A Dangerous Man

by Janmarie Anello

  "Richard, I love you," she cried, the words torn from her throat as a wild, nearly unbearable climax swept her away. She collapsed against his chest.

  Mere moments passed before she heard the echo of her words.

  Afraid to look at him, she nuzzled his neck.

  The words had risen unbidden to her lips. Yet she would not deny them. She would not deny her love for him.

  He rolled her onto her back. His midnight eyes burned with an intensity she could not identify. Time stretched into eternity as he stared into her eyes. Then he lowered his lips to hers, and slowly, reverently, drew her against his body, his heart pounding wildly beneath her palm.

  A loud thud startled Leah awake.

  She clutched the coverlet to her chin. Her eyes wide, she stared into the darkness, listening for the noise that had awakened her. Her imagination tortured her with images of footpads and murderers skulking through the house, searching for their next victims. She heard nothing but silence and her husband's even breathing. It must have been a dream.

  She sat up, glanced at Richard. He lay sprawled on his back, the covers tangled low on his hips. Moonlight played across his chest, sun-bronzed and naked to her gaze. She ran her fingers through the dark hair covering his flesh. I love you.

  Her words came back to haunt her. She'd not meant to say them, but her emotions were strained, her senses shattered. His eyes had gleamed stark and dangerous in the candlelight, his jaw, rigid and tense, but he had not denied her declaration. No, he had kissed her and stroked her and made love to her so tenderly, she almost believed that he loved her as much as she loved him.

  Even if he were incapable of speaking the words.

  It might be an illusion, but it was sweet, just the same.

  As she sank back onto her pillow, a sudden onslaught of nausea brought her hands to her lips. She swallowed as her throat convulsed and the bed seemed to swirl about her head.

  She needed a drink, something stronger than water to settle her stomach, a few sips of brandy, or perhaps a claret.

  Or a loaf of bread, she decided as her stomach gave one more violent twist. She thought of waking Richard, but she did not wish to disturb him when he seemed so peacefully asleep, with no night horrors to decimate his dreams.

  She poked her head out her door. The wall sconces still burned in the passage, their feeble light marking the direction toward the stairs. As she rounded the curve to the hall, her foot struck a shadowy object draped across the landing.

  A male voice groaned. Long fingers grabbed her ankle, pulled her to the floor. She landed on her hands and knees, her palms scraping across the hard wood surface. Her skin grew cold, her heartbeat racing, she sucked air into her lungs, but before she could scream, a familiar voice called out, "Leah?"

  "Geoffrey?" She crawled over to him, cradled his head on her lap, hands searching for any hint of injury. "Are you hurt?"

  His brown hair was damp with sweat and reeked of smoke. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but belched long and loud instead. He giggled. "Ooops. Beg pardon"

  Only once before, at a village fair, had she seen a man so inebriated he could not walk, but she recognized the signs, the crooked smile, the red-glazed eyes, the stench of brandy rising from his clothes like haze from paving stones on a summer day.

  "Love you, you know," he said in what she imagined he thought was a whisper, the bellow pounding through her already aching head. "Best thing that ever happened to this family."

  "Thank you, my lord. I love you, too." She slipped her hands beneath his arms, but he was too heavy for her to move. "Can you stand on your own? Or should I fetch a footman?"

  "I can do it." He rolled to his stomach, pushed onto his knees. "Not a crook shanks, you know."

  "I know," Leah said, rising from her own ignoble position on the floor. "There is nothing wrong with your legs a little coffee and some rest won't cure. Come. Let us get you to bed"

  Draping one of his arms around her shoulders, she leaned into his side. He was so heavy and his legs were so wobbly, Leah greatly feared they might tumble backward down the stairs, but he lunged forward instead. Together, they stumbled down the hall, bounced off the walls, stepped on each other's toes.

  By the time they reached his rooms, they were laughing.

  "Now, lean against the wall whilst I open ... the ... door."

  "Shouldn't," he murmured, slouching toward the floor. "Unseemly, don't you know."

  "Nonsense" Grabbing his arm before he collapsed, she guided him across the room, dark save for the moonlight shining in through the windows and the shadowed lamplight flickering beyond the open door. "There is no harm in a sister helping her brother to bed when he is incapable of getting there on his own"

  She yanked back the quilted coverlet, eased him onto the mattress. His eyes drifted shut as she tugged off his boots, then pulled the coverlet up to his neck. She adjusted the pillows beneath his head, brushed his sweaty hair from his brow. "Sweet dreams, my lord. I shall see you tomorrow."

  He grabbed her wrist. Tears dripped down his cheeks and onto his neck. "Don't go ... please ... don't leave me alone."

  "Good heavens, what is wrong?" She needed to fetch Richard, but she couldn't leave Geoffrey. Not like this. She laced her fingers through his. "What has happened? Please, tell me "

  He gazed up at her through bleary eyes. "I'm in a muddle, Duchess. I can't explain. Richard should thank me, but noon ... he rants and rails . . ."

  His slurred words caught Leah unprepared. Her heart raced. Her neck grew slick with sweat, from worry or from the heat of the room, she could not say. A sick premonition twisted her already fragile stomach. She should leave. He had no notion of what he was saying, but she couldn't. "What do you mean? Why should Richard thank you?"

  "Because he loves you," Geoffrey said, nodding. "Alison, too. Not Rachel. She's evil. Killed Eric, don't you know ..

  With a sigh, Leah dismissed his wild words. She didn't know if she were relieved or more afraid of what truth might lurk beneath his drunken ramblings. "Please, go to sleep, my lord."

  "I'm in the suds, Leah. Ruined."

  "You are merely illuminated," she said gently, stroking his damp brow. "The world will seem much brighter in the morning"

  He shook his head, eyes clenched shut. "No. Richard will kill me. I'm ten in the hundred."

  "Nonsense. Richard will help you-"

  "It's too late." He rocked his head back and forth. "There is no hope. I will never come about"

  Richard was vaguely aware that he was dreaming. He willed himself to awaken, but it was no use. He was too deep in his nightmare. A horde of feasting scavengers crowded around a table smothered with food, whisky dripping onto the floor, an eerie echo of his life's blood leaking from his heart.

  Endless toasts to welcome home the weary soldier. Eric at the head of the table, Rachel playing dutiful wife by his side.

  Richard drained his glass as Eric lavished passionate kisses on his wife. Mingling tongues. Roaming hands. Why not take her here on the table for all of us to enjoy, he screamed as he grabbed a bottle, then floated away on the puffy white cloud of euphoria that only accompanied blessed numbness.

  White cotton transformed into angry black thunder. Richard tossed about, deafened by the rumble of endless explosions, blinded by the shafts of piercing white light, until the sky shattered and he landed with a sickening thud in the middle of his feather bed. Arms and legs mangled, surely broken, but no pain. Perhaps he was dead after all.

  Eternal sleep. He closed his eyes and surrendered his spirit. Warm hands stroked. A tongue, barbed like a serpent's, licked him up and down, brought his withered flesh back to life.

  He was in bed with a she-devil, but his drink-clouded mind didn't care. He wanted release. He plunged between her parted thighs. The demon beneath him moaned his name.

  Please ... no ... please ... no ... please ... no ...

  The door creaked. Boot heels clanked.

  A brother's voice, now long dead,
howled his name.

  A hand reached up, malevolent eyes gleaming red in the darkness. "Rachel."

  Drenched in sweat, heart pounding, Richard bolted upright on the bed. Cool night air hitting his damp skin shuddered down his back. Through the sluggishness of his lingering dream, he heard Leah's voice. He swung his gaze around until he found her, standing beside the bed, a candlestick clutched in one hand. The other hand, she held wrapped around the base of her throat.

  14 tried to wake you," she said. Her eyes were wide, her hair spilling wildly about her face, shadowed in the dim light. "But I couldn't. You were thrashing about and calling for-"

  "It was a nightmare," he said bleakly. He ran his hands through his hair and over his face. "Nothing for you to worry about. Come back to bed"

  She nodded, but looked unconvinced. Then she grabbed his hands and tugged. "Geoffrey's home and he is so foxed. You should have heard the wild things he was saying. .

  Her words struck home like a volley of well-aimed arrows, hitting Richard's deepest fears. His heartbeat skidded to a painful halt, but he willed himself to remain calm as he rose and shrugged into his shirt and breeches. "What exactly did he say?"

  She waved her hand through the air. "Nothing specific. In coherent words, mostly, then he started weeping and spoke of things I did not understand. About how angry you would be when you learned the truth. I sat with him until he fell asleep, but I am truly worried. He said something about being ten in the hundred. What does that mean?"

  Usurers charging ten percent interest. Outrageous!

  If Geoffrey were that desperate-

  Richard shoved Leah aside and bolted from the room. She called after him, but he couldn't answer for the panic swelling in his throat. His legs were too heavy, his steps too slow as he raced down the passage. Please, don't let me be too late.

  He flung open his brother's door just in time to see Geoffrey raise a pistol to his temple.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  A moment of terrible silence passed, the seconds punctuated by the thunderous beat of Richard's heart. He recognized the gun as one of a matched set of dueling pistols. It belonged in a case locked in the gun room, not in Geoffrey's hand, poised to blow his brains against the wall.

  Richard's thoughts grew sluggish, his skin cold, yet dripping with sweat as panic tried to overwhelm him, as guilt and recrimination choked him, as he stared at Geoffrey, so far gone on drink he could scarce stand upright without swaying as if tossed about by hurricane winds. A loaded pistol in his hand.

  Muscles clenching, legs trembling, Richard shuffled forward. There would be time for recriminations later.

  Now, he needed his wits clear and his senses sharp.

  "Put the gun down," he said in a tightly controlled voice that betrayed not a hint of the icy fear shredding his guts.

  The image of his brother's beautiful face, tears streaming down his cheeks, his eyes hollowed by despair, burned itself into Richard's brain. He took another slow, measured step.

  "Do not move!" Geoffrey said, his voice shrill, desperate.

  Richard held up his hands. "Let us talk, Geoffrey."

  "It is too late. Do you not understand?"

  Richard inched one foot forward. "I understand you are hurt. And I want to help you. But you must put down the gun."

  "I've done it up right this time, Richard. But I won't let you pay the price. Not like before" A spasm twisted Geoffrey's lips, compressed his swollen lids until his features resembled a gruesome death mask. "I did not mean to tell, you know. He tricked it from me °"

  "I know," Richard said, sliding another step closer, his skin tingling in the suddenly frigid air. "It does not matter. It never mattered. All I care about is you"

  Geoffrey waved his hand, the pistol teetering wildly beside his head. "I cause you nothing but grief. How you must hate me"

  "No! I love you. I need you. You are my brother."

  "Go away. I do not want you to see this."

  "Will you shoot yourself in front of me?" Leah said from the doorway, her voice soothingly low and soft as a lullaby. She took two steps into the room. "I thought you were my friend, my brother. You told me tonight that you love me. But I have to wonder if you spoke the truth. Do you love me so little you would make me watch while you kill yourself?"

  Geoffrey dragged his tortured gaze to Leah. "You do not understand. I won't hurt Richard anymore!"

  "You must be jesting. You are hurting him now. Or do you truly believe he will be happier when you are dead? Will you make him bury yet another brother? And what of Alison? Do you truly think she will be happier without her uncle? Do you think. .

  Richard didn't attend to her words. He prayed Leah would keep Geoffrey's attention fixed on her while he shuffled forward on legs that felt as if they were fashioned from a blacksmith's anvil. His breath burned like acid in his throat. He was almost close enough. Ten more paces and all would be well.

  Geoffrey's gaze swung back to him. "I never meant to hurt you, Richard." His finger tightened on the trigger.

  "No," Richard screamed as he hurtled through the air, as he heard the gun explode, as the din deafened his hearing and the smell of blood made him gag. He landed on his hands and knees.

  He crawled across the floor. Somewhere in the distance, he heard an anguished scream. An ever-widening puddle of blood seeped through Geoffrey's shirt, but Richard could not see the wound, his vision blurred by smoke and tears and grief so great, he thought it would consume him. Yet again he had failed.

  "Get a doctor," he screamed, but Leah had already run from the room. He could hear her shouting orders as her voice receded down the hall. He dragged the counterpane off the bed, jammed it against his brother's chest. Geoffrey's lashes fluttered open.

  "Why, damn you?" Richard demanded, hot tears burning his eyes. "Don't you know how much I love you?"

  "Not worth your love-"

  "Shut up, you stupid, bloody fool. I will not let you die. Do you hear me? Goddamn your everlasting hide. You will live. And then I will thrash you for putting me through this."

  The choking rasp of his voice belied his angry words. How much anguish was one family to suffer? How much pain to atone for one man's sins? A child's future shrouded by secrets and lies was not enough? Eric's death was not enough? Now this?

  Geoffrey gave a watery laugh, wheezing as he sucked in a breath. "Can't do nothing right. Not even this."

  Two footmen rushed in with Leah close behind them. Her cheeks were pale, but she issued orders as clearly and calmly as Wellington wading through a smoke-covered battlefield. "Help the duke get him on the bed. Be careful of his head. Bring the doctor the moment he arrives, and bring clean linens for bandages"

  A chamber maid carried in a basin of fresh water.

  Leah soaked a cloth in it, stroked it across Geoffrey's forehead and cheeks, but he had succumbed to the pain and the alcohol and was unaware of her presence.

  "He will be all right," she said, gripping Richard's arm.

  The warmth of her skin seemed to flow through her fingertips and diffuse through his body. Her reassuring presence was the only calm in the whirlpool of pain and fear swirling around him.

  He felt oddly detached from the moment, as if he were watching the events from a very great distance, through a spy glass or a telescope, his vision blurred by darkness and fog.

  His skin was cold, his mind numb. He had no awareness of the passage of time. It seemed like hours, but it could have been minutes before the doctor who had treated Leah following her injury rushed into the room. His periwig sat crooked on his head. His waistcoat was mis-buttoned, as if he'd dressed hurriedly and in the dark, but he hustled across the floor with an air of barely suppressed energy that belied his bulky frame.

  He set to work removing Geoffrey's shirt. "You might wish to leave," he said to Leah. "This is likely to be distressing."

  She shook her head. "No, I will stay and assist you"

  Richard would have been shocked had she answered oth
erwise. If there was one thing he had learned about his wife, she had a core of steel hidden inside her soft, feminine body.

  The doctor gave a curt nod. He peeled Geoffrey's shirt from the wound. "The ball ripped through the fleshy part of his left shoulder," he said, probing the gaping hole with an instrument that looked as if it were designed for torturing innocent souls during the Spanish Inquisition. "Tore away a chunk of skin, a bite of muscle, but doesn't seem to have hit any bone ""

  Richard's stomach rolled, but Leah didn't appear disturbed. She took the bloody probe when the doctor held it out to her, then handed him the next instrument he called for.

  The doctor squinted, his spectacles slipping down his nose as he picked out bits of cloth from the mangled flesh. "Provided the infection doesn't settle in, he should be right as rain when he heals, though he will have a great deal of pain, and perhaps a decreased range of motion. All and all, a very lucky young man"

  After washing the wound, the doctor stitched it closed, then spread a poultice over the battered skin and bandaged the whole in strips of linen. "The secret is keeping the wound clean and properly bandaged. Give him laudanum for the pain and contact me at the first sign of distress."

  "Thank you so much for coming," Leah said as she guided the doctor to the door. "Let me see you out"

  Richard pulled a chair close to the bed. He clutched his brother's hand in his fist. Geoffrey lay as still as death, his face the same bleached white as the pillow covers beneath his head. If it weren't for the rhythmic motion of his chest, Richard would believe him already dead.

  The door creaked open. Richard knew it was Leah, knew it without her saying a word. He listened to her soft footsteps pad across the floor, felt her arm encircle his shoulders as she came up beside him. He pulled her close, seeking her warmth, seeking her strength and her sanity in a world gone suddenly insane.