Night Fire

by Catherine Coulter

  Merciful heavens, Dr. Armbruster thought some five minutes later, she is afraid of me. He was the bluntest of men, but this girl, clasping her arms over her breasts, her eyes haunting and never leaving him for an instant, made him want to use all his skill to reassure her as he would do for a deathly sick child.

  He backed up a step and sat himself in a chair. He smiled at her. He would go very, very slowly. “You are looking as fit as old Mr. McGee, who can now dance a jig with his wooden leg. How do you feel, my lady?”

  “All right, sir.”

  She had a lovely voice. He just wished there were no fear in it. He looked over at the earl, her husband. His face was expressionless, but Dr. Armbruster wondered what he was thinking. Did he recognize her fear? The doctor needed to listen to her lungs. He started to rise but stopped himself.

  “You had a very worried husband, my lady. He has also been an excellent nurse. Both of you are looking a bit peaked. I recommend a lot of rest.”

  “When can she travel?” Burke asked.

  “Tomorrow, by the healthy looks of her.” Dr. Armbruster rose slowly, aware that she was watching him warily. “May I listen to your lungs, my lady?”

  He saw her swallow convulsively. He didn’t move until she nodded and said, “All right.”

  He didn’t pull up her nightgown. He didn’t touch her with his hands. It was difficult, but he leaned as close to her chest as he could without touching her. Her lungs, thankfully, were clear. Unable to avoid it, he lightly touched his palm to her forehead. He felt her flinch even though she seemed not to move.

  He moved away from her. “Yes,” he said to Burke, “tomorrow, but in easy stages. Where are you going?”

  “Not far. Only to Sussex, near East Grinstead.”

  “Your estate is there, my lord?”

  “Yes. Ravensworth Abbey is just on the edge of Ashdown Forest.”

  Dr. Armbruster saw that she was relaxing and said, “A beautiful spot, Ashdown Forest. I was visiting in the Weald not too long ago. I’ve a sister in Hammerwood. Will you ride with her in the carriage, my lord?”

  “Certainly. If she tires, we can stop. I will take very good care of her, Dr. Armbruster.”

  Dr. Armbruster nodded, then turned to Arielle. “Do as your husband bids you, my lady. He’s endowed with nearly as much common sense as a Scotsman.”

  Arielle didn’t care about that. She wanted to ask him if she was indeed married to the Earl of Ravensworth. He saw her evident distress and asked her gently, “Is there something wrong? Something you would like to ask me?”

  She looked at Burke, and he realized with an awful start that she was afraid to ask the doctor anything. She was afraid of him, afraid he would become angry with her and beat her. He said easily, “Arielle, do you want to ask Dr. Armbruster about our wedding ceremony?”

  She looked both alarmed and surprised. “If it’s all right. It was over a week ago?”

  “Yes, and very nice. The vicar said the right words, as did you and your husband. If your husband had had them available I’ll wager he would have strewn rose petals on your bed. Now I must be off. If anything happens before you leave, my lord, just send for me. Good-bye, my lady.” Dr. Armbruster strode to the door, then stopped and turned. “You have an excellent husband, my lady, yes, excellent. I hope both of you are happy.”

  Arielle stared at him as if he’d suddenly announced that he was the new King of England. He pinned on a smile and left, a very thoughtful man.

  Everything went smoothly for the rest of the day, at least in Burke’s view. He taught her to play piquet that evening and she proved adept, both at strategy and at keeping count of her cards.

  “I won only five thousand pounds,” he said, sitting back. “Soon it is I who will lose my fortune to you.”

  She’d forgotten about everything but the game. She’d even laughed several times, and he’d swelled inside at the wonderful sound. He said abruptly, “Would you like another game?”

  She agreed quickly, but he saw that she was tiring. “No, better not. You’re looking a bit like a lovely rose that’s just beginning to droop on its stem. You need to rest if we are to leave tomorrow.”

  She watched in silence as he carried the deck of cards and the table away from the bed. Then he began calmly to strip off his clothes. When he turned, naked, she gasped out, “No. Please, I don’t want you to stay here, please.”

  He simply shook his head at her. “I am just a man, Arielle. Nothing new. I am also your husband. I imagine you’ll see me unclothed every day for the next fifty years. Get used to me, all right?”

  He didn’t really expect an answer. He walked to the bed and eased in between the covers. She quickly moved to the far side, so close to the edge that he imagined her crashing to the floor during the night.

  He could feel the nearly tangible waves of tension coming from her but didn’t know what to do about it.

  “You never did tell me what your brother did to get Victor.”

  For a moment he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Good heavens, you remember my telling you about the pony?”

  “Yes, certainly. So how did Montrose get Victor? Or did he?”

  “If you kiss me good night I’ll tell you.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath. He came up, balancing himself on his elbow. “Well?”

  “No,” she said, her voice as thin as watery gruel. “Please, just stay away.”

  “As you wish,” he said. He did. Until the middle of the night when a storm blew in and the temperature plummeted. He woke to find Arielle sprawled over him, both her arms about his neck. Her nightgown was bunched about her waist. His left hand was on her hip. It was wonderful and he was still half asleep. Her skin was smooth and soft. He began dreaming about loving her and his fingers made his dream real. Her legs were slightly parted and his fingers slipped between her thighs. And he touched her woman’s flesh. She was warm and soft and he thought he would explode.

  The dream continued. His fingers continued. He wanted to feel more of her and slipped his finger inside her. So tight she was, and hot. He moaned and his finger moved in her, deeper.

  He wanted more, he wanted to hear her moan and yell for him, he wanted—He groaned, and that groan brought him awake. Instantly and completely awake.

  “Arielle,” he whispered, feeling her, not quite understanding, and not wanting to. He felt her stir; then she came up on her elbows. He could barely make out her features in the darkness.

  She moaned and he felt her hips move.

  “Arielle,” he said and, in a swift movement, turned her onto her back and came down over her.

  Eleven

  It was dark and the darkness cloaked his mind, giving his desire free rein, holding him away, but only for a moment. Her nightgown was still bunched about her waist. His hands took in the feel of her, the smooth softness of her legs and belly. It was too much when he heard her small cry, a pleading cry to his ears, a wanting cry. He pushed himself against her, wanting desperately to come into her body. He reared up, his breathing hard, intent upon his task, when she suddenly became rigid.

  “Arielle,” he said, his voice hoarse and raw, “I want to come inside you. I want you to belong to me, all of you.” His voice was none too steady and he realized the depth of his lust for her. He had to stop. He mustn’t frighten her. Slowly, he eased off her and onto his back.

  “Go back to sleep,” he said. “But, Arielle, dream about me, all right? Perhaps that’s what you were dreaming when I touched you. You did feel desire for me. I want to fill your life with desire and pleasure.” Odd how it was easier to speak of things like this in the middle of the night, in the dark, with no face to see to give away thoughts and doubts. “I want you to be happy. I will make you happy if you will give me a chance.”

  The strange feelings centered low in her belly had faded, now hollow echoes from something vague and disturbing, something she didn’t understand, didn’t want to understand. She heard his deep voice and wond
ered at his words. He sounded so terribly sincere. But she wasn’t a fool. She wouldn’t ever be a fool again. He could have taken her but he hadn’t. Why? He’d come over her just as he had in the dream.

  Aloud she said, “I don’t understand you.”

  “Trust me, and understanding will come.”

  More men’s glib words. “Oh, no, I shall not do that, my lord.”

  Burke let that go and said, “At least you are lying next to me in bed and we are married and we are speaking to each other in the middle of the night. Strides, I call it, Arielle. Very impressive strides.”

  He had something there.

  “Your nightgown is up about your waist.”

  He felt the bed give as she straightened the gown.

  “Are you cold?”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll hold you.”

  “No,” she said. And that, he thought, was that.

  Her face was white with fatigue. She leaned against him, her head lolling against his shoulder. He kissed her temple. He held her firmly, saying softly, “Almost home, my dear. You’ll be all right soon now.”

  In the past whenever Burke had returned to Ravensworth Abbey, he had felt a sense of intense belonging, of homecoming. This time, all his attention was focused on Arielle. The carriage, driven by Tom Acre of Shepherd Smeath, turned into the wide drive, and Burke greeted Toby, the gateman, with a nod. The drive was long and winding, and he knew every oak tree, every maple tree, every lime tree. Their foliage was thick and lush, a riot of greens in midsummer. He kissed his wife gently on her forehead, believing that she had fallen asleep.

  She hadn’t. She pulled away from him, took her bonnet from the opposite seat, and set it on her head. “Just a bit crooked,” he said, smiling at her, and adjusted it. She then tied the bow beneath her left ear.

  “Very smart, although the bonnet does look the worse from wear.” It was the one she’d worn the day he’d abducted her. One side was nearly smashed in. “The servants will be pleased to see you here as their mistress, Arielle. My man, Joshua, is even enamored of you, and in the normal scheme of things, he isn’t at all fond of the fairer sex. I don’t want you to be worried about anything. You’ll be tucked into your bed very soon. Your maid, Dorcas, is here, and if you wish, you can keep her with you.”

  Arielle looked out the window, then said quietly, “I didn’t want to come here, my lord. I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  She shrugged. “I am not what I was before. I wish you had believed me. You will come to dislike me, and then what will you do?”

  Tom Acre pulled the carriage to a halt at that moment in front of the Abbey, sparing Burke from having to answer. His butler, Montague, was standing in the open doorways, as stately as any self-respecting monarch. Burke knew that all his instructions would have been followed to the letter, in all likelihood with more efficiency than in the army.

  “Do you feel well enough to walk?”

  “Certainly,” she said, not knowing if this was true or not. She felt weak from the inside out, which didn’t make much sense, but it was the case.

  A footman, Charlie, decked out in Drummond livery of royal blue and crimson, opened the carriage door. Burke jumped down and turned to help Arielle. Her face was pale, and he flinched at the fear he saw in her eyes. He clasped his hands about her waist and lifted her out.

  “You are the Countess of Ravensworth,” he said quietly. “Don’t ever forget that. All right?”

  “It’s not that,” she said, and that was true.

  Then she saw Dorcas rushing out of the house toward her, crying out, “My baby. You’re here, at last.” Dorcas came to a breathless halt, remembering herself, and gave Arielle a deep, age-creaking curtsy. “My lady,” she said. She cast a quick look at the earl and he nodded.

  “She has been a bit under the weather, Dorcas,” Burke said. “I will help her upstairs. Montague, have one of the footmen fetch Dr. Brody.”

  “Please, no, Burke,” Arielle said, touching her fingertips to his sleeve. “Please.”

  “But I want to be certain you’re all right.”

  “I am. Just tired, that’s all. Please.”

  He would never, he thought, be immune to her. He studied her face, and without another word, he lifted her into his arms. “It will be as you wish. My only request,” he added quietly, “is that you don’t fight me.”

  “No,” she said, “I won’t.”

  Arielle had the impression of a great many servants crowded in the entrance hall of the Abbey. Burke spoke to Mrs. Pepperall, his housekeeper, and to Montague. They greeted Arielle warmly. Everything was as Burke wished. He nodded to the servants as he carried his bride upstairs. The huge master bedchamber was at the end of the eastern corridor, and next to it was the countess’s bedchamber, a room that his mother had decorated in shades of peach and the lightest of lavender. He’d debated whether or not to keep Arielle with him, and still he wasn’t certain. He supposed it was Dorcas and his natural perversity that formed his decision.

  “In here, my lord,” Dorcas said and stepped aside for him to bring Arielle into the countess’s bedchamber.

  “I think not,” he said and walked down to the next large oak door. He opened it and went inside. “You’ve never been upstairs before, have you?”

  Arielle shook her head against his shoulder. He kicked the door shut with his foot, wondering if Dorcas had followed him and was standing staring at the closed door at this moment.

  “Just another moment, and you’ll be in bed.”

  Very matter-of-factly, Burke set her on her feet beside the enormous bed in which he’d been born, and took off her clothes. She leaned against him and he was pleased. He stripped her down to her chemise and petticoat, then sat her on the edge of the bed. He went to his knees and pulled down her stockings and slippers. “There, that wasn’t so very awful, was it?” he said with a touch of humor as he rose. He helped her between the cool sheets and smoothed the blankets over her.

  “No,” she said, a bit of surprise in her voice. She was asleep within five minutes.

  There was a sharp rap on the door. Dorcas was standing there looking a bit militant. “She’s sleeping,” he said. “Let us leave her be.”

  “But—”

  “If you wish to sit beside her, you may. Just don’t awaken her, Dorcas.”

  The old woman gave him a look that would have soured chocolate. “I know her. She wouldn’t have married you.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “You did something to her.”

  “Actually, I didn’t. Now, I have other things to do besides argue with you.”

  He walked quickly away, leaving Dorcas to stare at his back, her own bristling.

  Burke wanted to speak to Geordie. He found him with Joshua in the stables. Geordie gave him a speculative look, then touched his fingers to the lock of hair that fell over his forehead. “Milord,” he said.

  Without preamble Burke said, “I didn’t harm her in any way, Geordie. You care for her, and I wanted you to hear that from me. She married me. She became ill but is recovering now. Everything is all right. I will do everything in my power to make her happy with me.”

  Geordie nodded and said to Joshua, “Tell his lordship.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “That French dandy, Etienne DuPons, came sniffing around here.”

  “The illegitimate son of Cochrane?”

  “Aye, that’s the one, the bleedin’ bugger,” said Geordie. “He didn’t find out a thing, ye know, but I wondered and wondered, so I followed him when he left.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “To Leslie Farm. To Evan Goddis, her ladyship’s half brother. I, ah, slipped around the house and put my ear to the library window. Ye’ll not believe it, but DuPons had planned to kidnap her ladyship and force her to marry him. He was furious and talking out of turn, and Goddis told him to clamp up his trap. He told Goddis he knew that you’d stuck in yer oar, what with me and Dorc
as being here. And Goddis told him that he’d done it and good riddance to him because he was a fool. He’d had his chance and Goddis wouldn’t help him again.”

  Burke pictured in his mind his position on the road, waiting for Arielle’s carriage. Evidently Etienne DuPons had been waiting as well; it was just that Burke had been the first. It was ironic and funny and frightening. “Good God,” he said and ran his fingers through his hair. “This situation has more twists and turns than that damned Richmond maze.”

  Joshua, with something of a lopsided grin on his face, said, “I’ve instructed the lads to keep a sharp eye, my lord. Now that you and her ladyship are here, we don’t want to take any chances.”

  “DuPons would come here even if he knows she’s married to me? I find that difficult to swallow.”

  Geordie looked from Joshua to the earl. He wasn’t certain what to do. Damnation, he had to protect the lassie. “He wanted her powerful bad,” he said at last. “Powerful.”

  Burke looked at him, waiting.

  “Aye, my lord. He, well, he lived at Rendel Hall some weeks before his father died, ye know. I’m not sure just what the old man made her do, but—well, her ladyship kicked him out right and proper after old Cochrane snuffed it, and he started spewing off his mouth and saying things that were filthy and—”

  “I understand,” Burke said, turning pale with rage. He took a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me, Geordie. I will protect her, you may be certain of that.”

  “Er, well, there is something else, milord. Her half brother, Goddis, he sold her to Cochrane. Fifteen thousand pounds. When she ran away and went to him to protect her, he sold her again. Five thousand pounds that time. He isn’t a nice man, my lord. What I think is he was behind DuPons to marry her; then he’d take even more money.”

  “But she didn’t have anything. Her steward and solicitor had stolen everything.”

  “Goddis and DuPons hadn’t found out about that, I imagine.”

  “Well, they must know by now. Surely they wouldn’t still act—it wouldn’t gain them anything. I won’t ask how you know these things, Geordie. Is there anything else?”