Gemstones

by Janet Lane-Walters

  Drew groaned. His eyes fluttered open. "Nicola."

  "Your fever has broken. You were so ill I feared I would lose you. We must turn you so the sheets can be changed. Prabha believes the evil has left your body and collected on them." She knelt on the bed and pulled him toward her.

  "Bevel?" he asked.

  "I sent him to his room. Three days and nights, he took care of you."

  "You shouldn't be doing this."

  "'Tis my place as your wife." She released him so he lay on his back on a roll of sheets. As she pulled the dirty sheets from beneath him, he saw a spot of bright blood.

  "Does my wound bleed again?"

  Her face turned scarlet. "Your wound is fine. All you need is rest."

  He closed his eyes. What had caused her blush? "I am tired, but we must talk about Crawford and other things."

  She smiled. "We will have time to talk. Rest while I order a breakfast tray."

  He pressed her hand to his lips. "A large one. I feel like I haven't eaten for days."

  Chapter 16

  Drew yawned and straightened. The first rays of the morning sun filtered around the heavy drapes covering the windows of his bedchamber. He listened for sounds from the dressing room.

  Where the devil was Bevel? Didn't the man realize the importance of the day? Last night, Dr. Rodgers had pronounced Drew nearly recovered and had granted permission for the patient to be out of bed the next day.

  Impatiently, Drew tugged on the bell pull. The sun had risen and so should he. His lengthy incarceration in this room would have ended at midnight if he'd been able to remain awake.

  During the long days of being an invalid, he'd counted every flower on the wall covering. He knew the location of every crack in the ceiling. Every hour, like a breeding rabbit, the mattress produced another lump to add to his discomfort. He felt like a child confined to bed as a punishment for some misdeed.

  The chamber door opened. Bearing a tray, Bevel entered. "Tea, my lord."

  Drew shook his head. "I want to get out of this bed and have my tea in one of the chairs before the fire. Where have you been? The sun has been up...."

  "For a quarter hour." Nicola appeared in the dressing room doorway. She laughed. "Your roar this morning puts me in mind of a man-eating tiger whose prey has escaped. Have patience."

  Her laughter made him grit his teeth. "For nearly two weeks, I've played the invalid." He clamped his lips to halt the whine in his voice. Not only did he feel like a child, his behavior smacked of the nursery.

  His eyes focused on his wife. The neckline of her canary morning dress captured his gaze. The swell of her breasts above the square cut bodice made him wish Bevel gone so he could explore and taste her lushness.

  Nicola motioned to Bevel. "Fetch the footstool from my room. Then we will help the Earl to a chair."

  "I think we should wait until his morning ablutions are completed."

  "I don't think he has the patience for a lengthy delay."

  "It will not take that long."

  "Have you forgotten I'm here?" Drew's voice crackled with anger.

  She shook her head. "I could never do that."

  The husky quality of her voice enhanced his discomfort and frustration. He couldn't grab her and do the things he wished. He couldn't kiss her until she cried for release. Because his behavior on their wedding night had been less than polished, patience had to be cultivated. If he hadn't acted the fool, Crawford would never have abducted Nicola and Drew wouldn't be a prisoner in this bed.

  "You don't have to play at nursemaid," he said. "Bevel and I will manage."

  She patted his hand. "'Twill take two. You've been fevered and abed for days. Dr. Rodgers doesn't want you to stand on your right leg. If you should fall, Bevel would be crushed beneath you." She frowned. "Perhaps I should call for two footmen to carry you to the chair."

  The thought of the entire household being privy to his weakness was intolerable. "You and Bevel then."

  She kissed his brow. "I thought you would see the practicality of my decision."

  He kept his lips firmly pressed together. Had she any idea of how the proximity of her breasts stirred him? If he raised his head an inch or two, he could touch her nipples with his tongue. He pressed his hands against the mattress. Why hadn't she sent Bevel to London for the footstool?

  When Nicola straightened, his thoughts turned perverse. What did it matter if the valet witnessed a moment of affection between a husband and his wife? Drew groaned. Who but himself would be this fool? Need, desire, lust was what he felt. He had to turn his thoughts from his need to possess his wife before he frightened her.

  "Is there a problem?" she asked.

  "Where is that man?"

  "He has been gone but a few minutes. You must have patience."

  "I'm not a child to be scolded."

  She laughed. "You sound like a rather surly one." She crossed the room and moved one of the armchairs at an angle to the fireplace.

  Moments later, Bevel arrived with the footstool. He followed Nicola's directions and placed it in front of the newly positioned chair. With Bevel's assistance, Drew moved to the edge of the bed. While the valet supported his injured leg, Drew sat up. He gripped the edge of the mattress. The furniture in the room wavered. He felt as though he had boarded a ship in the middle of a storm. He swallowed. Surely he wouldn't swoon. That condition was for elderly ladies or hysterical young women, not a man and in particular, not an Earl.

  Nicola sat on the bed beside him. "Just wait a few minutes to allow your blood to settle. I've heard dizziness often results from a long confinement. Should I fetch Grandmother's --"

  "No vinaigrette. I'm fine and we're wasting time."

  "Your robe, my lord."

  Drew shook his head. "My clothes, Bevel. I need to go down to my study." He placed his right foot on the carpet and attempted to stand. A stabbing pain made him gasp.

  Nicola took the dressing gown from Bevel and draped it over Drew's shoulders. "I fear your study must wait unless you want to be carried downstairs."

  He made a face. "I can see you're right. I'm not even sure I can walk the short distance to the chair." He slipped his arm into the sleeves of his dressing gown.

  Nicola put her arm around his waist. "Bevel and I will support you while you hop."

  By the time they reached the chair, he felt as though he'd worked a full morning in the fields. His chest heaved. His muscles trembled and his heart hammered. He leaned against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

  Nicola laughed. "'Twill be easier the next time." She brushed a kiss on his cheek. "I'll go down and see that a breakfast tray is prepared." She hurried from the room.

  He accepted the cup of tea from Bevel. Though he hated his weakness, he planned to use this time to court his wife until her desire for him matched his for her. He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "A shave, Bevel."

  "Very good, my lord."

  * * * *

  By the time Drew finished breakfast, he felt stronger. He wished Nicola had stayed, but she'd left to speak to Cook and Mrs. Bowen. Then she planned to give her sisters their lessons for the day.

  He stared at the door. If he had crutches or a cane like Ramsey had used, he could leave this room. He'd never been ill before and couldn't imagine how anyone took pleasure in being an invalid. Did anyone know how the hours dragged when a person was forced into solitude?

  He reached for the book on the table. When he opened the leather bound volume, he frowned. He supposed the markings had some meaning, but they were unlike any writing he'd ever seen. He'd watched his wife turn pages in this book as though she were reading the latest Minerva Press novel. He put the book down and wondered if this was the one she had quoted on their wedding night.

  With a groan, he remembered the way she'd responded to his kisses and caresses. Her eagerness had been so exciting he'd nearly lost control. What would have happened if he had? Before his thoughts spiraled downward into another cycle of guilt an
d regret, he turned his thoughts toward estate matters.

  The door opened. Nicola crossed the room and sat on the other chair. "Sarad has some questions for you. Would you like to see him now?"

  "After luncheon," Drew said. "Bevel is off to the village on an errand. I'd thought we might spend some time together."

  "That would be pleasant."

  "Move your chair closer."

  When she did, Drew reached for her hand. "I'd like to begin anew. Tell me about the things you like to do."

  She turned to face him. "There isn't much. I've always been too busy for fun, except when Sarad and I escaped from the house to explore the markets and temples. We went to a market in Oxford, but 'tis not the same as the ones in Calcutta."

  He stroked her hand with his fingers, slowly moving upward. "And the temples. I've heard they are nothing like our churches."

  She laughed. "The English in Calcutta thought the temples shocking and pagan. In their own way, they were beautiful. The walls were often covered with carved reliefs and jeweled statues abounded."

  "Such as the ones found in the India parlor."

  She nodded. "Sort of but larger and more...more ornate." Her face turned pink. "In one...there were statues of men and women...." She caught her lower lip between her teeth and looked away. A wave of grief washed through her. She'd visited that temple, the night her papa had been wounded.

  "What's wrong?"

  "A memory of a bad time."

  Drew continued his gentle stroking until his fingers touched the puffed sleeve of her dress. Her embarrassment about the statues enhanced his curiosity. "Were they temple dancers?"

  Scarlet stained her cheeks. "You could say that."

  His fingers touched her shoulder. He felt her respond to his touch. "Nicola, I want to kiss you, but you are beyond my reach."

  She rose and went to him. He put his hands on her waist.

  With a thud, the door banged against the wall. Nicola jumped back. Drew growled.

  "My lord, I'm so glad the tales are true and you are up." Margaret stood on the threshold with a white bundle in her arms. "We were most worried and Nica wouldn't let us visit you."

  "I'm sorry you were worried," Drew said. "As you can see, I'm well on the way to recovery. Did you want something?" The bundle in her arms moved.

  "How did you guess?" Margaret stepped into the room. "Sarad says you've advertised for a governess. I don't want to be a pest, but is such a person necessary?"

  Nicola walked toward her sister. "Without someone to spark your interest in learning, you will spend all your time in the garden and the stables."

  "If he chooses one, I fear we'll be stuck with another Miss Smythe." Margaret rushed past Nicola and nearly stumbled into the footstool. "I pity the next student she finds. Even if she is meek, she will ruin her. She boasted about her cruel actions. Is there a way you can keep her from obtaining a post?"

  "I gave her no letter of recommendation."

  The bundle in Margaret's arm definitely moved. A strange cry emerged from the blanket.

  "Are you sure that's enough?" Margaret asked.

  "I can think of nothing else to do."

  "Margaret, what do you have?" Nicola asked.

  "Lucinda."

  "Have you taken to stealing babies from the tenants?" Drew tried to think which of the families boasted a newborn child.

  "A sick room is no place for an infant," Nicola said.

  "'Tis not a child." Margaret opened the blanket to reveal a small pink pig. "'Twas the runt and was to be destroyed. I snatched her and brought her home."

  Drew looked at Nicola. Her hand covered her mouth but he saw laughter in her eyes.

  "A pig," Nicola said. "What will you do with a pig?"

  "Keep her in my room."

  "There you are," Elizabeth cried. "Tell her she can't drag another animal into our rooms."

  "Lucinda is most docile," Margaret said. "'Sides, you are moving into the room Nica had."

  "'Twill not be far enough from that creature. The beast will turn your room into more of a sty than it already is."

  Drew couldn't contain his laughter. A burst of sound escaped. Margaret and Elizabeth stared.

  Nicola turned her back to the scene. How would her husband handle this wrangling? Since his injury, both girls had been thoughtful and kind to each other. Drew's recovery had broken the truce.

  "Margaret, you may keep Lucinda." He held up his hand. "But only if you keep her from creating havoc in your room and if you refrain from driving a second governess from this house."

  "'Tis not fair," Elizabeth said. "She always gets her way."

  Drew nodded. "I'm sure it appears that way, but I have a task for you. Margaret said there are letters from several women seeking the position of governess. Would you read the letters and select the ones to be interviewed?

  Nicola nearly laughed at the expression on Elizabeth's face. "Just remember, she will be your governess as well," Nicola said.

  Elizabeth smiled and turned to leave. "My lord, 'tis good to see you are feeling better. There have been so many visitors asking about your health." She grabbed Margaret's arm. "A pig. I suppose 'twill not be worse than living with frogs, snakes and bugs."

  Nicola closed the door. The interruption had broken the cord of rapport between Drew and herself. She had learned one important fact. Her curiosity about the length of time her husband needed to recover his powers had been satisfied. Two weeks, she thought. 'Twas a shame for her desire arose each time she looked at him. She returned to the chair beside him.

  "You handled my sisters with great diplomacy." She sighed. "I believe they delight in their wrangles."

  "I fear you're right." He grasped her hand and placed a kiss on her palm.

  A delicious warmth encompassed her. She thought about his tanned, muscular body and how his flesh had felt when touching hers. The heat increased. She felt as fevered as he'd been just days before.

  "Come," he said.

  Why had she thought his eyes were as hard as gemstones? Bright and alive with desire, his gaze drew her from the chair and into his arms. As she sat on his lap, she felt the proof of his renewed powers. His hands framed her face and his thumbs stroked her neck. His lips touched hers. She opened her mouth.

  Nicola heard a rap on the door. The knocking grew insistent. Drew inhaled. "It seems we're to have no peace."

  Nicola sighed. "I fear you're right." She rose and opened the door. "Grandmother, is there a problem?"

  "I don't see why no one thought to tell me Drew felt fit enough to be out of bed." The Dowager walked past Nicola. "My boy, are you sure this kind of activity is not too much."

  Drew laughed. "Aunt Aldora, don't fret over me. As you see, I've not gone far."

  "Why should I not fret? You worry about me when I'm ill." She smiled. "I'm glad to see you are well and I plan to steal your nurse. There are bride calls to be made."

  Nicola approached her grandmother. "I don't wish to leave Drew yet." She glanced at her husband. His gaze kindled the fires she'd banked on her grandmother's entrance. "I would rather wait until Drew is fully recovered."

  "Perhaps you're right," the Dowager said.

  "If you wish to go calling, why not take the girls," Nicola said.

  "A brilliant idea." Drew murmured.

  Nicola's smile broadened. "I'm sure my sisters are weary of their confinement to the house."

  The Dowager nodded. "I'll take Elizabeth. She is of an age to learn social graces."

  "And not Margaret?" Drew asked.

  "La, the child is a hoyden and would want to bring the pig. How could you indulge her so? I thought you believed she lacked discipline."

  "She does but I believe time is the cure for the problem. Convey mine and Nicola's greetings and our thanks for the wedding gifts."

  "As well as my apologies for being remiss about writing notes of thanks."

  The Dowager kissed Drew's cheeks. "Don't stay up until you are exhausted." She smiled. "I remem
ber all the times I told you this in the past and you didn't obey. Will you listen this time?"

  "Perhaps."

  Once the door closed behind the Dowager, Nicola didn't wait for an invitation. She resumed her seat on Drew's lap and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I hope we've seen the last of them."

  "For several hours." His lips found hers and his hands stroked the skin left exposed by her low-cut bodice. Nicola felt her nipples bead. She sighed when he slid a finger into the valley between her breasts.

  When they heard another knock, Nicola giggled and Drew laughed. "'Tis karma," she said.

  "Karma?"

  "Fate." She rose and adjusted her dress before going to the door. Sarad and a tall man of middle years stood in the hall. Nicola suppressed an urge to smack her friend. "Yes," she said.

  "Nic...my lady, this is Martin Grove. Mr. Grey sent him to speak to the Earl about the position as estate manager. I also have a number of matters that require the Earl's attention."

  She stepped back. "I'll leave you gentlemen and see about luncheon."

  "And arrange to have dinner here with me," Drew said.

  Nicola closed the door. Though she could have stayed and perhaps added her assessment of Mr. Grove, being in her husband's company would only increase the frustration she felt.

  *****

  Prepared to eat another dinner at her husband's bedside, Nicola walked to his room. Their days had fallen into a pattern that filled her with impatience. For a week, they'd had little time to spend in each other's company. A steady stream of visitors, neighbors, tenants, Sarad, Mr. Grove, her sisters and the Dowager, had flowed through Drew's room. Soon after the dinner hour, her husband fell asleep when she would rather have been in his arms.

  When she entered his room, she saw the chair in front of the fireplace was empty. Her smile became a frown. She glanced toward the bed. "Drew." His laughter caused her to spin around. He stood at the window. "Should you be walking?"

  He lifted a silver-headed cane. "Niall left this behind and Greene brought it to me yesterday morning. I've been practicing. I believe we'll join the family for dinner."