by Pam Roller
Was he alive?
Shaking off her stiffness she ran to him, held a hand to his cooled cheek, and noted the peaceful rise and fall of his chest. Checking the poultice, she found that the swelling of his wound and the strange red streaks had subsided.
Relief rushed through her. “You will be all right,” she breathed. “My husband. You will be all right.”
Now she did climb over and cuddle beside him, and once again allowed sleep to overcome her.
Chapter Thirty
Alex awoke to a painful throb in his shoulder. A linen cloth bag filled with a fragrant, green spongy concoction covered his wound. Had the doctor come, then?
Katherine slumbered beside him on her side, her breaths slow and deep. Purple shadows under her eyes revealed her strain, and his heart twisted over what he had put her through these past weeks.
He wasn’t good for her. And she didn’t want him. In the watery depths of his pain during their ride away from the brothel, he had heard her say that she never wished to see him again.
No, their marriage had been a mistake.
Quietly Alex got out of bed and stood on weak and shaky legs. He paused to drink the warm watered ale on the bedside table before retrieving his dried blood-soiled shirt and waistcoat. Clenching his jaw at the fire in his wound, he dressed, then stood by the bed and gazed upon his beautiful wife. He leaned down and kissed her brow.
A bruise circled her neck. He studied it for a moment while anger filled him, wondering what monster had done that and why he hadn’t seen it during their departure from the brothel.
She didn’t stir as he closed the door.
****
He was gone. No clothes lay over the chair where she had laid them.
Katherine sat up on the bed and felt the hungry rumbling of her stomach. Mayhap he had felt strong enough to go to the kitchen to buy a meal for them. They would eat, wash, and then head home.
Thank God her husband had survived. Whatever the reason he had mistakenly sent her to the brothel, it had to be sound. She had to believe in him.
She rose to dress, then saw a folded piece of paper on the table next to the packets of herbs. Instructions from the doctor that she had missed? Unfolding it, she gazed upon familiar neat, bold handwriting.
She wasn’t aware that she had sunk into a nearby chair until she reached the end of the letter and started reading it again.
Katherine,
A guard is outside your door until Millie arrives later today. I have departed for home and will arrange for you to move into a home of your choice in the village. You will never lack for anything.
Forgive me.
Alex
“But I didn’t want you to leave without me,” Katherine whispered. “I wanted to come home with you.”
Hot, heavy tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks and dripped onto the paper, smearing the ink into unreadable lines.
Chapter Thirty-one
Lord Wiltshire’s smile was wide and pleasant when Alex trudged past his parlor and saw him perched on a chair like a blasted parrot.
The man couldn’t do to look comelier than a woman—he also had to have the largest, most flamboyantly pink feather in his hat that Alex had ever seen.
Thomas Bliss stood and bowed, detaching the hat from his brown peruke with a flourish. When he bowed, the feather swept the Aubusson rug.
“Lord Drayton!” he began, and then his lips curled in distaste. “Have you been assisting in the birth as well?”
“What birth?” Alex asked dully, wanting nothing more than to retire to his bedchamber for a few days until the pain left his shoulder—and his heart.
Elizabeth stood, pale and red-eyed. “Clara is dead.”
“Clara.” Alex tried to think. “Clara? The sheepherder Thaddeus’ wife?”
“Yes.” Elizabeth approached him, her limp worse in her troubled state. “She gave birth late last night. The midwife grew impatient and pulled the babe from Clara’s womb. Then she—she reached inside to get....” Elizabeth bent her head and sobbed.
Wiltshire, uncomfortable at either Elizabeth’s distress or the subject at hand, sat.
Alex drew Elizabeth into his arms. “What happened?”
“The midwife ripped Clara’s womb. “I—I have never seen so much blood.”
Alex was silent for a moment. Then, “The babe?”
“Strong and healthy. But poor Stephen is beside himself. He—he ran away and no one can find him.”
The ride home on Neos had been long, and Alex needed to lie down. But he said, “I will find Stephen.”
For the first time Elizabeth seemed to notice the dried blood on his clothing. “You are hurt.”
“The highwayman shot me.”
“And?” Wiltshire stood once more.
“He is dead. I killed him.”
“Well, good riddance, I say,” the baron said with a tug on his gray bristled chin. “But you look a little peaked, Drayton. Best that you go to your bedchamber and rest for now. Elizabeth, would you like me to dispatch the servants to search for the boy?”
Alex tensed. “That will not be necessary, Wiltshire. I will take care of it. You may want to leave now so my cousin can rest.”
“Yes. I think I need to lie down,” Elizabeth murmured, and turned to Wiltshire. “Forgive me, my lord.”
“Of course,” Wiltshire replied. His smile toward Alex curdled. “I do hope we can renew our acquaintance. I realize we did not part on good circumstances.”
Alex grunted. “Farewell.”
Later, his body trembling with exhaustion and pain, Alex reached the top step leading to the battlements of the keep.
By now Millie should be well on her way to Lobb’s Inn to serve Katherine. Sam had dispatched a message to a lawyer to end the marriage and handle the purchase of a comfortable home in the town. After the lawyer ensured that Katherine was settled in and safe, Alex would set himself to forgetting about her.
Being alone was best, after all. It kept his heart intact.
Now he turned left on the battlement walkway and moved toward the crumpled form of a boy curled against one wall.
“Stephen.”
The boy stirred and turned his head, reddened eyes blinking in the sunlight. He sniffed once, then lowered his head onto his arm.
Alex knelt and placed his hand on Stephen’s thin, shaking shoulder. “I am sorry.”
“Mama’s dead,” Stephen sobbed. “Why? Why?”
“I cannot answer that,” Alex said. How could he explain to a child the impatient gropings of a midwife? “But you have a new brother who needs you.”
“Don’t want him,” Stephen said, his breaths coming in wet huffs. “Send him back. He hurt my mama.”
“He didn’t hurt her, Stephen. Your mother died in no pain.” That was surely a lie, but something to soothe him.
Stephen sat up with a great, sobbing sigh, and rested his head against Alex’s leg. For a time they remained this way while Alex gave the boy gentle pats on his shoulder.
Finally, Stephen raised his head. “I need to go home now. My brother is hungry. And there are sheep to tend to.”
“The babe is being cared for, as are the sheep. You will stay with me until we can figure out what to do. Are you ready? Lady Elizabeth is quite worried for you.”
“I am ready.” Stephen stood and faced Alex with a resolute set of his skinny shoulders, his dark eyes bright and determined through their tears.
Here was a glimpse of the man Stephen would become, Alex thought as he led him down the stairs of the battlement. A boy like that would make any father proud.
But Stephen had no father. Alex glanced over his shoulder and caught the trembling of Stephen’s lips, and without further consideration decided that he would serve that role.
How easily his heart had opened for someone who needed him. Katherine had done that. He would never be the same without her.
****
Stubborn man. Did he not know she wanted to go home? From the s
ight of Millie standing at her door, long-faced and wet-eyed, Katherine guessed he didn’t.
“Oh, m’lady.” Millie stepped into the room and dropped her bags. “Ye’ve had a terrible experience. I wish I could’ve stayed with ye at that awful brothel. How do ye fare?”
“I am fine. Millie, catch the driver before he leaves. He can take us home.”
“But he’s goin’ back t’Drayton Castle, not yer new home. Lord Drayton told me to tell ye that the lawyer will be by this evenin’ with men to take your trunks. The house is just down the street.”
Katherine clamped her hands to her hips. “If that man thinks—oh, never mind. Go catch the coachman, Millie. ’Tis Drayton Castle we are returning to. Home.”
She caught the smile on the maid’s face before Millie darted from the room.
In the carriage, Katherine saw the ragged girl again with her hands out to passersby. Crying. Begging.
And not two doors down in front of her brothel, scrutinizing the waif, stood Patsy Eberly.
Katherine leaped up and pounded her fist on the ceiling of the carriage. “Driver! Halt!”
****
“My lord? She has come home.”
Alex thought the voice to be part of his dream, and didn’t respond.
“Alex? Wake up, lad. Lady Drayton has come back.”
This was no dream. Alex’s eyes flew open. “She is here?”
Sam’s narrowed his eyes. “Yes, just now. She is on her way up to see you. And she does not look happy.”
Alex was only able to throw a sheet across his naked hips when Katherine swept into his bedchamber and stopped. Silent words were passed, questions without answers, confusion and hurt and yearning.
“Are you well?” she asked after a moment, glancing at the bandage on his shoulder. Her gaze then traveled down his torso.
“Better,” he replied with long-practiced impassivity. “Did your new home not suit?”
“I do not want a new home,” she said.
“Ah. Then where will you live?”
Katherine’s eyes slid to the new water pitcher on the wash table near the door. Alex didn’t have to hear her words to know what she was thinking.
“Have you come home, then?”
“Is that...all right?”
Alex spoke through the sudden roughness in his throat. “If you will have me.”
“I will have none but you.” She rushed into his waiting arms. Sam slipped from the bedchamber.
Alex lay her down and held her against him, loving that she was his wife, loving her. Her soft lips responded to his with passion, and only his wound kept him from his impatient need to make love to her.
He touched the bruises on her neck. “Who did this to you? I will kill him.”
“’Twas your fever. You didn’t know me and thought I meant you harm.”
“I did this?” He held her tighter and ignored the resulting ache in his shoulder. “Katherine. I am sorry. I cannot remember much after we got to the inn. Only the pain....”
She drew back and put a finger to his lips. “I know. I know.”
He kissed her, his tongue hard and vigorous in her mouth, his hand unlacing the string of her bodice to cup her breast. “I want you.”
“But you are wounded.”
“Not where it counts.”
With a sensuous smile, Katherine sat up and lifted the sheet. “I’d say not.”
Minutes later, naked, she straddled herself over him. She began doing things with her mouth to his neck and chest that charged him with desire.
“Oh, love,” Alex growled. With his good arm he guided her body over his mouth, inch by smooth, lavender-scented inch, until he had stroked and kissed and tasted all of her. Her face was slack with desire when he finally positioned her over his hips.
She hesitated. “What do I do?” Then, she seemed to understand, and slowly took him inside her.
“Yes,” he breathed.
“This feels...so good.” Katherine closed her eyes and began to move, finding her own rhythm. She shifted her hips to take him in deeper.
Alex couldn’t answer her. He gripped her hips, helpless to do anything but let her do what she wanted. She rode him, eyes half closed, leaning forward to cover his mouth with wet, languid kisses. She pulled back and increased her speed, and he gritted his teeth and fought to keep his control.
He delighted in her fervent moans, watched her face tighten with intensity, her breaths come faster and faster, until she reared back and cried out his name.
Alex released himself with a shout.
With soft gasps she slumped beside him. “So good,” she murmured.
“Pleasuring you is what’s good,” he said, kissing her soft earlobe.
He covered both of them with the quarterpane and then hugged her to him for a time. He didn’t want to leave his cloud of serenity after their lovemaking, but finally said, “We need to talk.”
She stiffened in his arms, then sighed. “Yes. About your mistake.”
“I didn’t send you to the brothel, Katherine.”
“Who did?”
“Agnes.”
Katherine lifted her head, sleepy sensuality replaced by wide-eyed astonishment. “Agnes!”
“She told my coachman to take you there instead of the inn. My orders, she said.”
Katherine bolted to a sitting position, grabbed one of the pillows, and squeezed it between her hands. “Oh, that vixen. Wait until I see her.” Then, she peered at Alex. “Why did you tell her to talk to the coachman instead of doing it yourself?”
Alex brushed his fingers through her tousled hair. “She offered to help.”
“I am sure she did.” Katherine’s brown eyes held the fire that he now knew well, but to hear her livid voice added a new depth to her. “She wished to help me right out of your life. She is in love with you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“I have never encouraged her. I blame myself for what happened. You could have been hurt.”
Katherine touched a light hand to his bandage. “And you could have been killed.”
“That woman will never enter this house again.” Alex clenched his fist, then released it. “Mary seemed to like her, so I let her come as often as she wished. She saw Mary jump from her window.”
“Agnes was with her?” Katherine stared at him.
“Yes. I had gone out to the corridor so that Mary might calm down. ’Twas not a good move.”
Katherine’s lips were warm and soft on his cheek. “The windows remind you of your guilt, so you keep them covered.”
“Foolish of me, I know.”
“No. We all have our demons. Put me in a closet and shut the door, and I will show you mine.”
Alex palmed her cheek and kissed her. “I love you.”
Her face brightened with a moist-eyed smile. “Oh, Alex. How I have longed to hear you say that.”
“Then I will say it again. I love you. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”
Her head lowered. “But can you forget? Will you always look upon me and see what my father did?”
He placed a finger under her chin and lifted it. “I will always look upon you, yes. And listen to your charming voice.”
“My father was a spy. A murderer.”
He lost himself in her eyes. “Yes. But he made you. And for that, I forgive him.”
Katherine placed tender kisses on his cheeks, his brows, his lips. “I love you, dear Alex. My husband.”
And suddenly, the last iron piece masking Alex’s heart melted away. All he could do for a moment was struggle to maintain his emotions and not succumb to womanly tears. Needing something to drive away the lump in his throat, he took one of her rosy nipples and played it between his fingers. “We will speak of the past no more, especially in our bedchamber,” he said.
Katherine, gasping her words, studied the room. “Our bedchamber. Yes. I like the dark green colors, and the big chairs on the thick rug. ’Tis cozy in here, like a hideaway.” She trai
led her hand down his chest and stomach, paused teasingly, and then went lower.
A throaty groan escaped Alex’s lips.
“And this bed is quite large,” she continued as if she were not stroking him into oblivion. “Will we be spending much time on it, do you think?”
“We’ll bolt ourselves to it,” Alex replied with a growl, and captured her lips with his.
Chapter Thirty-two
“I am considering what to do with Stephen and baby Jason,” Alex said the next morning during breakfast. “Clara has a sister, a poor farmer’s wife, in Sheffield, but Stephen tells me she already has seven children.”
Katherine toyed with her spoon. “Perhaps Stephen and Jason could live here.”
Elizabeth’s expression, bleak over Clara’s death, brightened.
Alex set down his cup. “I’d like that.”
“As would I. And they would have a better chance at life,” Katherine said, trying not to spout everything that was on her mind. Her newfound voice had caused her to want to talk incessantly, just to glean the satisfaction of immediate response. Instead, she turned to Elizabeth. “What do you think?”
“I believe they would be happy here,” Elizabeth said with a secretive glance toward Katherine. “I have always liked Stephen.”
Both women smiled at Alex.
“All right,” he said. “‘Twill be nice to hear the voices of children in these halls.”
“Alex, there is one more thing,” Katherine said. “When we were in town, I saw an orphan girl on the street. She was starving.”
Alex’s expression remained impassive as he wiped his mouth with a cloth. “It happens.” Yet his brow creased slightly.
“Well,” she said with a glance at a smiling Sam and Millie at the sideboard, “I wonder how we can help her.”
“How?” Alex fixed his gaze on her. “Don’t you mean ‘when’?”
Katherine feigned a baffled shrug. “I do not know what I mean. Do you have any ideas?”
Alex went still, his eyes piercing blue in their awareness. “She is an orphan, you say?”
Katherine held his gaze, trying to keep her face from revealing her secret. “We’d have to check, of course.”