Then a loud clap filled the night air, Will transforming into a movie director, hands outstretched, eyes glazed toward the full moon. “Maybe we should just move onto the kissing phase, with you and Jasmine having your first kiss.” He then snapped his fingers a series of three times toward Holly. “Get Jasmine on the phone.”
Not Jasmine, Edmund thought. He still needed to recover from their first date. Not only did she rattle endlessly about marrying a “rich, British guy,” she asked him a stream of unanswerable questions regarding his wealth.
Tonight, he just wanted to be with Abby.
Placing a firm arm around Will’s shoulder, he led him away from the others. “Despite what you think, we should show some compassion and not rush to judgment on this. Just because Abby isn’t a legitimate contestant doesn’t mean we treat her with any less worthiness when it comes to this godforsaken show.”
His friend choked back a laugh. “When did you grow a conscience?”
When Edmund didn’t answer him, Will scoffed, his shoulders drooping in submission. “Fine. Then what do you suggest we do? Go home?”
“Yes, go home. I’ll ring you later.”
Will rolled his eyes before turning back toward Joe and Holly. “Let’s go. Nothing to see here.”
Edmund let out a breath until Will jerked back in his direction, a finger pointed at his chest. “The producer is pressuring me for drama, Edmund. I don’t care if we have to make something up, we need more viewers and more tweets circulating about this show.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Satisfied to a point, Will stalked off with Joe and Holly trailing behind. As the van left, Edmund stood outside the store, staring at his image in the window. When he blinked, Raify appeared to his left, staring into the window with him.
“She’s sick,” she said at his reflection.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Then why are you still here, Lord Rushwood? It seems to me you’ve always had someone take care of you. What do you know of taking care of someone else?”
He lifted his thumb and index finger to massage the bridge of his nose. He understood the woman was only looking after Abby’s well-being. However, Raify’s strange interventions were beginning to give him a headache.
“I might surprise you,” he said, continuing to carry on the conversation as she did, in the What Goes Around shop window.
“I cannot be surprised, my lord. I can only be educated.”
He laughed at her response and then shook his head. “And how do I proceed to educate you, madam?”
“Prove your worth.”
He laughed louder this time. “I am a lord with a manor valued—”
She clapped her hands to silence him. “Your worth to another human being, not yourself.”
He’d no sooner taken a pressing breath when the air changed direction and the locks clicked open. Just as before, he turned to find himself alone, without the woman beside him.
Rattled by Raify’s presence and sudden disappearance, he hesitated to enter the store. One day, he’d figure out what made her such an unearthly being. For now, he let himself inside, closing and locking the door behind him before slowly walking up the stairway and into Abby’s room. He found her with her face down, lying sideways across her futon bed. She had a thick white towel draped over her head and a humidifier humming beneath her face.
He moved nearer and said close to her ear, “Abby.”
Chapter Thirteen
Edmund stood surprised, his voice not even making Abby flinch.
“I’m too weak and too dizzy to care how you got in. Are you alone?”
“Yes, I’m alone.”
She peeked from under her terrycloth tent, and then collapsed backward with the towel over her face. “Please go away,” she said, her voice muffled. Of course, her conviction was stolen by her lack of healthy vigor.
As he remained there, she blew her nose on a ready tissue and threw it toward a wastebasket next to the bed, missing widely. With nowhere else to sit, he eased himself on the edge of the extended futon, lifting his hand to pull down the towel from her head. She protested with a soft groan. Despite her nose resembling a cherry and her eyes half-closed from misery, she was still Abby, adorable and ready for a verbal battle.
He leaned forward and brought up his hand, checking her forehead. She was burning up.
“Abby, you have a fever.”
She groaned and sank deeper into her pillow, bringing the towel back with her. He watched as she blew her nose again and attempted to make another shot toward the wastebasket. Edmund ducked to keep from being hit.
“I really don’t want you to see me like this,” she muttered, squinting.
“What, with a bright red nose, and your hair all a mess?” She answered him with another groan. He meant to tease her. “It’s not your fault, you know.”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “Of course it isn’t. It’s yours.”
He smiled. “It’s mine?”
“Yes,” she said, her nasally voice further muffled by the covers she’d just thrown over her face. “Yours. If you hadn’t gotten bored, thought of me, dropped by, bounced on my bed, and lost your phone, I would not have gone to give it back.”
He’d actually prepared to tell her everything, to stand before her and admit how being a selfish bastard had started this whole fiasco. The thought of not seeing her again, however, caused him to say something else. “I’m not sure, but I think you just said you want us to bounce together on the bed, with you on your…back.”
He prepared himself as she popped up. “That’s not what I said.”
Unable to hold back, he started to laugh, an infectious gesture that caused her lips to curve upward as well.
“Pathetic,” she said.
He smiled and lifted his hand to tame down some of her unruly honey blonde hair: the longest strands falling in soft waves passed her shoulder blades. “How about you let me spread eucalyptus ointment all over your delicious body?”
Her glassy eyes widened. “Oh, that actually sounds good.”
Edmund chuckled, enamored over her ability to excite and humor him at the same time. “So, have you had a bite of anything today?”
She shook her head and then grunted, her face showing signs of instant regret at the sudden movement. “I haven’t been that hungry, and since I was too out of it to get groceries, I don’t have much that’s appetizing.”
He stood and wandered toward the kitchen. “Do you have some chicken soup?”
“No.”
He took the liberty of sifting through the refrigerator and opening her four narrow cabinets. After a quick survey, he shook his head and turned back to where she lay.
“You weren’t joking, were you?” Besides some ice cream, a few slices of American cheese, three pouches of apple juice, a bottle of honey, a canister of sugar, a jar of pickles, a full box of marshmallow cereal, saltine crackers, half a jar of peanut butter, an opened packet of cold medicine, and a box of Earl Grey tea, there was nothing else to eat.
“You know, if you were pregnant, I think you’d be set,” he said over his right shoulder. He heard her groan.
He fumbled his way through the tiny kitchen, filling the kettle with hot water and turning a baking pan into a makeshift food tray by using a clean red and white checkered dishcloth.
As she waited, she tilted her head toward him, wiggling her nose as another sneeze threatened to burst forward. “I’m still not sure about you. You haven’t explained Delphine or Blaire.”
“Hmm, that’s odd. I was quite sure I did.”
He liked that the idea that the knowledge of those women bothered her. It was selfish, sure, but it meant she cared more about him than she revealed. To be honest, he had nothing to hide regarding either Delphine or Blaire. They meant nothing to him, nor had they ever.
Channeling Timmons, Edmund walked over and began fluffing up a few pillows, placing them gently behind Abby’s head. He then lifted the quilt th
at had slipped onto the floor and placed it at her feet. When she shivered, he placed it over her and tucked the blanket in at her legs, exhilarated by the simple act of making her comfortable.
Close to her, in a low tone, he confessed. “Blaire is my father’s cousin’s cousin, a relative of sorts, and an old acquaintance. She was engaged to be married until she caught her fiancé shagging another girl in the hotel bathroom.”
Abby arched her brow at him. “That’s horrible…and disgusting.”
He agreed. “I was at her wedding when the misdeed occurred. When I left to come here, I told her she could stay at a flat I keep in London. That’s all that happened.” He paused a moment to see if Abby believed a word of what he even said. At this point, he couldn’t tell.
“As for Delphine…” he sighed. “She is a delusional actress I met three years ago who likes to play the part of a dejected French girl. She calls me at least four times a year to remind me she still exists. Do you have any candles?”
Abby lifted a finger toward a Chinese cabinet near the tub. “First drawer on the right.” She hesitated before asking, “So, you are free to marry?”
When Abby’s question didn’t stop him dead in his tracks, he glanced back toward her. She sent him a curious look and waited for his answer. He smiled. “Yes, I am free to marry.”
He expected his heart to constrict and his stomach to twist at the admission. They did neither. As the revelation sank deep inside his soul, Abby continued to gaze at him, her hand coming up to play with the locket at her throat. One day he’d ask who she held inside.
Behind him the kettle whistled. He jerked back to the tasks to which he’d committed himself, enjoying his role as caretaker. He questioned where this came from—his mother, perhaps, when he was still very young and she was still very much in love with his father. On occasion, he did remember her friend, Dowager Hemsley, who found time to show him some motherly affection when no one else was paying attention. He supposed it was one of the reasons he always agreed to escort her to the art shows. Widowed at a young age without children, he felt sorry for her. Of course, remembering her made him recall what she’d said to him a few short weeks ago.
“I know you have some compassion buried under all that resentment, Edmund. I just hope one day you don’t dismiss the person who might help you uncover it.”
He shook off her profound warning and continued to prepare Abby’s tray, dressing it with some tea and peanut butter crackers. He lit two of her vanilla-scented candles and then poured an even dose of cold medicine in two mismatched shot glasses.
She sat up, amusement lighting her feverish face. He placed the tray upon her lap and handed her the thick purplish liquid.
“Here’s to our first official date.”
She clinked her glass with his and guzzled down the medicine, smacking her lips together. “You know, this isn’t half bad.”
He threw back his portion, choking on a sudden burst of sweetness followed by a lingering medicine aftertaste. “You are sick,” he said, the awful drug coating the back of his throat.
After Abby nibbled on a few crackers and sipped some of her tea, he lifted the tray to place on the nearby nightstand. Then, as if he’d known her all his life, he bent down to push at her hips so that she lay closer to the wall. For amusement, he sat down and wiggled into a comfortable spot, taking a half minute to make a few adjustments.
As he’d hoped, Abby smiled, bright and happy. “Careful, you don’t get any splinters, my lord.”
He sent her a sideways glance. “I’m finding that a torturous, yet fascinating hazard to contemplate at the moment.”
He winked, delighting in her expression as her eyes widened with wistful understanding.
She smiled, her eyes drooping a bit. “Oh, right,” she said, the medicine beginning to take its effect, her words languid and honest. “You prefer them on top.”
Not them…you, Abby. It was a thoughtless confession, one that lit a fire through his veins and caused his pants to pull snug across his groin. “So,” he began, adjusting himself and resting his back against the wall at the head of her bed.
“So,” she interjected, “tell me about you, who you are, what you do.”
He opened his mouth to answer, and realized he didn’t do much of anything except to entertain the party crowd and order Timmons around. “All right, but you promise not to interrupt.”
“I promise,” she said, lifting her finger to cross over his heart. He didn’t know what the hell they put in cold medicine these days, but he’d have to remember it the next time he wanted to indulge in an expensive bottle of wine.
On a sigh, she tilted her head down to meet his shoulder, the fiery warmth of her skin penetrating through his shirt.
“Once upon a time,” he said, remembering how she’d started the story of her life, “I lived in a grand castle with a baby dragon for a pet.”
Her quiet voice lifted to him. “A baby dragon, how wonderful. What was his name?”
“Her name was Arthur.”
“I had a goldfish named Arthur. He died, and we had to flush him down the toilet.”
Her voice sounded tired, and he shifted closer. She was soft in all the right places. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, imagining exploring every part of her. For now, he flipped his eyelids back open and crossed his left arm in front of him to caress her elbow. Then he tried to remember what they were discussing.
“Where was I?’
“My Arthur…down the toilet.”
“Oh, yes. That’s most unfortunate, dear Abby, for my pet dragon lived quite a long time.”
“Hmm, that must have been nice.”
He paused, stirred by recalling her tragic life and how many people she’d lost. Despite her not being one of the many wealthy people he knew, she still saw her life as full and good. How many people did he know who did this? None.
“Enough about me, Abby,” he whispered. “Where was your castle?”
She sighed. “Here, I think.”
He was shocked to hear this. This place could barely fit one person, much less three.
He drew her closer against him, hearing the sadness in her voice. He didn’t say anything, turning to lay a kiss against her soft hair. He listened to her breathing until it quieted and her body relaxed against his ribcage. He held her until he felt her fever break and a healthy color returned to her cheeks.
Before leaving, he blew out the candles and wrote her a small note, placing it on her copy of Jane Eyre.
Chapter Fourteen
Abby moaned and lifted the covers from over her head, her mind darting back to falling asleep in Edmund’s arms.
Although most of the evening was a feverish blur, she still remembered how his palm pressed against her forehead, how his fingers caressed her elbow after they’d shared a shot of cold medicine together. Her mind still fuzzy, she glanced to where he’d laid beside her, the warmth of his masculine scent still lingering. She wondered if it was wrong to wish he’d stayed. Yes, she thought, recalling the warnings she’d received from both Delphine and Blaire.
Still, Abby’s heart fluttered, anticipating her and Edmund’s next moment together, their next conversation. For this to happen, however, she had to make it through the next round.
Anxious and sore, she rolled onto her stomach, her gaze falling to a scribbled note lying atop Jane Eyre. She stretched to retrieve it, smiling at his fine, eloquent handwriting.
I had a good time with you. Meet me at the café. You snore. Edmund.
She’d planned to stay in bed one more day. Only the notion of him wanting to see her again, gave her a reason to take a bath and get dressed. She trudged through both and wandered downstairs to find Raify sitting on the loveseat, drinking a cup of fragrant tea. Abby braced herself for one of the woman’s many lectures.
“Good morning,” Abby said to her friend, taking a seat beside her.
Raify tilted her head forward so her large hat hid all of her face. “It is a lovely m
orning, my dear, and you look…” The woman lifted her head this time, the hat sloping at a forty-five degree angle the other way. “You look radiant.”
“Oh,” Abby said, surprised. “I should look awful after being sick the last couple of days.”
Raify brought the china cup to her lips and sipped, taking her time to enjoy the drink before commenting. “I assume Lord Rushwood left after discovering this?”
Abby dipped her chin toward her chest, unable to hide the smile spreading across her face. “No, he fixed me crackers and stayed with me until I fell asleep. He was actually quite charming.”
“Hmm,” said Raify, with a whimsical hum before taking another dainty sip of her tea.
Abby wondered what her friend might be up to, but knew better than to ask. Raify divulged what she wanted when she wanted, not one minute sooner.
“Will you be here when I get back, Raify? Edmund asked me to meet him for breakfast.”
“But, I thought you didn’t eat breakfast.”
“Hmm,” Abby said with a smirk, standing and leaning down to give her friend a quick kiss on her soft cheek.
It had started to rain when Abby caught the seven-fifteen bus to the café, finding Edmund at the booth with enough food around him to feed all his seven brides. He was dressed in a black jacket thrown over a white shirt, the buttons unfastened to expose just enough of his masculine chest. God, he was sexy. More than that, however, he was almost compassionate.
“Abby,” he called to her, sending her a genuine, heart-stopping smile. “You look—”
She held her palms up and outward. “Don’t say it.”
“I was going to say breathtaking.”
Abby wondered what ingredient they put in cough medicine to make her appearance both radiant and breathtaking, especially after she felt like she’d been run over by a street sweeper, several times.
From nervous habit, she clutched the locket at her throat. The words her mother told her when she received the locket still echoed in her mind.
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