Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Annie Burrows

  CHAPTER SIX

  Unbelievable. There was no other word for it. It was unbelievable. She was unbelievable.

  When he heard the door click closed behind her, Theo climbed back into bed and wrestled with the sheets and bedcovers, trying to get them into some semblance of order. He had no idea where his nightshirt was, having pulled it off some time during the night, and there was no point trying to find it now.

  He tugged at the tangled top sheet and pulled it up over himself, still cursing under his breath about that infuriating Lady Iris. Just who did she think she was, coming into his room uninvited? The last thing he wanted was some interfering woman who thought she could save the poor, unfortunate blind man.

  Could she be more annoying? He doubted it. And then she had the audacity to act all haughty and offended, when all he had done was express his objections to her presence in what was, to his mind, a very restrained manner.

  What on earth was she expecting? That he’d be eternally grateful to her? He was not a child and he did not need some do-gooder trying to turn him into one, and she needed to realise that.

  He tugged at the twisted sheet. What was wrong with her? It was just a bad dream, for God’s sake. He’d had them before and he’d no doubt have them again. There was no need for her to get quite so dramatic.

  As he lay down on the pillow vague memories of his nightmare drifted back into his mind, flames lapping at the edge of his consciousness. It was a familiar dream, one that had often resurfaced over the last six years, but tonight’s dream contained something else. Something different. Something gentle and tender. A woman’s caresses, her light kisses, her soft body.

  Had she touched him, caressed his face, his chest, or was that just something he had conjured up in his fevered state? He must have dreamt it, because he was also sure he had felt her lips on his forehead. That would never happen. No one would ever kiss him there, not on those ugly, disfiguring scars.

  Damn that woman. She was even starting to invade his dreams now. He sat up and punched the pillow, trying to make it more comfortable while exorcising some of his rage. He neither wanted nor needed her help, and certainly did not want her caresses or kisses, even imagined ones. He knew the danger of letting a pretty young woman like Iris Springfeld into his life. He knew how easy it would be to fall under her spell. As enticing as it was to consider repeating the same mistake, it was too high a price to pay. One he would not be paying again.

  No, he was perfectly all right on his own. So what if he had the occasional nightmare? He was perfectly capable of coping with them without her trying to mother him. He had lost count of the number of times he had woken from a fitful sleep, his sheets in a tangle, his body drenched with sweat. It was something he was used to. It was something he had learnt to deal with in his own way, without any help from anyone else.

  He rolled over and his senses were filled with her scent, lingering on his pillow, on his sheets. Damn her again. Even when she wasn’t present, he could not get away from her. He inhaled deeply. Orange blossom and rosewater. Despite himself, he had to admit there was something comforting about that scent.

  Rather than turn away he continued to inhale her perfume. With each inhalation his breath slowed down, his anger dissipated. Then he drifted off into sleep, a sleep that this time was filled with the sensation of being held, being healed, being loved.

  * * *

  The warmth of the sunlight coming through the curtainless windows woke Theo from a restful sleep. He stretched in the bed, feeling more relaxed than he had for many a year. It made a nice change to have a good night’s sleep, and he wondered what had caused it.

  He lay in bed for a moment longer, replaying all that had happened yesterday and last evening, each memory chipping away at his calmness until it had completely evaporated and that familiar sense of rage engulfed him.

  While he was often angry, this morning there was only one target for his irritation. Lady Iris Springfeld. That interfering, chattering busybody with that relentless laugh.

  And she was still in his house. He was going to have to face her again. A woman who was not only annoying but had also seen him at his most vulnerable.

  He hated the thought that she had been witness to his night-time terrors. He did not want anyone to think he was weak, least of all any young woman, and in particular Lady Iris Springfeld. It infuriated him that she was under the delusion that his nightmares meant he needed help. He needed no one, and he particularly did not need an interfering little ray of sunshine who thought she could make everything all right with a few comforting words and gentle caresses.

  He threw off the bedclothes, their tangled state insulting him with further memories of last night, of the disarrayed state in which she had found him. His anger continuing to simmer within him, he walked to the window and pushed it up, hoping the fresh air would cool his temper. The wind had stopped howling and battering the house. Birds were now singing in the trees and the air had the sweet scent of wet grass and leaves.

  There was nothing to stop her from returning home and out of his life. Good.

  Turning from the window, he wrapped himself in his robe and rang for his valet. As he waited, he paced the room.

  She was going to leave, but unfortunately he would still have to see her again for one last time. For politeness’s sake, he would need to say his goodbyes, but then that would be that. She would be gone, her meddling would be gone, her damn interference and any further attempts to comfort him would be gone.

  His pacing halted. What was he doing? Why was he so angry with her? Did her actions really justify this level of condemnation?

  He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. Was he being unfair? Or worse, a complete cad? What had she actually done? She had heard his cries in the middle of the night and had come running.

  Her intentions had been good, if misguided. And, despite his annoyance, he did have to admit it had been brave of her. She was in a strange house with a man she did not know, but still she had responded to what she thought was a person in distress. And he had repaid her bravery with anger and scorn.

  Clenching his jaw tightly, he recommenced pacing the room. Damn her yet again. Now it looked as if he was going to have to further belittle himself by apologising to the lady for his ungracious behaviour.

  The sooner he got that particular indignity over, the better. Then she could be on her way and leave him in peace.

  His valet arrived with a bowl of warm water and his shaving gear. Theo sat down and James ran the soapy shaving brush over his cheeks and neck. He continued to fume as the blade was swished along the leather strop to make it razor-sharp.

  Why did she have to come into his room and make his life so complicated? Didn’t she know that young, unmarried women were not supposed to, under any circumstances, enter a man’s bedroom? Did she not realise how compromised she could become by such an action? That if anyone knew of what she had done they could be forced to marry? His seething ratcheted up a notch.

  Did such considerations not even enter her empty little head? Or did she believe that she would be safe from such a fate because it was his bedroom she was entering?

  That presumably was her thinking. Even if she had been compromised, no family would insist that a man like him must marry their daughter.

  He tilted back his head as the valet drew the blade up his neck and over his cheek, and drew in a series of long, calming breaths.

  Now was the time to put all thoughts of Lady Iris Springfeld out of his mind. The last thing he should be thinking about was a woman who made his blood boil. Not when a cut-throat razor was being run over his face and neck.

  Still breathing slowly and deeply, he fought to stop that little minx from entering his mind again, with all her laughter, chatter and inappropriate behaviour.

  When the valet placed a warm towel on his face, he breathed a sigh of relief. He had manage
d to survive his agitation without receiving the slightest nick. Although that was due more to James’s skill than it was to Theo’s ability to keep Lady Iris out of his thoughts. And now he was going to have to endure her company for a little longer and try his hardest not to let his annoyance show, something that was going to take a level of self-control he was not sure he possessed.

  ‘Is Lady Iris awake?’ he asked his valet as soon as the warm towel was removed.

  ‘Yes, my lord. I believe the young lady rose quite early.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And she’s now dressed in her own, dry clothing.’

  He could hear the amusement in his valet’s voice. Presumably, Charles had informed him that Lady Iris had been forced to wear Theo’s clothing last night.

  ‘And where is she now?’ he asked as his valet removed his suit from the wardrobe.

  ‘I last saw her in the breakfast room,’ James replied, handing Theo his trousers and shirt.

  ‘And has the coachman been instructed to take her home as soon as she is ready to go?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’

  Theo nodded. All he had to do now was make a quick apology, say goodbye, put her in a carriage and then it would all be over. His life would return to normal.

  Once the valet had helped him into his jacket and finished brushing it down so it reached a standard that James would be happy with, Theo walked the well-practised route from his bedroom.

  He made sure that the routes he regularly walked were clear of all obstacles. While the rest of the house was decorated with an array of fripperies collected over the years by his ancestors, the corridor outside his room was as spartan as a military barracks.

  He also insisted that no hinges or locks be oiled so he would always know when doors were being opened and people were entering the room. Such arrangements gave him the confidence to move freely about his own house, whereas in public he never knew what obstacle might trip him up and reveal his affliction to the world.

  He gripped the banister. And yet, in his own house, that little miss had seen him at his very worst. No wonder he avoided company. No wonder he shut himself off from the world. He did not need her or anyone else pitying him.

  Holding on to the banister, he counted each stair until he knew he had reached the ground floor. Then he paced out the number of steps that would take him to the breakfast room.

  He reached the door, gritted his teeth together and paused, his hand clenching the doorknob. With a resigned sigh he opened the door, determined to get this over and done with as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ‘Good morning,’ came her sunny greeting from the direction of the dining table. ‘It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?’

  He mumbled his good morning, sat in his usual chair, reached for the coffee pot but found only air. That annoying woman had moved it. Charles quickly stepped forward and moved the coffee pot into the path of his waving hand. He murmured his thanks, poured his coffee and resisted the temptation to inform Lady Iris that he had a place for everything and he did not like things moved about, nor did he like having to rely on others to do even basic things for him, like pour the coffee. But he held his tongue, reminding himself that he had an apology to make, and an apology should not start with a rebuke.

  ‘You may go now, thank you, Charles,’ Theo said. He did not need anyone hearing what he was about to say. He suspected the servants already knew about his nightmares—after all, servants knew just about everything that happened in a house—but they did not need to know about Lady Iris’s night-time activities, and Charles most certainly did not need to hear Theo abasing himself and apologising to this flibbertigibbet.

  ‘It would be hard to believe there was a storm last night if it weren’t for the sodden driveway and the fallen branches,’ she continued in that bright tone. ‘Although the gardeners are already clearing everything away and making it tidy again. I popped outside before I came in to breakfast to enjoy the fresh air and they were busy at work.’

  It seemed Lady Iris’s sunny disposition was just as cheerful in the mornings as it was in the evenings. Some people were morning people, some evening people, but Lady Iris appeared, unfortunately, to be both.

  ‘Now that the storm has passed, you’ll be wanting to get home as soon as possible,’ he said, and took a sip of the reviving coffee.

  Or at least I will be wanting you to depart, the sooner the better.

  ‘Yes, it would be best if I returned to the Walbertons’ estate as early as possible. Hopefully, if I get home before anyone rises no one will know that I was even missing. Fortunately, they tend to retire late and rise late, so I should be safe.’

  He nodded his head in agreement. Good, she would be gone soon. But there was something he had to do before she left. Something that gave him great pain. He had to make that apology.

  He took another sip of his coffee, placed the cup back in the saucer, drew himself more upright, took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘About last night.’ He took in another deep breath. Who would expect a simple apology to be so hard to make? But then, Theo was not used to explaining himself to anyone, and he most certainly was not used to apologising.

  ‘Oh, yes, about that,’ she said as her coffee cup clinked into its saucer. ‘I used to have bad dreams all the time when I was a child and my mother always used to hold me and stroke my brow until all the scariness went away.’ She paused, then gave a small laugh that sounded awkward. ‘So that’s why I was in your room when you woke. Just doing what my mother would have done for me. Nothing else. Nothing more.’

  Theo clenched his teeth together to stop himself from telling her again in no uncertain manner that he did not need mothering, not from her, not from anyone, but he was fairly certain that lashing out was also not how one apologised.

  Then his breath caught in his throat as he took in the other part of what she had said. ‘Hold me...stroke my brow’? Was that what she had been doing? Were those feelings that she had held him, kissed him, caressed him, real rather than something he had conjured up in his dream? But even if they had been real, she had not held, caressed or kissed him like a woman embracing a man, but as a mother comforting a disturbed child. It was an insult, not an act of affection or attraction. He was a man, for God’s sake, not a child.

  She had been in his room. She should not have been, but she had meant well. What she had done when she had been in his room, and her reasons for doing it, were neither here nor there. What he needed to do now was to get this damn apology over and done with.

  ‘I am sorry for being so rude to you last night,’ he said, his still-gritted teeth making the words sound terse. He forced his jaw to relax. ‘You were very brave to react the way you did when you heard...’ He rolled his hand in the air, not wanting to say out loud that he had been screaming in his sleep.

  ‘Brave?’ she said with a small laugh. ‘I’m not brave. Foolhardy maybe. I didn’t actually think too much about what I was doing. I just reacted, I suppose. Heaven knows what I would have done if you actually had been under attack from an assailant or this really was a haunted castle.’

  There she went again, prattling on. Did she ever stop? But he held his tongue on that matter. Again, he was not meaning to criticise her but to apologise.

  ‘Well, thank you.’ There. He had said it. Hopefully, that would be the end of it and now he could drink his coffee in peace.

  ‘That was my first thought when I suddenly woke,’ she continued, destroying his hope for silence. ‘That the house was haunted—after all, it is an old castle. Then I imagined some ruthless assassin was wandering the corridors, causing mayhem, or a band of desperate brigands.’

  He continued drinking his coffee, unsure how or if he wanted to respond to such absurdities.

  ‘Did I mention that I like to read gothic novels, and they do tend to make my imagination
go off on some wild tangents at times?’

  ‘No, but you have now. And with those thoughts in your mind, it is a wonder you even left your bed, never mind entered my room.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, but I’m always being told off about doing things like that.’

  He lowered his coffee cup. ‘What? Do you make a habit of going into men’s rooms in the middle of the night?’

  ‘No, of course not. Don’t be silly. I’m always being told off for acting before thinking.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Like going for a walk when there’s a storm on the horizon.’

  ‘Hmm, yes, I suppose so. And thank you again for taking me in. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t stumbled upon this house.’

  He took another sip of his coffee, pleased that he had got that apology out of the way, and for restraining himself from mentioning that he would have preferred it if she had stumbled upon some other house and inflicted her relentless happiness on some other poor sod, someone who appreciated it. But that was unfair. She hadn’t chosen his house, circumstances had forced her to shelter in his home, and at any other home she would not have been woken in the middle of the night by her host’s screaming.

  Theo swallowed down his coffee, wishing he could erase the memory of last night from his mind, but instead he remembered something else he should apologise for, something that was perhaps even more sensitive.

  ‘And I am sorry that last night you saw me...’ He paused, trying to think of the best way to phrase this so he would save her blushes. ‘I’m sorry you saw me in a somewhat less than formally attired manner.’

  She laughed. ‘Well, that’s one way of putting it, I suppose.’

  He could see nothing funny in this situation. She had entered a man’s bedroom, unaccompanied, and had found him completely naked. That would have sent most young maidens shrieking from the room. But not Lady Iris. And his apology, rather than making her blush, had amused her.