“Good thing there aren’t women in the army,” he muttered as they entered the blue bedchamber. The freshly distempered walls, new royal-blue, and gold silk drapes and bed curtains lent the room an elegant air. He held the bedpost and gazed around. “You have been busy.”
Was that vulnerability in his eyes? He’d always seemed invincible. Some of his class was brought up with very little affection. Sent off to school when barely out of babyhood. She would not do that to her sons. They wouldn’t be taught to hide their emotions beneath bluster and bravado. His vulnerability had defused her anger and resentment as she’d taken charge.
Selina folded back the bed cover, checked the sheets for damp and that the bed warmer was in place. Devereux toppled onto the bed with a groan and propped himself up on his elbows, his breathing labored.
“As you have no manservant, I’ll send Frobisher to help you undress.”
He caught her arm. “No. You do it, Selina.”
Chapter Eight
Selina fought the pull of attraction as she unraveled Devereux’s cravat and helped him out of his coat then his waistcoat. She placed his watch and fobs on the bureau. Returning, she pulled his shirt over his head, tamping down a desire to run her hands over him. There was a sprinkling of dusky hair on the sculptured planes of his chest. Would it feel rough or soft beneath her fingers? His light olive skin had recently seen the sun in warmer climes. His belly was flat and ridged with muscle, and a line of hair disappeared into his breeches. He rolled to his side to allow her to free the sheets and blankets beneath him.
Selina cried out. Deep purple bruises, turning almost black, covered his sides and back. “You’ve been hurt. What caused this?”
“Never mind,” he said roughly. “It’s the reason I asked you to help me. This remains between you and me. I want nothing said about it. Do you understand?”
“If you wish. But I’d like to know what caused them when you feel it appropriate to tell me.”
“Don’t badger me.” With a sigh, Devereux laid his head back on the pillow. “There’s a clean nightshirt in my bag. Help me off with my breeches.”
She hesitated.
“Now’s not the time to be prudish, woman,” he said. “You’re in no danger from me.” He huffed out a laugh. “My spirit is always willing, but the flesh…” He broke off as another coughing fit shook him.
“When you’re well again, I trust you will tell me. Also, the reason you left me alone at an inn on our wedding day.”
“Better that you don’t know, Selina.”
“Allow me to be the judge of that.”
Feeling his body, softly coiled beneath her fingers, she fumbled with his buttons.
“As you see,” he said with a trace of irony, “quite safe.”
Her face burned. She grabbed the bottoms of his breeches and pulled hard. He wore no underwear. Her gaze lingered for a moment on his maleness.
“Not quite at my best,” he said between clenched teeth. “I’m as weak as a kitten.”
“We must get you into bed.”
“I did warn you it would be a poor bargain you’d get with me, madam.”
“It hasn’t been the best of starts, has it?” she said lightly, hiding her concern and compassion. She knew it wouldn’t be welcome.
She took the white lawn nightshirt from his bag and threw it over his head, dressing him as she did Anne’s children. As she pulled the garment down, her face came close to his. She stared into his feverish eyes.
He moved with a speed that surprised her, pulling her against him. His big hand cupped her chin and brought her face close to his. “I want to kiss you, dammit,” he said, his blue eyes raking hers. “But I won’t pass this on to you.”
She pulled away, wishing he’d risked it. “Thank you for your consideration.”
“Not in love with me anymore, then.”
“What makes you think I ever was? Oh, sorry, I’m a weak female, so I must be.”
He gave a hoot of laughter. It turned into a hacking cough that left him breathless.
“Why did you marry me?” he asked when he could get his breath.
“A home of my own.”
“You had a comfortable life and an agreeable fortune. Some decent fellow would have turned up to give you a home and children.”
“But you have a title.” She hated the lie. He mustn’t discover her secret. He would judge her a poor thing, and she needed his respect. She regretted the words the moment they were out of her mouth. Pride comes before a fall.
Troubled blue eyes searched hers. “I sensed my title meant little to you, Selina. Or do I not know you at all?”
“Well, that makes two of us, my lord. For you are a complete mystery to me.”
Someone scratched at the door. Mary entered with a bowl of cold water and a cloth.
Selina tucked the sheets and blankets around him, adding another blanket for good measure. She dipped a cloth in the water and wrung it out then placed it on his forehead.
He reached up and took hold of her wrist, encircling it with his long fingers. “Have you been lonely?”
“I’ve been busy, as you see.”
“But the nights, lonely and…bored rigid?”
“I like to read.”
“By candlelight?” He grinned and kissed the inside of her wrist. “You’ll ruin your pretty green eyes.”
She started at the compliment. “You shouldn’t talk,” she said, hiding how pleased it made her. What a poor fool she was to pounce on every small crumb he threw her. She pulled her hand from his grasp. “You need to rest.”
He shut his eyes and fell instantly into a deep sleep. His labored breathing frightened her. Was it lung disease? She went to the fire and raked it with the poker. Sparks flew up the chimney. Pulling the bell cord, she ordered more firewood when the footman came. Whatever the doctor said, she would remain to watch him until morning.
She was that weak female she spoke of so scathingly. Whatever he was, whatever he’d done, she loved him. Instinct told her not to allow him to take control of her, however. Not only would that prove a mistake, she needed time. She didn’t understand him, or any of this. He hadn’t apologized for deserting her or offered her any explanation, not even a feeble one. She’d never caught him out in a lie. It was more what he didn’t say. Devereux was a force, like the wind, she thought bemusedly. He didn’t expect her to get in his way. Still, she’d hoped for at least some approval for what she’d achieved here but had no idea if it pleased him. Rather, she suspected the changes had caused him pain.
She watched him as he slept, studying the elegant bones of his face without the distraction of his intense blue gaze. At times, his full lips could quirk up with mocking humor. But in repose, his mouth was generous with a hint of passion, which made her sigh. She mightn’t be as beautiful as he would wish, but she’d fight to gain his respect at least. And he must earn hers.
What she refused to consider for a moment was that he might die.
****
Devereux woke. “I hear you, Doctor Phillips. You can keep your potions to yourself.” He closed his eyes and fell asleep again.
“He will recover?” Fearing his answer, Selina watched the doctor close his bag.
He raised his grey eyebrows. “His lordship is a strong man, but the next couple of days will be testing. He should have been resting up the moment this hit him not gallivanting round the country. Heaven knows what has caused all that bruising on his back. A fall from his horse?”
“He hasn’t yet said.”
He shook his head. “A difficult patient as a boy too. Didn’t want me to set his broken arm when he fell from a tree. Said it was a graze. We had quite a tussle. I don’t see any evidence that he’s changed.” He smiled to take the sting out of his words. “With a bit of luck, you’ll find him on the mend and just as bad-tempered tomorrow.”
Devereux opened his eyes and groaned. “Are you still here, Phillips? Can’t a man be left in peace?”
The d
octor winked at Selina. “Rest is what his lordship needs. Keep the room as warm as you can. I approve of your treatments. Keep them up. He can have laudanum for his aches and pains and give him a spoonful of this three times a day.” He handed Selina a bottle of medicine. “I’ll come again tomorrow.”
“Thank you for coming so swiftly, Doctor,” Selina said.
“We doctors always scurry to the ton,” he said, his grey eyes twinkling. “Don’t know why. They seldom pay their bills.”
“We pay our bills here,” she said with a smile.
He shook her hand. “I’ve known his lordship since he was in short trousers. If I may be so bold, I’m pleased he has married, and I’m very glad it’s to you, Lady Halcrow. What you’ve achieved here at Halcrow Hall is little short of a miracle.”
He paused at the door. “You might have his lordship bathed. If nothing else, it will make him feel better.”
Chapter Nine
After the doctor had gone, Selina called for hot water, soap, and towels. In the flickering candlelight, she drew down the blankets, rolled up his nightshirt, and began to wipe the sweat away, dipping the cloth in the water, wringing it out, and stroking his body, before gently patting it dry. She started at his feet then his legs, discovering, with inner delight, every perfect inch of his body. She left that awkward part until last, fearing she would wake him.
It had to be done. She was tentatively dabbing at his groin when his manhood stirred and stood to attention.
“Can’t I take my eyes off you for a minute?” an amused voice said. She looked up to find him watching her.
“The doctor told me to wash you.”
“I must thank him when I see him. Please continue but be careful. What you begin, I may finish.”
She dried him quickly and poured out a spoonful of medicine. Raising his head, she slipped the linctus between his parched lips. He closed his eyes and was soon breathing deeply.
“Promises, promises,” she said softly.
When he rolled over, she studied the bruises, a kaleidoscope of yellow, grey, and purple. She’d found a bruise on his chin, and his knuckles were swollen. What had he been up to? A fight with a cuckolded husband? She gently washed his strong back and rounded backside then toweled him dry and pulled down his nightshirt. When she tucked him in, he didn’t stir.
Drained, she lay down on a chaise lounge she’d had brought in, discovering it to be more decorative than comfortable. She pulled a rug over herself and dozed.
Hours later Selina rose again to tuck him in after he’d tossed off his bedclothes. He moaned and muttered in his sleep. She wearily returned to her makeshift bed and closed her eyes, trying to snatch some rest.
“No! You’re wasting your time, damn you, you bastard.”
Selina woke with a start. Devereux was crying out. She leapt up and went to him, but he was still in a deep sleep.
“By God, you’ll have to kill me!” he ground out, his face rigid with anger.
She dipped the cloth in the bowl and gently stroked his sweaty brow. He didn’t stir.
What did his words mean? She lay down again, not expecting to sleep.
Selina woke as the first pale rays of sunlight peeped through the break in the curtains. The room was deathly quiet. Fear clutched her throat. She threw off the rug, stumbling to the bed. He was alive, thank God, but deeply asleep. Her hand settled on his forehead. It was blessedly cool. A tear rolled down her cheek, and she flicked it away with a finger, excusing it as weakness. She was drained. Tiptoeing back to her bed, she lay down and closed her eyes.
Selina woke again with a start. Sunshine flooded in and warmed the room. She must have slept for hours. She sat up too quickly and her head spun. Devereux lay with a hand supporting his head, watching her.
“You’re awake.” She clamped her lips on a crow of delight and struggled out of her blanket, untangling her creased gown, which had gathered up around her legs. “Are you feeling better?”
He nodded. “You should not have forsaken your bed for me, Selina.”
“It’s of no consequence. Any wife would do the same.”
His gaze roamed over her. “Your hair is coming down.”
Selina put a hand to her tangled curls. She must look a fright. She walked to the door. “I’ll go and change and order your breakfast.”
“Don’t rush off. Come here.”
She hesitated. “Why?”
“I want to talk to you. Do I look like I’m capable of more?”
She remained with one hand on the door. “You talked in your sleep last night…argued, with someone. Do you know who it was?”
“You ask too many questions. Come and sit here.” He patted the bed. “Your lord and master demands it.”
She raised her chin. “I won’t be long.”
“Are you afraid of me?” Amusement lit his blue eyes. “What if I ask nicely? Please.”
Suddenly breathless, Selina came to perch on the edge of the bed beside him. “Of course I’m not.”
Devereux reached up and pulled the remaining pins from her hair. Her locks slid down her back to her waist. He threaded his fingers through the strands. “I’ve wanted to see your hair loose,” he said. “A waterfall of ebony silk.”
She swallowed; her heart was truly at risk when he was charming. “It’s brown.”
“Not brown. It has sun-kissed streaks of coffee amongst the black.”
She wasn’t ready. Her needy heart swelled. He could easily charm her right out of her clothes, and her common sense. She attempted a frown. “My hair is the exact same color as my mother’s. Brown.”
“You are being contrary. You’re a stubborn woman.”
“Such compliments, you’ll turn my head.”
He toyed with the hooks on the back of her cambric gown. “I’d like to see what you keep hidden. It’s only fair; you’ve seen all of me.” Amusement flickered in his eyes at her guarded expression. “I want to unwrap you like a present, on a voyage of discovery, one piece of clothing at a time.”
“You must be feeling better.” As her body tightened with need, she moved away, half-afraid he’d attempt to put his words into action. “I’ll see to your breakfast.”
He sighed. “If you must. No gruel or invalid food, mind.”
“You’ll have what the doctor said you should eat,” she said, now on surer ground.
His eyes widened. “Have I married a harridan? You, madam, take advantage of my weakened state.”
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it while she allowed herself a small smile then hurried to her chamber.
By nightfall, he was aching, and his temperature had risen again. The doctor had warned that this might happen, and Selina was ready for it. As he tossed and turned fretfully, she attended him, trying to ease him and make him more comfortable. In the morning, after a very bad night for both of them, he seemed a little better.
This went on for the better part of a week, and at the end of it, the patient had two good nights in a row and began looking a great deal better.
“You are now in the convalescent stage,” the doctor told him. “You must take things carefully. You may sit in a chair for an hour or so but keep warm. And no undo exertion.”
“I shall move back into my own chamber,” Selina said after the doctor had gone.
Devereux raised his brows. “You might join me here.”
“The doctor said no physical exertion,” she said, tamping down her smile at his scowl.
“If I could get out of this bed, madam…” he began. Then to her surprise, he laughed, and she laughed with him.
While he bore his infirmity stoically and didn’t complain, Selina sensed when his head or back ached, and then she would give him laudanum or a back rub. He seemed to enjoy the latter and she knew the day was coming when he would be strong enough to demand more from her. She longed for that day herself.
At the end of the second week, Devereux sat in the morning sun, gazing out the window, watching the gard
eners at work below in the gardens. He impatiently pushed back a lock of blond hair that swung across his face.
“You need a shave and a haircut. As you no longer have a valet, I’ll send for the village barber.”
“You do it, Selina.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll cut your throat?”
He grinned. “Make a good job of it if you do.”
She went away and found his shaving things and a sharp pair of scissors. She returned to settle a towel around his shoulders as he sat back in the chair.
She soaped his face carefully, taking in every loved feature she longed to kiss. As she leaned over him, he moved his knee, positioning it between her legs. A thrill unnerved her, and her hand shook. She hesitated before making a small scrape at his cheek.
“Not like that, woman.” He removed the razor from her hand. “I’d rather face a French cavalry officer with sabre drawn than have you shave me. Fetch me a mirror.”
She held up a hand mirror and watched his long fingers grip the razor as he expertly shaved off his beard.
“You get used to doing for yourself in the army,” he said as he tidied his sideburns. “You don’t always have your batman at hand.”
“I’d like to hear about your army days.”
“Not now.” The note of finality in his voice warned her not to pursue it.
He wiped his face with a towel. “That feels better. How do I look?”
He still had dark circles under his eyes. She took a breath, aware of just how sick he’d been. “Better.”
With a nervous intake of breath, she picked up the scissors. His golden hair, streaked with whiskey tones, settled over his shoulders. “How short shall I make it?”
He shrugged. “Whatever you like.”
Selina leaned in, and his shoulder pressed into her stomach as she ran her fingers through his hair. The gold strands were as silky to the touch as they appeared. Chewing her bottom lip, she began to cut. The sound of their breathing and the click of the scissors filled the quiet room. The atmosphere seemed charged with expectation as her fingers settled on the nape of his neck. His hair was so thick it slid away from the scissor blades, making her fear she would hack it out of shape. She parted it and cut in sections, tuffs of hair falling onto the sheet and the floor.
At the Earl's Convenience Page 5
