took the stairs two at a time. Her betrothed was an astonishingly strong man. She expected him to set her down when they reached the landing, but he carried her down the hall to her room, setting her on her feet before her door. He stepped back. He wasn't even breathing hard.

  "Goodnight, Elizabeth," he said.

  "Goodnight." She pushed open the door and waited. For what she wasn't sure. Another kiss perhaps?

  He shook his head. "Tomorrow, Elizabeth."

  He turned on his heel and headed next door to his own room. From the dimness at the opposite end of the hall where the countess, Harriet, and presumably their new companion were staying, Elizabeth heard the soft click of a door shutting. She waited to hear Devlin's door shut as well, before closing her own.

  A lantern burned on the small table beside the bed, a glass of water beside it. The bed covers had been turned back invitingly. Katie may have deserted her post for Margaret's sake, but she hadn't entirely neglected her duties. Elizabeth removed her evening gown and hung it over a chair. What would Katie think when she found the gown in the morning, smudged and dirtied? It didn't really matter. Katie had her secrets and Elizabeth had her own.

  She ignored the sheer red negligee Katie had laid out in favor of a familiar old nightgown. It covered her from neck to wrist to ankle in a modest swathe of soft pink flannel trimmed with faded ribbons. Elizabeth sat down before the dressing table mirror and brushed out her hair, each stroke reminding her of a warmer touch. When it was smooth, she braided it in two thick plaits and tied the ends with matching ribbons. The girl staring back at her from the mirror looked far more familiar than the elegantly gowned lady who had descended to dinner just hours ago.

  Shielding the lamp flame with one hand she passed on bare feet through the dressing room that divided her room from her mother's. To Elizabeth's relief her mother was resting quietly despite the kitchen maid snoring on the sofa near the fireplace. Cook had been sending a different girl each night to sit with the dying woman. They were supposed to remain awake, but few did. Not that it mattered. Since her mother had been in Dr. Bergen's care she'd slept through the nights, and through most of the days as well. Rarely was she cognizant enough of her surroundings anymore to converse. Death was close, but it had been a long journey and she and her mother had wasted none of it. Both were too acquainted with loss not to have said all they needed to say, loved and shared with abandon, while it had remained possible. Yet the anticipation of loss still tightened Elizabeth's throat as she knelt beside the bed to pray.

  When she rose, she tucked the comforter more snuggly around her mother's fragile form and went to stand at the window. Pulling aside one pink curtain, she looked out over the starlit lawns to the forest beyond. Were Leo and Amanda enjoying their night in the woods? How was Margaret's quest for a husband succeeding? Had she and Katie discovered yet if Lennie was interested in something more permanent than a cuddle in the moonlight?

  Elizabeth let go of the curtain. But before it fell back into place a movement at the edge of the woods caught her eye. She opened the curtain again, but was too late. The shadowy figure, visible for that short instant at the edge of the trees, was gone. Had it been a man or a woman? She wasn't sure, though it had moved in a decidedly human fashion. So intent was she on the edge of the woods, that a second figure was halfway across the lawn before she noticed him.

  The evening clothes he'd worn at dinner were gone. Exchanged for the same traveling clothes he'd worn when he'd come to her room that afternoon. As she watched him disappear into the line of trees, alarm tingled in her limbs and crept toward her spine. She rolled her shoulders trying to shake it away. There could be any number of reasons Lord Devlin might take a walk in the night. So why did she suddenly feel so cold?

  Elizabeth remained at the window for a long time, but nothing moved on the lawn below or in the forest beyond. A clock was striking eleven when she fetched a blanket and pulled a chair to the window. She fell asleep waiting for Devlin to return.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The screams weakened to little more than sobs. Yet the horror and anguish within them only grew deeper. Elizabeth struggled against the nightmarish noise, willing herself up out of the dream. Her eyes flew open. For an instant she was comforted by the reassuring sight of pink curtains, the familiar softness of the sickroom chair. Then the sobs rose once more, as if echoing up from the very bowels of the house, until they again became full-throated screams. Mother? Elizabeth came out of the chair so quickly she nearly overturned the table where the lamp still burned. Her joints hissed with pain at the sudden rising, but the room was quiet, her mother serene in sleep, the kitchen maid snoring undisturbed on the couch.

  The screams weakened again, disintegrating into garbled pleading. She couldn't make out the words, but she recognized the voice. That the unfailingly stoic Margaret was hysterical made her heart clench. Elizabeth tossed a blanket around her shoulders, grabbed the lamp, and hurried out into the empty hallway to the stairwell landing.

  Below, the front door of the house stood open to the night, moonlight creeping in to glisten over the dark, wet trail leading from the threshold, across the entry, and up the stairs. Halfway up the stairs Margaret lay crumpled, gasping and wailing. The maid reached out a shaking hand, trying to drag herself up another step. Ignoring her own pain, Elizabeth struggled down the stairs, pulling the blanket from her shoulders as she went.

  "Margaret? What has happened?" Elizabeth wrapped the blanket around the maid and cradled the woman's head to her shoulder. "Did Lennie hurt you? Where's Katie?"

  At the mention of the other girl's name Margaret wailed louder. On the landing above a crowd of women in night hats and wrappers had gathered. Countess Glenbury, Harriet, and Mrs. Blakely peered down at Elizabeth and the maid. No one came down the stairs.

  "What is going on here?" the countess demanded, then didn't wait for a reply. "I've seen this too often. These maids think they can flirt with a man and there won't be a price to pay. When things happen the way they do with men, the girl gets overwrought."

  "Be quiet, Countess Glenbury!" Elizabeth said. "And if you can't be helpful, go back to bed."

  The countess huffed. Harriet said, "What happened?"

  "Nothing that need disturb you ladies." The front door clicked shut. Devlin's voice was firm as he mounted the stairs."Go back to bed. I'll take care of Margaret."

  He lifted the maid as easily as he'd lifted Elizabeth earlier that evening. Then he carried her up the stairs, past the ladies on the landing, and down the hall to Dr. Bergen's room. He looked as if he meant to kick the door open, but Elizabeth, having steeled herself against the pain and rushed to follow him, opened it first. Devlin laid the maid on the doctor's bed.

  "Go to your room, Elizabeth." He started to tug the boots from Margaret's feet. Elizabeth gently pushed him aside.

  "I'll do that. You find the doctor."

  He stared at her before nodding. "I'll send someone up to build a fire and bring hot water. She must be kept warm."

  Elizabeth waved him away and started unbutto
ning Margaret's dress. The girl was moaning, rocking herself against the pillows, her face almost as white as the linens. Devlin closed the door behind him, his deep voice rumbling from the other side as he shooed the ladies back to their rooms.

  Some of Margaret's hair had pulled loose from its bun, wrapping one side of her neck like bloody fingers. Taking care of that would have to wait on hot water and a comb. In the meantime Elizabeth gently undressed the maid, speaking soothing nonsense as she worked. Whether it was the effect of her words or simple exhaustion that calmed the maid Elizabeth was unsure, but by the time she'd removed the last stocking Margaret had ceased rocking. She was tucked beneath a mountain of blankets by the time Lennie knocked on the door with a basin of hot water and a stack of clean towels. Elizabeth snatched the towels from him and pointed to the nightstand. He set the basin on it.

  "Did you do this?" Elizabeth demanded.

  Lennie's bushy brows shot high at the accusation.

  "I know you met Katie and Margaret in the forest tonight. What happened?"

  "What are you talking about?" Either the man was an extraordinarily accomplished actor or he really didn't know. His expression turned considering. "Why would you think I met Margaret in the forest, miss?"

  "Margaret said you sent her a note asking her to meet you there tonight. She took Katie along as a chaperon. Do you deny you sent her that note?"

  "It's an interesting question, of course," Dr. Bergen said from near the window. "But not one that can't wait while we attempt to save the patient's life, yes?"

  Lennie crouched and spun. Elizabeth frowned. Why hadn't she heard the door open when Dr. Bergen entered the room, and who had opened the window? She hurried to shut it against the cool night air. Dr. Bergen moved to the bed and began to examine Margaret.

  "Lennie, isn't it?" the doctor asked. The footman nodded. "We'll need a fire, Lennie. The bigger and hotter the better. More blankets and plenty of beef broth."

  "Will she live?" Lennie asked.

  "Not if we don't get her very warm very soon."

  When the footman had gone, Dr. Bergen turned to Elizabeth. His eyes traveled the length of her, taking in her modest nightdress and beribboned braids. "Vlad's right. You do look like a virgin sacrifice. Go to your room, Miss Smith. And lock your door. I'll care for Margaret."

  "I'm not leaving," Elizabeth said. "But someone needs to find Katie."

  As if she'd conjured the girl with her words, the door opened and Katie rushed in, Nicholas behind her. Tears streamed down her bruised and swollen face. The same dark substance that covered Margaret's clothing was splattered across Katie's dress. Elizabeth had been around bleeders all her life. She knew the look and smell of blood. Katie threw herself to her knees beside Margaret's bed and clutched her friend's pale hand.

  "Forgive me, Margaret. Please forgive me."

  Margaret's eyes were closed. She no longer moaned. Katie shook the girl's hand in frustration causing the blanket to jerk from beneath Margaret's chin, pulling the blood matted fingers of hair free from her neck. Her head lolled to one side. Katie sobbed and buried her face against the bed at the sight. Elizabeth couldn't take her eyes from it. Twin punctures marred the white flesh of Margaret's throat. They were still oozing blood.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The all-encompassing flannel gown and simple hair ribbons should have made her look demure, almost prudish, but that was not the way she felt in his arms. Nicholas shifted Elizabeth on his lap so that the soft mounds of her breasts no longer pressed against his chest. It did no good. She mumbled something unintelligible and burrowed back against him in a way that caused the heat in the already over-warm room to seem unbearable.

  "Why don't you take her to her bed?" Dr. Bergen sat in an overstuffed chair, his leg cocked up over one chair arm, his sleeves rolled high.

  He'd just finished battling broth into Margaret for the third time that night. Keeping the girl conscious long enough to get her to swallow had proved no small task. Earlier the two men had pushed Margaret's bed as close to the fireplace as they dared and moved the sofa and chairs that had occupied that space as far to the other side of the room as possible. Now Nicholas sat on the sofa across from the doctor, Elizabeth sleeping against his chest.

  "In a few more hours. I don't want to leave her alone. Not yet. Not like this." Nicholas looked down at the elegant hand curled over his heart and felt a twinge of guilt. It was the second time he'd drugged her in the three weeks since they'd met. But she'd left him little choice. She'd pushed herself dangerously hard tonight, and then refused to leave Margaret. The drug and the deep sleep it produced had smoothed the lines of pain from her face.

  "She'll be fine. The dose I gave you for her tea was very mild." Dr. Bergen grinned. "But if you don't trust yourself, if you're afraid to carry her to her room, I could do it."

  "You could, but then who would care for Margaret after I killed you?"

  The doctor laughed. "I'm not so easy to kill." He stood and stretched, glancing at the clock on the mantel. "It's been two hours since his last visit. Lennie should be along again soon to check on his light o'love." Dr. Bergen tilted his head toward the woman sleeping in the bed. "Or on us, as the case may be."

  "We'll need to find out," Nicholas agreed. "If he's not who he should be, we need to know."

  Bergen nodded. "He's asking too many questions for a footman. When I went to the kitchens to get more broth, he was looking for Katie. He wasn't happy to hear I'd given the girl a sleeping draught and sent her off to bed...doctor's orders."

  "Could be he's just curious," Nicholas said.

  "Could be something worse."

  "Well, he won't learn anything from Katie. She was waiting in the bushes when Margaret began screaming. She told me all she saw was a dark figure bending over the girl. When she tried to go to Margaret's aid she was struck in the face, knocked from her feet. She ran. She was hiding in a ravine near the old castle ruins when I found her. Katie won't be able to tell him anything helpful." Nicholas glanced over at the bed. "What about our patient? What will she remember?"

  "Nothing. They never do. Not the first time."

  "We were fortunate tonight. If things had gone differently, if the girl had bled to death, that would have brought lawmen, and difficulties...for all of us."

  Both men were quiet for a time. Finally, Nicholas spoke again. "It was reckless to hunt so close to home. Maybe Vlad is right."

  "Yes, well, sometimes things get out of hand." The doctor moved to the window, his back to Nicholas.

  "Sometimes things get out of hand," Nicholas echoed Bergen softly. Elizabeth stirred against him. He dropped his head to brush his lips against her forehead, breathing deep, letting the sweet scent of her fill his senses. Hunger clawed at his insides.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It is urgent I speak with you before the wedding. Nicholas noticed this time she hadn't bothered to sign her name beneath the hastily scrawled words on the thin white paper. The word urgent had been underlined several times.

  He crumpled the note and tossed it on the bed beside two others, then pulled his great coat over his shoulders. Outside, wheels crunched along the gravel drive. The carriages that would carry his guests to the church were being brought around to the front entrance. He would have preferred to ride his own horse. The exercise might have helped to clear his head. But as Leo had pointed out, a man shouldn't show up for his own wedding smelling like an animal.

  Knocks sounded simultaneously on both doors of the room. The knock on the door to the hall would be Leo coming to take him to the church. The other would be his lovely, if persistent, note writer. He checked his pocket for the ring and picked up his hat. The knocking on the door leading to Elizabeth's room grew louder. The doorknob rattled violently. Fortunately, he'd made a point of locking it, after tucking his sleeping beauty into her bed just before dawn.

  "Devlin, stop ignoring me! I need to talk to you! Devlin?" That was not the voice of a happy bride.

  Nichol
as checked the folds of his cravat in the mirror one final time, then opened the hall door. Leo stood there dressed in his best suit, a smile on his face. Nicholas raised a finger to his lips, forestalling whatever greeting his friend might have made him. Leo stepped into the room. His brow wrinkled at the noise coming from the adjoining dressing room. He spotted the crumpled notes on the bed and shot a questioning look at Nicholas.

  Nicholas shrugged and picked up his gloves. The banging continued, harder. The flat of her hand hitting solid wood made him wince as he imagined the bruises that would surely form. He took a step toward the door, then stopped, shook his head, reversed course, and ushered Leo silently out into the hall. He closed the bedroom door behind them with a soft click.

  "Bride's nerves," Nicholas said.

  As if that explained all Leo made a sympathetic hum. Father Vlad, the duke and Dr. Bergen waited for them at the bottom of the stairs. Vlad and his father were arguing in low tones. Nicholas avoided them and sought out Bergen.

  "How's Margaret?" he asked.

  "She'll recover with time. Katie's sitting with her now. Cook promised to look in on them often. I asked that Lennie be one of the footmen who accompany us to the church today so that he won't be bothering the girls."

  Nicholas accepted his father's hearty hug and, ignoring Father Vlad's gloomy expression, led the men outside. They took the smallest of the carriages for the ride to the church, leaving the larger ones to transport Randall and the ladies.

  Dozens of vehicles filled the fields and lined the lanes around the small village church. Inside, the church pews were crowded, gentry and commoner alike dressed in their finest. No one wanted to miss the wedding of the heir to the dukedom.

  Nicholas spent a few minutes with the rosy-cheeked vicar. He thanked the clergyman for allowing the wedding to be held in the afternoon, a generous concession of tradition. He also produced the special license he'd obtained from the bishop in London. The vicar smiled broadly at the document which granted permission for the marriage to be made in such haste and confided it was the first time in his career he had seen such papers. With some prompting from the vicar, Nicholas assured the earnest fellow that both he and Elizabeth were entering into this most sacred union with sincere hearts and clear consciences.