She didn’t want to leave him. For some strange reason she thought if she stayed with him he’d heal. “I’ll nip down and grab some food.” She’d also find Richard and ask what happened to Glover. Then she couldn’t wait to meet Claire.
Chapter 7
Waves of pain wracked his body. The bloody stitching hurt like hell. He had been lying here for hours now and the pain had lessened, as long as he didn’t move and pull on the stitches. Clary tried to stay asleep, to stay immersed in a dream world where nothing hurt, but his pain was belligerent. As he drifted awake he could hear her soft voice reading to him.
The opium made him dream, and he dreamed of the kiss they’d shared and the softness of her curves under his hands. Clary had wished he’d let them explore her body but the kiss had taken him by surprise. Her lips tasted so sweet, and when she enthusiastically returned his kiss his mind froze. He’d imagined she’d be dismayed but she’d moved closer, pushing against his hardness. Now that he’d tasted heaven he wanted more.
Helen must have noted that he was waking up because he heard the chair scrape and her scent filled his nostrils as she leaned over him. She pressed her hand to his forehead, no doubt looking for signs of a temperature, which would indicate infection.
This time he did not need to ask, a glass was at his lips within moments and the fresh apple cider was like nectar to his parched mouth, fuzzy from the opium. He drank more this time.
His side hurt as if a hot poker was burning his flesh but he bit through the pain wanting to learn about Glover.
“Where’s Richard?” he managed to ask.
“I’ll fetch him,” and then she was gone and he had to fight the pain to keep the cider down. Her presence seemed to not just ease the pain, but kept his mind from feeling it.
Just when he thought he could not go without more opium, her scent wafted back in and his pain knew she was here. He could again hold it at bay.
He forced his eyes open and saw her beautiful, worried face staring at him, her luscious bottom lip between her teeth.
“He needs more opium,” she threw over her shoulder to the person behind her.
“No. Not yet,” he forced his dry throat to say. “I want Richard to tell me what happened.”
Richard drew near. “We stormed the warehouse as you planned. No casualties on our side but two of Glover’s men died. We found a small group of children, not just those from this orphanage but others that had been taken off the streets too.”
“And Glover?” Clary was hurting pretty bad now and wished Richard would hurry up.
Richard looked away. “He got away, but we captured two of his men and we’re questioning them now.”
Damn. Now Glover could scurry off and continue his trade elsewhere. “We have to find him. I’ll talk to Her Grace about offering a reward.”
“No need to wait. I can authorize a reward. I’ll pay it out of my own money if I have to.”
Of course Helen would be able to organize the funds needed. It was the reminder he needed that she was not of his world. “Thank you. Now could I please have some opium?” Everything else could wait. His pain could not.
* * *
—
He didn’t know how long he’d slept this time, but as always Helen was there, soothing him. You’d think with the agony he was in that he would not have such erotic dreams. In every dream Helen was naked and he was ravishing her as if he would die without her touch.
They were in his study, the drapes were pulled wide and the sun streamed in, the windows were open and the fragrance of the flowers from the garden below filled the room to mingle with her heady lilac scent.
She was lying naked, spread-eagled on his desk, her thighs parted in wanton invitation as she pleasured herself while he watched.
He would take his time stripping his clothes off as he watched her erotic display. Her breasts bounced as her movements became more frantic, her fingers dipping within her body in quickening thrusts. Her back arched off the desk as she neared her climax. He would order her to open her eyes and then just before she came he would lower his mouth to her, remove her fingers, and replace them with his tongue.
He would lick and suck and plunge his tongue deep while she found her release, screaming his name. Only then would he climb farther between her thighs and plunge his pulsating hard cock deep within her tight sheath.
He would take her slowly, then hard and fast, alternating between the two until he drove them both to the edge of reason.
He would make her come again, and then he would start over, until with one of her turgid nipples in his mouth he would pound into her until they climaxed together.
It was as if his heart knew that she could only ever be his in his dreams.
He awoke, sweaty and aroused, to find the room in darkness and he knew immediately Helen was not there. Thank God, because he was hard and aching from the dream. He bit back his moan of pain.
“Drink, my friend.”
Christ, it was Blake but he jumped at the sound of his voice. “No more opium. The pain is bearable, and the opium makes my head swim and my throat as dry as if I’d swallowed sand.” Blake was there with the cider. Clary was allowed to drink more than before and Blake made him also take a bit of soup into his system. He didn’t realize how hungry he was until he smelled the chicken broth.
Once he’d finished Blake helped him with his ablutions and then Clary decided he needed to get up and find Richard. He made to throw back the covers.
Blake’s hand stopped him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’re to stay in bed until the skin starts to knit closed. You know if you tear that deep cut open you’re more susceptible to infection. Besides, I don’t want my nice, neat stitches to be for nothing. That work took me over two hours.”
“I bloody know. It was my skin you were piercing with that needle.”
“Don’t be such a woman. The opiates helped. You were out of your mind. You kept blabbering about Lady Helen and her soft curves.” Blake’s face lost its smile. “I am hoping you’ve not been stupid enough to dally with Her Grace’s sister. You risk a lot and you do so much good for these orphanages.”
“I won’t even grace that comment with an answer.”
“I don’t blame you; she is very beautiful.”
Physical beauty didn’t interest him. He knew firsthand that beauty could hide the devil himself within. “You of all people should know how wary of beauty I am.”
“She doesn’t know that though. That face of yours could get you in trouble one day. The aristocracy does tend to take a dim view of young ladies being led astray. Why don’t you find a nice woman and settle down. Have children of your own. You deserve to be happy.”
“I—I—there are already so many homeless and parentless children I’d rather help them.” He didn’t want children of his own. How would he provide for them? He had a good job now, and he was saving as much money as he could. But if anything went wrong—Helen’s face swam into view in his head—he could be out on the streets in an instant. Or what if something happened to him? To their mother? What if they were left alone without someone to protect and care for them? He could not bear the thought of any child of his enduring his childhood.
“I see the way you watch her, as if in awe. No one is perfect, if that is what you think. She’s just a woman like any other—albeit one with pedigree and money.”
Helen was different. She was kind, caring, and compassionate, very different from the rich ladies that sometimes propositioned him. “I am perfectly aware of what I risk and there will be no leading astray.” The memory of the kiss they shared burned bright in his memory.
“It’s not just your position you risk. I don’t want to see you get hurt. Does she know of your past?” His look must have given Blake his answer. “Well, she seems to have more than a passing interest in you. Lady Helen is sleeping now but I had to pry her from your side.” Blake’s raised eyebrow said it all.
He answered truthfully. “
She should go home. It’s not proper for her to be here so long. Nor is it safe. Glover will be out for revenge.”
“You’ll get no argument from me. But for some reason her ladyship won’t leave you. If you really want to put a stop to this infatuation, perhaps you should tell her how you came to be in her sister’s employ.”
Shame made him wince at Blake’s words. “Christ, no. And it will stay that way,” he told his friend for good measure. “Stop scowling. I have not encouraged her.”
Blake gave a laugh. “You never have to. That face of yours is enough to encourage a nun.”
That was hardly his fault. He’d been managing infatuated women and men since he was nine years old. “Lady Helen could have any man she wishes. I’m sure she will soon move on and forget me. She’s merely infatuated because she has become emotionally engaged with the orphanage and what we are trying to do for the children.”
“We shall see, but if you are not interested in causing a scandal I’d knock this—whatever it is—on the head immediately. You’ll have to send for Her Grace. If anyone can get Lady Helen to leave it will be her sister.”
Clary snorted. “You will soon learn that for the likes of us, it’s very difficult to force a ‘lady’ to do anything she does not want.”
Blake nodded. “I’ll get Mrs. Thorn to send word to Her Grace.” His smile faded away. “I know you probably won’t listen but you need to let the stitches take properly before you try to go after Glover.”
“Can I return to my accommodations?”
“In a few days.”
“We might need Mrs. Thorn to fetch Her Grace then.”
Blake laughed. When Clary did not join in, his friend looked at him strangely, studying his face. “You’re afraid of Lady Helen.”
For once he thanked God for his ability to lie to someone’s face. “Don’t be ridiculous.” So many times he’d had to tell a client he enjoyed their touch when it made his skin crawl. It made it so easy for him to block out anything he did not want to hear or experience. “But perhaps it would be better if I simply went home?” He’d be safe from Helen’s ministrations; she’d never be able to visit him in his bachelor quarters.
“If you travel home you’ll need someone to come in and change the bandages at least twice a day. I’d prefer you to stay here where Mrs. Thorn can keep an eye on you. The wound could become putrid.”
Blake’s words made sense, and as long as Lady Helen left he could keep on top of the hunt for Glover from here with Richard.
“Fine. I shall stay here until the skin knits round the stitches but you will ensure her ladyship gets safely home.”
Blake nodded and poured him a good measure of whiskey. “If you won’t take any opiates, this whiskey might take the sting out of those stitches.”
* * *
—
Helen arrived at the door in time to hear Clary ask Blake to take her home. Clary was right. She should have gone home, but how could she leave when Clary was hurt? She wanted to ensure Blake’s instructions to boil the bandages and cleanse the wound were followed to the letter.
A part of her knew Mrs. Thorn would do exactly that, but if his condition worsened, or God forbid he died, and she was not here…That idea filled her with fear. For some reason she thought if she stayed he would live.
He had to live. He’d got the knife wound while protecting her.
She was here to relieve Blake for the rest of the night shift. Clary should sleep until light, and she could pretend that he was not indifferent to her.
The memory of the kiss heated her blood. Maybe not so indifferent.
She waited to hear more but there was only silence. She took a couple of steps back and then with some noise entered the room. Blake looked at her with interest.
Helen spied the whiskey. “I see the patient is feeling better. Are there any signs of fever?” she asked.
Blake shook his head. “He’s declined more opiates but I’m simply telling him he’s not to get up.”
“Well, that is good news.” She looked at Clary and then said, “I think I shall organize a carriage to take me home tomorrow morning. It’s not that I wish to go, but if I am away from home any longer, gossip may start.”
“You don’t have to explain to me. I’m surprised you’ve stayed this long.” Clary shared a glance with Blake, and a flash of relief crossed his handsome features.
She could feel her face flush with heat. “I feel responsible for your condition. You pushed me out of the way and got hurt protecting me.”
“You were with him? I can’t believe he took you out on the streets,” Blake said incredulously.
“He didn’t. I went out with Boon to warn him Glover’s men were setting a trap for him.”
Blake’s mouth firmed. “No wonder he wants you to go home. This is not a game, Lady Helen. Glover and his ilk are dangerous. They are men who will do anything for money.”
“There is no need to scold me, Mr. Blake. I am fully aware of my foolishness, and my responsibility for Mr. Homeward’s injury.”
“Is that why you have stayed so long—the guilt?” Clary’s words drew her up short. What could she say, No, it’s because I care for you?
Like the coward she was, she quickly nodded.
“Well, there is no need to feel guilt, my lady. Clary may have come off worse if he’d been oblivious to Glover’s attack. The men were more interested in what was under your skirts than killing him.”
“Blake, that is quite enough,” Clary scolded.
Helen’s face heated further. “I’m just pleased Mr. Homeward’s injury was not worse.”
“As long as he doesn’t try to go after Glover until those stitches have started to bind, Clary should be fine. Mrs. Thorn will watch after him. She’ll call me at any sign of infection.”
“You can see me? I am here? There is no need to talk about me as if I’m a fool.”
They both ignored him. “I expect you’ll be looking forward to going home in the morning. It looks as if he’s going to be grumpy tonight. Maybe I should give him more opiates?” Blake laughed.
“Another whiskey would not go astray right now,” Clary said with a wince.
He sat up and she drank in his wide, strong shoulders. The muscles in his arms flexed as he held out a glass toward Blake to refill. Most of his torso was covered in bandages as the cut ran all the way down his right side, but she could see a sprinkling of black hair curl over the top of the linen. She really did try not to look but what woman would not take the opportunity to drink her fill of such beauty. “Perhaps you should have that whiskey with a bit of food in your stomach. Shall I send one of the boys to the kitchen?”
“Don’t bother. I’ll send for some food on my way out,” Blake said as he took his leave. At the door he gave a grin. “And you behave. I don’t want to find those stitches torn in the morning.” On a wink he shut the door behind him.
There was an awkward silence before Helen said, “Shall I read to you? You slept through my reading last night so I assume it will help you fall asleep.”
“I suppose you’d report me if I tried to stand up and find Richard.”
“Absolutely. Please, for me, do as Blake says. I couldn’t bear it if you tore those stitches. It was bad enough knowing you were in pain the first time. And don’t look at me like that. I’m going home tomorrow so then you can do as you please. I won’t be around to hear you cry out in pain if you do something stupid like go after Glover in this condition.”
His reply was simply to hold out his glass for her to refill it. Once she’d done so, she took a deep breath and asked, “Are we going to talk about the kiss?”
“I thought you were going to read to me.”
“It was my first ever kiss so I wanted to ask a few questions.”
Clary’s eyes darkened and flared with heat but his mouth firmed. “It should never have happened.”
“I thought it was rather clever. You kissed me so that Glover couldn’t see who we were. I did wo
nder why the kiss went on for so long though. I’m pretty sure Glover had moved off, but you still continued with the kiss.” At the time she’d never wanted the kiss to end. Her body had almost burst into flames, and it wasn’t fear that had made her heart pound.
“Please don’t read more into the kiss than a way to thwart Glover.”
She nodded. “So if I were to say I wanted to kiss you again, you’d object.”
“Yes,” but his eyes contradicted him.
“Liar.” She moved to sit on the bed, and he did not back away from her. She could feel the heat coming off his naked shoulders. “I want to see if what passed between us was what I thought it was. Your kiss wasn’t the kiss a man gives a woman just to throw off Glover.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And you’ve been kissed enough times to know that. I hardly think so.”
“Jealous?” she teased. “No. But I have many friends who have shared secrets.” She couldn’t help herself. She ran her finger over his collarbone and loved to see him shiver at her touch. “Are my hands cold?”
He reached up and stopped her finger’s journey over his chest. “You are playing with fire, little girl.”
“So no,” she said silkily as she let him hold her hand.
“Don’t do this. You could get hurt.”
She shook her head. “All I want is a kiss.”
“Now who is lying?”
She could not hold his heated gaze. “I don’t know what I want. All I know is that I’ll never have this opportunity to be alone with you again and I want to see if what I feel for you is real or simply because of the danger I was in.”
He let go of her finger and cupped her chin. “It doesn’t matter if what you felt was real or not. You and I can never be. Your sister trusts me. What would she think if I took advantage of your innocence?”
* * *
—
Clary’s senses warned him too late. He’d been distracted by her feminine fragrance. She was far too close. Tangled in the sheets he couldn’t move away from her—well that was his excuse.
A Dream of Redemption Page 7