“Ahh,” Dr. Walters said as he pulled out a bottle that looked a great deal like whiskey. “We’ll sterilize the best we can and get Miss Hershel to change the bandages regularly.” He frowned as he lay Mason back down. “If we can ward off infection, you’ll recover.”
Mason didn’t respond.
The wound was even more shallow than the one he’d nearly died from six years prior. He drew in a breath as hope filled his lungs.
He thought about Clarissa’s claim that she was a bad person.
He didn’t believe it. Not even for a second.
But in case luck wasn’t with him, he would be prepared. “Logan,” he grunted as the doctor began to measure out liquid for sterilizing. “There is something you should know. The men that attacked us tonight are the same ones who tried to light the orphanage on fire a month ago.”
Logan drew in a sharp breath. “Penny told me about the letters. Is what happened tonight connected?”
“I think so,” Mason clenched his fists as the doctor moved him again. Pain radiated out from his side. He blinked away the haze from his eyes. Right now, he needed to focus on what helped Clarissa the most. “I’m going to need to ask you a favor.”
“What’s that?” Logan stepped closer.
“You know the Archbishop of Canterbury?”
The other man straightened, his eyes widening in surprise and then registering understanding. “Now?”
He reached out placing his hand on the other man’s arm. “We don’t want to be caught unprepared. We’ll marry first thing in the morning. As a countess…”
Logan placed a hand on Mason’s shoulder. “I appreciate the thought, but the wound is small enough.”
Mason shook his head. “I built this fortune for her. I have every intention of making sure she gets it.”
“It’s not entailed?”
Mason shook his head. “You already know I was a bastard. The title was given to me five years ago with nothing attached to it but a crumbling castle somewhere in the north. Everything else is mine. We’ll need a lawyer as well to make certain every penny goes to her.”
“She’ll resist. I’m certain of it. She’s more stubborn than any woman I’ve ever met.”
Mason gave a shallow laugh, pain radiating through his side. Negotiating was his strength and, as he was injured, he held the trump card. An advantage he’d use to the fullest. It was not his finest moment as a man, he knew that. He had to wonder who was truly the bad person in this relationship because he was using his injury to coerce her. He grimaced but pressed on. “I know my angel. Leave sealing the deal to me.”
Logan gave him a small smile in return. “I have every faith in you. You even got me to join a business I was ready to quit. Clearly your skills are exceptional.”
Mason closed his eyes. He appreciated the compliment. But right now, he needed to prepare his argument.
He hated to do it. Clarissa was the most important thing in his life, and he didn’t wish to jeopardize that by manipulating her into a marriage; but he also couldn’t risk leaving this world without giving her every protection that was at his disposal.
“You’re in good hands with Dr. Walters. I’m going to leave before the hour grows too late.” Logan gave his shoulder a light pat. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“Thank you,” Mason replied. “Send Clarissa back in on your way, please.”
“Good luck.”
Mason closed his eyes. He’d need it.
He didn’t have to open them again to know that Clarissa had entered the room. He heard the swish of her dress, the soft pad of her slippers. But more than that, he felt the way the air changed in her presence. Like the energy before a storm. It charged the room.
“Can I help you?” Clarissa asked.
He pried open his eyes, only to realize that she hadn’t been speaking to him. It was the doctor she looked at.
“There’s blood on your dress,” he murmured. “We’ll have to buy you a new one.”
“It is a pity,” she sighed. “It was brand new and one of the nicest things I’ve ever owned.” Then she brushed back his hair. “How could you save my skin and ruin my dress?”
He let out a short breath, trying not to laugh. It bloody hurt when he did. “I wasn’t half as brave as you.”
Her fingers stilled in his hair. “We’ve been over that. My bravery was really foolishness that might yet get you killed.”
He winced. Clearly, he wasn’t quite on his game. Then again, her guilt would go far in his argument. “I should have taken you away from the club the moment you arrived.”
She leaned down then, and her lips brushed his temple even as liquid poured onto the wound. Why hadn’t the doctor warned him? His fists clenched as burning pain coursed through him.
One of her hands wrapped around his wrist, a soft stroke against the tense muscles in his arm. “I should never have gone there at all. I put you in danger. I…” Her fingers tightened.
He wasn’t going to lose this battle. “I should have moved the club’s location. It’s not the first incident and it won’t be the last. The fault is mine.”
She paused, relaxing her hand. “Did you just best me at blame?”
He opened his eyes to look into the clear blue of hers. “You saved my life six years ago, Clarissa. I’m here today because of you. I refuse to accept that you are the reason bad things happen.”
Her lashes fluttered down, covering her eyes. “You’re the only one.”
“No,” he said it too emphatically, pain twisting his insides. “I guarantee that Penny does not think that.” He knew the next point to strike in his argument. “And the orphans? Do you think Natty thinks you’ve made her life worse?”
Her face spasmed. He knew he’d struck a chord. “Of course her life is better. But that’s Penny’s doing, not mine.”
He shook his head. He was very close. He knew exactly what she wanted. He hated manipulating her but he needed her at his side. “Listen to me. You are a caregiver. You always have been. You know how to touch people in a way that heals them inside and out.”
Her eyes flew open then, staring into his once again. “Do you really think so?”
He wasn’t just trying to get his way this time. He meant the words with his whole heart. “I know so.”
“I’m going to need to lift him to get the bandages around his middle,” the doctor interrupted.
Clarissa straightened. “Let me help you.”
Part of Mason wanted to forge ahead. But allowing a break in the conversation would only strengthen his argument. He remained quiet as the doctor helped to lift him and Clarissa wrapped fresh bandaging around his middle.
Some women might agree to marry an earl simply because they wanted to be a countess. Others because of his wealth.
But not Clarissa.
Clarissa would consent to it because of the children. And he loved her for it.
He only hoped she didn’t hate him when she realized the way he’d manipulated her.
Chapter Nine
Clarissa wrapped the bandages about his middle and tried to ignore the way, even injured, his muscles rippled beneath her hands.
The man had always been her weakness.
She’d dreamed of him before she’d barely understood what love was.
And now…here he was trying to convince her to marry him.
And she’d said no.
Ridiculous. Except her father’s voice echoed in her head. Bad luck…ruined his life…never be worth a shilling.
Tears stung at her eyes. She didn’t need shillings. But she did want to be good. Good for others, good for herself.
She skimmed her hand down Mason’s bare arm. Would she be good for him or would she destroy him with her misdeeds like she feared she would?
Her fingertips tingled as they skimmed his body. Was she allowing the tension that crackled inside her to coerce her decisions? She wanted to be near him. She couldn’t deny that fact.
Clarissa wanted to bel
ieve him when he said she’d saved his life. Because that changed everything.
She straightened, eyeing the fresh white bandages wrapped about his middle. They looked wholesome except for the blood that was already seeping through the one side. She winced as she gently pulled the blankets over him.
“I’ll be back in the morning to check on him,” the doctor said. “Can I leave him in your capable hands?”
Part of her was tempted to say no. Someone else should be in charge of keeping him alive. But who? She’d done it before, and she would do it again. “I’ll do my best.”
“I’ll be fine. Thank you, Doctor.” Mason reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers.
“You don’t know that,” she said the moment the door clicked closed. “What if you’re not all right? What if an infection sets in again?”
He tugged on her hand, pulling her closer. “You’re right. It’s a possibility to be certain. And if I die, it won’t be your fault. People die. It’s part of life.”
She drew in a sharp breath. An acidic sensation spread through her stomach, the idea of Mason dying too sad for her to register. “Your death would be directly the fault of several of my actions.”
“Clarissa.” He tugged again, and she found herself sitting next to him, her hip pressing against his, his heat seeping into her side. “You didn’t shoot me. In fact, if we’d like to be technical, you shot the man who shot me.”
She winced, her heart thudding in her chest. It hurt her to think of hurting another person no matter the circumstances. “Do you think I killed him?”
“No,” he soothed. “But I can tell you when I think of you running an orphanage, those children will be lucky to have someone who can defend them.”
Those words soothed like a balm to her raw insides. “Really? I didn’t think of it like that.”
“I saw you holding Natty. In the church. It made me ache because I could remember the way your fingers felt stroking my skin. It helped the broken parts inside me heal.”
How did he know she’d needed to hear those very words? For years, she’d needed them. “I want to help people.”
“I know you do, sweetheart,” he answered, his voice smooth and so easy. “Now. Would you consider allowing me to help you to help others?”
“How?” she asked. A tremble ran down her spine and she found herself leaning closer. She needed to touch him. It was like his heat and strength soothed her most open wounds.
He reached up and cupped her cheek. “Marry me.”
“What?” That made her try to draw back, but his hand held her firm. “You don’t want me…”
“I do,” he said. “I told you. I believed I was worthless until I met you. You showed me another way.” His fingers tightened. “And now that you’re grown…” He paused. “I know you feel the connection between us.”
A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed it down, blinking back emotion. “Mason.”
“Listen,” he whispered. “I might die. If I do, I have a fortune, Clarissa. You could use it to fund all the orphanages you want. Think of it this way. My father, who thought I wasn’t worth the air I breathed, would have created the largest social project in all of England. That would be the perfect justice.”
Despite her worries, Clarissa smiled at that. “I suppose it would be justice for me too. My father thought I ruined his life. Imagine if I saved so many others.”
He squeezed her fingers. “He was wrong. Worse, he was selfish. You didn’t ruin his life, he did that himself and then used you as a scapegoat.”
Something in those words made her think as she never had before. Had her father been lashing out for his own failures? She’d never been able to ask. He’d taken his own life just before the creditors had taken everything else.
If her neighbor hadn’t taken her to the church, she might have been one of the assets carted off. “Do you really think that?”
“I do. Just like I think that my father hated my life because I was a reminder of his weakness.”
She nodded. That made sense. “And so you think we should marry so that I have access to your fortune in case you die?”
“That’s right.”
“And if you live?” She pressed closer again and she felt his pulse speed up under her fingers against his wrist.
“What do you mean?” He slid his gaze to the far wall.
“Will I still be able to open several orphanages? It’s important to me to help people in my own right.”
“As many as you want.”
He nearly had her. He could feel it. He could always sense when he was close to closing a deal.
She pressed her lips together, a crease forming between her eyes. “And what is it you want from our union?”
His heart skipped a beat.
What did he want?
Her.
Always her.
But he didn’t want to frighten her. “Besides continued retribution against my father for making me feel so worthless?”
She gave him a soft smile. “You don’t need me to start orphanages.”
He closed his eyes. Didn’t he? “I don’t have your hands, sweetheart. They’ve got the touch.”
She leaned down then, her lips trailing along his forehead, his cheek, along his jaw. “Is that it? That’s all you want?”
How did he explain that for once in his life, he wanted someone at his side who held him with tenderness? Who’d soothe and support him? “I’d like a baby someday.” Where had that come from? “One that I love and support and give all the things in life I never had.”
“Oh,” the single word floated from her lips on a sigh.
And that was when he knew. He’d found the one thing she may very well want more than a parcel of orphans. A baby of her very own.
He should have known.
The way she touched him and held Natty, the way she cared for the other children who lived with her. It was a mother’s love. She was a natural.
And he’d meant the words. He wanted that too. He just hadn’t realized until he’d actually spoken them. “Do you want that too?
Her voice was so soft, he might have missed it. “Yes.”
“Then marry me, Clarissa. I’ll give you everything you want in this world. One way or the other.” Which was true. Even if he died, some other man would step into his place. She’d be wealthy, a countess.
But that made him ache. To think of another man holding her close.
Because he loved her. Had for a long time.
“You would be happy with me as your wife? You’re not worried that I bring bad luck?”
“Not even a little.” Letting go of her hand, he gingerly pushed himself further up in the bed. “Clarissa, will you be my wife?
She gave a tentative nod. “Yes.”
Victory sang in his blood. He’d closed another deal. And this one brought him more riches than any before it. It brought her.
Now he just had to convince her to love him as much as he did her.
Either that, or he’d have to keep getting wounded. Because the gentle stroke of her fingers was his life’s blood.
Chapter Ten
The night was long.
Not entirely unpleasant, Clarissa mused as she watched Mason sleep. She’d dosed him with laudanum.
Rest would help him heal better than anything else.
She’d fallen in and out of sleep, restless, and she woke often to make certain he was comfortable.
She’d agreed to be his wife. A countess. How could this actually be happening?
He’d offered her the very dreams she held close to her heart. As many orphanages as she could dream of running. A way to prove she was a good person. A family of her own. And best of all, he’d offered himself.
She leaned forward and allowed her fingers to stroke along his jaw. His skin was still cool to the touch. A good sign.
He breathed evenly as he continued to sleep.
So this was love.
Her heart hamme
red in her chest. She should have realized sooner. The way she’d dreamed of Mason.
But would she hurt him by agreeing to be his wife?
She wanted to believe what he’d said about her father being selfish. And the priest. She smiled into the darkness to think of Mason sending him away. And Penny.
Penny’s life had become wonderful. She was a countess too and she’d found the love of her life. Perhaps Mason was right after all and Clarissa had been living with needless fear.
He shifted in his sleep and then murmured her name, his hand reaching out. She clasped it in her own and without thought, slid next to him on the bed. His warmth seeped into her, the firm press of his lean frame and in the dark of the night, she found herself drifting off to sleep.
She had no idea how much time had passed but when she woke, dawn filtered through the windows.
And Mason was awake.
His dark eyes looking straight into hers.
Clarissa nearly gasped to see him. His skin was pale, but his eyes glittered with that same mysterious fire that threatened to engulf her. “You’re awake.”
One corner of his lip curled up. “I am. It was a beautiful sleep with you pressed to my side.”
“How do you feel?” She started to sit up, but he reached for her, stilling her movements.
He lightly stroked her arms. “Sore but otherwise fine.”
She touched his forehead and smiled with relief. “Still nice and cool.”
“We’re marrying today,” he said.
“Today?” She did sit up then. “Really? So quickly?”
“Did I not mention that?” He relaxed back into the bed. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m not myself.”
That seemed reasonable enough. He was injured after all. “It’s fine. But how did you manage to get all the details into place while you’ve been bedridden?”
“Mostly it was Logan,” he answered.
Her brow scrunched. “How long have I been asleep?”
He laughed at that. “Not that long.”
She drew in a deep breath. She supposed it didn’t matter. After rising, she poured a glass of water from the pitcher, and brought the glass to his lips.
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