The Viscount's Salvation (Honorable Rogue Book 3)

by Vikki Vaught

  Leaning in, he took the tight bud between his teeth and gently bit, not enough to cause pain only heighten her desire. It must have worked, because she sighed and thrust her breast upward, her body begging him to continue.

  His cock jumped and grew even harder, sending a jolt to his stones. Unable to wait any longer, he slid his hand up her smooth leg to her treasure trove and felt her incredibly wet heat. Thank God, she was more than ready to receive him because he needed her in the worst way.

  He moved between her splayed thighs and thrust inside her tight passage. Waves of pleasure rushed through him as he began to move in and out of her slender body. His passion carried him higher and higher as her cries rang in his ears. He angled his cock so it would hit that spot he’d discovered deep inside her. Her channel clamped tight around him, driving his desire upward. Faster and faster, he thrust, with each moan that came from her parted lips.

  Any remaining thought of control flew from his mind at the sight of his beautiful wife’s hands clutching at the sheets as he drove into her. Then the light splintered into a rainbow of color as he plunged his cock in her one last time, emptying his seed into the mouth of her womb.

  Collapsing against her, he sucked some much-needed air into his lungs and rolled to her side. A lazy lassitude rolled through his body as he lost his tight hold on consciousness, and he did the last thing he had wanted to do, he slipped into a deep sleep.

  Cortland reveled in the feel of his wife’s soft body snuggled against him. Her sweet scent of jasmine intermingled with the faint trace of sex in the air. His eyes shot open. He was not imagining her. Fear gripped him.

  Good Lord! He’d fallen asleep again.

  The pre-dawn light filtered through the crack in the drapes. How could he have let this happen? If he’d had the nightmare, there was no telling how he would have reacted to having her in his arms. He should have realized he’d been too exhausted.

  Thank God, he had not had that hellish dream. He could not risk falling asleep again. No matter how much he enjoyed holding his wife, he had to remove his person from this bed. He carefully slipped his arm from around his wife. She screwed up her face, rolled to her other side, and at last, he was free to leave her bed without Mary being the wiser. At least until she awoke in a few hours.

  Once he had returned to his room, he glanced at the clock, and since it was already past five in the morning, he took care of his toilette and went to the stables. He saddled his horse and rode like the very devil until he had to slow the animal down, lest he do him injury.

  As he allowed his stallion to meander toward the house, he remembered he had that meeting with the runner. Hopefully, once the man had all the facts, he would return to the earl and the man would accept defeat. He would write Mary’s father a letter and give it to the runner to take to the earl. He could offer to pay the voucher held by the Marquess of Worthington. That should end the matter. No, that might not be wise, though, because the man would wonder how he knew of the debt. Perhaps he could offer to return a portion of Mary’s dowry, instead.

  He’d invite the earl and his sister to Wallingford Manor. Give him a chance to see that his daughter was content, even happy. Surely after that, her father would forgive them their indiscretion. Now that he had a plan, he felt much better about meeting with the runner.

  When he arrived home, he immediately penned the letter and sealed it using his uncle’s—no, it was his signet ring now—and went to breakfast.

  The runner arrived at nine o’clock, and while the man was not pleased, overall, the meeting went smoothly. He grudgingly agreed to deliver his letter to the earl.

  Over the next week, he delved into managing the estate and everything went well, other than firing Blakely. The man threatened all manner of evil, but in the end, he finally vacated the steward’s cottage. Mr. Adams agreed to take over as steward and even told him he could manage both estates since they were so close together.

  His aunt was teaching Mary how to manage the household, and the two of them spent the morning closeted in the housekeeper’s office with Mrs. Hadley. Aunt Marjorie was slowly regaining her cheerful demeanor, and she and Mary were getting along splendidly, which relieved him a great deal. He was fond of his aunt and wanted them to grow to love each other.

  He’d met with the vicar, and the man agreed to tutor Gerrard. He even offered to do it on a permanent basis, so that took care of another concern. Gerrard appeared to enjoy his daily lessons, and Aimee seemed content when he visited her each day. The nursemaid had started bringing the youngsters downstairs for tea, so his aunt could become better acquainted with them.

  Mary had taken it well when he told her they no longer needed to share a room. He had gone to her several times, but always made sure he left after they made love. He could see the longing in her eyes when he left her. It could not be helped. He would not risk having a nightmare with her by his side.

  A couple of nights later, he stayed in his study late, and did not go to Mary. It was a good thing too, because he’d awakened fighting the curtains and had ripped them from their hangings.

  He’d made up an excuse when Larken came in that morning, telling him he had tripped getting out of bed and had grabbed the bed curtains to keep from falling. His valet assured him he would mend and re-hang them before evening. As much as he missed having Mary beside him as he slept, after the episode last night, he had made the right decision. He would not put her in danger.

  The next day, he met Adams out front, and they were off to visit one of his tenants on the farthest corner of his property. As they rode across an open field, something shiny caught his eye. There was a loud crack, and his horse reared up.

  A searing pain raced across the top of his head, and he barely kept his seat.

  He managed to rein in his mount as something ran into his eyes.

  Could that be blood?

  By God, someone had shot him!

  He faintly heard Adams calling his name.

  Then darkness surrounded him, and he knew no more.

  ****

  Mary enjoyed the time she spent with Cortland’s aunt. Her admiration for the older woman grew daily. From what Cortland had told her, his aunt and uncle had loved each other deeply. Aunt Marjorie’s determination to move past her grief was extraordinary.

  They spent part of each morning with the housekeeper. Although Mrs. Hadley seemed young to have already achieved the status of her position, she came across as quite knowledgeable and had excellent rapport with her staff. While the woman appeared stern, underneath, she had a heart of gold.

  Mary grew more confident each day she spent with Aunt Marjorie and Mrs. Hadley. In fact, Cortland’s aunt assured her she was ready to take over and had turned over the keys to her that morning.

  The only thing troubling her was Cortland’s continued coolness toward her. Although he came to her almost every night, he always left once they made love. She missed sleeping with him, but he insisted he was too restless at night and did not want to disturb her sleep. It kept true intimacy from growing between them, and she hated it. Her feelings for her husband were growing stronger each day, and she greatly feared he had stolen her heart.

  She knew that Cortland respected her and enjoyed their moments of passion, but it seemed that he did not reciprocate her feelings…unless she could break through the wall he’d erected around his heart. She was not ready to accept defeat. There had to be some way she could win at least his affection, if not his heart.

  After the midday meal, Mary went upstairs to visit the children. She’d made a habit of going to the schoolroom each day, and she was growing quite fond of both the youngsters, Aimee in particular. The little girl craved love so much, and she appeared to desperately desire a mother. While she was not a clingy child, she did love to hug and be held. It broke her heart when she thought of all they had endured.

  While Gerrard was polite, he remained aloof. She did not believe it was because he wanted to be unfriendly. It was due to fear t
hat all this was not real, and their safety could vanish if he let his guard down. At least he did seem to enjoy the time he spent with Vicar Stevenson. The gentleman showed a great deal of patience with the lad, and Gerrard must be highly intelligent. He’d already mastered the English language and was understanding Greek and Latin with ease, although he had never been exposed to either of those languages before.

  After her visit ended, she made her way downstairs. As she reached the bottom step, the entry door burst open and a disheveled Mr. Adams rushed inside. His frantic expression sent a wave of anxiety through her. “Help. Lord Hardesty.” He sucked in a breath. “He’s gravely injured. He’s been shot!”

  Mary’s heart thundered so loudly she could hear it, and her pulse raced.

  She rushed forward as Wallis and a footman ran toward the steward. The butler asked, “Where is his lordship?”

  His chest heaving, Mr. Adams gasped, “Out front. Help me get him inside.”

  Not willing to meekly wait, Mary ran outside with the others following behind her. Cortland was slumped over the neck of his horse. The cloth wrapped around his head…soaked bright red with what could only be her husband’s blood. Mr. Adams and the footman reached Cortland, then eased him off the animal and laid him on the pavement.

  Mary flung herself on the ground beside him and frantically checked his neck for a pulse. While faint, she did feel it beating beneath her trembling fingers. “He’s alive. Get him inside and carry him to his room. Wallis.” Her tone came out brisk and commanding. “Send for the doctor.”

  The butler called for more footmen, and several came running out. Mr. Adams and three of the men picked Cortland up and carried him inside and up the stairs. Mary followed behind them until they reached the landing, then she hurried around them and flung the double doors open.

  Rushing to the bed, she jerked the covers down. The men laid Cortland on it and stepped away. She turned to Mr. Adams. “How did this happen?”

  The steward quickly told her the particulars, then added, “I managed to get him on the back of his horse and wrapped my shirt around his head to try to stanch the bleeding, but it isn’t working.”

  Cortland’s valet stepped forward with a bundle of white cloths. “If you will allow me, your ladyship, I will remove the shirt and assess the wound, then redress it and keep pressure on it to hopefully stop the bleeding.”

  “Please do what you can until the doctor arrives.” Her voice trembled, but she refused to give in to the rioting fear closing in on her. She shook it off and helped the valet with the dressings while they awaited the doctor.

  As Larken applied pressure, she loosened Cortland’s neck cloth and unbuttoned his shirt. The new wrappings were soon drenched with more blood. The next hour crept by as her husband remained unconscious, but the bleeding had slowed considerably and his pulse was steady. Mary had a rolling litany winging its way to God.

  At last, the door opened and a stout older gentleman entered with another wiry, younger man. Wallis introduced the older one as Mr. Radcliff, a surgeon who was visiting Dr. Hadden, the local doctor.

  Mary arose and approached them. “Thank you for coming.” She quickly filled them in on what had occurred. “Please help my husband.”

  The surgeon moved to the bed and unwrapped Cortland’s head and examined it. Then told her, “His head has definitely been grazed by a bullet, and the wound will require stitches. I know the blood is alarming, but head wounds do tend to bleed profusely, your ladyship. Now, if everyone will please vacate the room, I will commence surgery.”

  Mary resumed her place by her husband’s bedside. “I shall remain. I will not leave my husband. Please proceed, Mr. Radcliff.” She was astonished by the steel in her voice, but there was no way she would patiently wait outside his chamber while Cortland’s life hung in the balance.

  “This is highly inappropriate.” The surgeon blustered. “I must insist you leave, ma’am. While I understand your concern for your husband, what I must do is not a sight for a lady.”

  She glared at him. “I am not leaving. Now, please get on with it.”

  The surgeon must have realized any further argument would not change her mind. “Very well, but if you faint, I will not be able to attend you.”

  “I will not pass out.” Her tone came out brusque, but at this point she did not care.

  Mr. Radcliff glanced at the doctor and shrugged his shoulders. Dr. Hadden handed him his bag. The surgeon pulled out sewing implements and set to work.

  With each pull of the thread through her husband’s skin, she flinched inwardly, but did not let it show. After a dozen stitches, Mr. Radcliff at last tied off the last knot, then applied an ointment and bandaged the wound. Once he finished, he stated, “His lordship should recover. I will leave some of this ointment. Apply it every four hours. That should keep it from festering.”

  “When will he awaken, sir?” she asked.

  The surgeon hesitated, then replied, “While that is in God’s hands, his lordship appears to be in good health. His pulse is strong and steady, so I anticipate he will make a full recovery. If he does not awaken by morning, send for me.”

  Mary nodded. “Thank you for coming. Our butler will see you out.” Then she turned back to Cortland.

  She remained by his side all through the evening, fervently praying for him. When Larken changed the bandage, there was no signs of infection. Once he finished dressing the wound, he left her alone.

  As she remained by Cortland’s side, her head grew heavy, and she could no longer keep her eyes open. Just as she began to fall asleep, her husband moaned. “Cortland? Oh, my dear, please wake up.”

  He moaned a few more times, and his eyelids flickered and cracked open, but closed immediately. “Oh, God, my head hurts. What…happened?” His voice came out raspy. “Mary?”

  She rose and touched his forehead. It was cool and dry, a good sign. “Do you remember anything?”

  He attempted to open his eyes again and this time, they remained open. “I was with…Adams. I saw a glimmer of something and heard a loud crack, then my horse reared up. I almost lost my seat. I don’t remember anything else.”

  “Someone shot at you and the bullet grazed the top of your head. The surgeon stitched your wound. How do you feel?”

  “Like there’s a sledgehammer pounding on my skull.” He groaned and closed his eyes again. “What time is it?”

  She glanced at the mantel. “It’s just past midnight. I’m sorry, Cortland. I would give you laudanum, but the surgeon advised against it. Why don’t you try to sleep? I will remain with you.”

  “You need your rest as well. I’ll not be able to sleep knowing you are sitting in that uncomfortable chair.” How like him to be concerned over her welfare, even though he was injured and in a great deal of pain.

  “I’ll just rest beside you on the bed. The surgeon told me he wanted someone with you all the time for the next twelve hours.” She went to the other side of the bed and loosened her gown, then slipped between the sheets before he had a chance to protest.

  Cortland’s eyes showed a trace of hesitancy. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  A stab of pain slashed her heart. Her husband did not want her with him. While she did not want to upset him in his weakened condition, she would not give into him on this issue. “I disagree. Even though you may not enjoy sleeping with me anymore, I will not disobey the surgeon’s orders.”

  His eyes widened. “That’s not true. I love sleeping with you, but I just don’t want to hurt you. If I were to have a nightmare, I might accidentally lash out at you.”

  Astonished, she stared at him. “Is that why you always leave my bed after we make love?”

  “Of course it is,” he said. “Never think that it is because I don’t enjoy holding you as we sleep. Never that, but I will not put you at risk.”

  “I’m not afraid of you,” she declared. “You could never hurt me even if you did have a nightmare. It’s just not in you to do that. I will
not leave you, so just accept it.” She hated seeing his torment, and he truly did not need to worry over this right now. She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “We will speak more on this at another time. You need your rest. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

  While he still looked skeptical, he was obviously in too much pain to continue protesting. He sighed and closed his eyes. Cortland relaxed when she reached over and began to stroke his hand.

  Soon she heard his steady, even breathing and allowed herself to slip off as well, after saying a silent prayer for her husband’s recovery and asking God to help him let go of his demons.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Oxfordshire

  Late November 1803

  Cortland slowly opened his eyes, his head spinning and something pounding against his temples. The faint light filtered in through the crack in the drapes. He suspected his head would fly apart if the sun was high in the sky. He gingerly glanced around, and his eyes rested on his wife curled on her side inches apart from him. Thank God, his nightmare had stayed away. Although it shot pain through his head, he smiled.

  She looked so innocent and young, her cheeks flushed in sleep and her mouth slightly ajar. How had he been so fortunate to have met her? Surely God had sent him an angel. The peace he always experienced around her filled his soul. She was his salvation, and kept him calm. He had even been able to enjoy her touch without the aversion he’d experienced since his captivity.

  Then it became crystal clear, he had fallen in love with his wife. Although he had only known her for a short time, it did not matter. His heart would always belong to her, regardless of whether she ever returned his love. He would woo her and gain her heart. While he wanted to awaken her with kisses, he was in no condition now, but as soon as he recovered from his injury, he would court her as she deserved.