“Were you here all night?” he asked.
“Yes. I came in after Arthur had you settled, so the work was done. All I did was sit with you.”
He placed his hand to his head, probing gently where a faint headache pestered. It was a typical aftereffect of the opium tincture. He was so used to it now, he hardly felt more than a mild annoyance. “I don’t remember anything.”
“You became ill the evening before last—”
“Two days? I have lost two days?”
“Hush. Yes, I’m afraid so. It was a particularly bad attack. You were unconscious most of the time.”
He watched the way the sunlight glanced off her hair, turning it almost white. It was such a glorious color. Unusual and lovely, like the woman herself. “Most of the time, eh? I had some outrageous dreams. I can’t really remember them, but a few images keep flitting around my brain, skirting away before I can fasten onto them.”
“You had delirium,” she explained.
Magnus groaned. “What did I say?” The Lord only knew what unguarded statements might have escaped when he was out of his mind.
She shook her head. “It was mostly unintelligible. The rest was the usual ramblings.” She was so nonchalant, he relaxed. Tentatively, she added, “I am glad you are not angry. Magnus, I wanted to be with you, as any wife would. Can’t you allow that, if not for you, then for me?”
He was silent while he considered this. “I admit,” he said slowly, “it was a comfort to me to know you were here.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “And since you are a disobedient, stubborn wife who will not listen in any event, I suppose I must concede.”
She nodded, hitching up her leg like a tomboy and perching on the edge of his bed. “You know, I was thinking about the stream. Remember the spot you showed me by the delta, overlooking the flats?” At his nod, she continued, “I was thinking of how lovely it must look in the snow, and thought we might take the horses out as soon as you’ve recovered.”
He gave her his best insolent look. “Are you inviting me to make good on my offer to make love to you there?”
The high spots of color on her cheeks amused him, but she surprised him by smiling. “It’s freezing!”
He brought her fingers to his lips. “I promise you will not feel it.”
She laughed. He did, too.
Surprisingly, he was only mildly resentful of her having disobeyed him.
It was hard to accept her caring, yet somehow not as much as it had been weeks ago. The decision had been taken out of his hands, and for the first time in a long time, he was truly dependent on someone who was not paid to attend him. His pride rankled, but another, softer part of his being was at ease. The change, as inexplicable as it was, was not unwelcome.
Caroline’s fair brows furrowed. “Magnus, I am so sorry. I did not conceive this month.”
It was a disappointment, but he didn’t let her see it. “Well, perhaps we shall just have to try harder.”
She touched his shoulder in an instinctive gesture of affection. “Yes, well, I can see where your mind is headed. If you are planning so much exertion, you had better get your rest.”
“I hate being coddled,” he protested. “I’m starving, and I am disgusted with this bed.”
“I’ll order you something to eat, and then you must rest. The sooner you gain your strength, the sooner you will be out of bed.”
He opened his mouth to protest but she held up a single finger to forbid it.
Easing back, he crossed his arms behind his head. For some insane reason, he liked the way she tried to boss him. She was positively adorable with her chin jutting out and a stern expression on her classic features. “Very well,” he conceded. “If you promise to go with me to the delta as soon as I am up to it.”
She held her hand over her heart and nodded before getting up to reach for the bellpull. As delightful as he found her companionship, Magnus wished she would leave him alone for a while. He needed time to think, assimilate the strange feelings that had followed him out of his illness. It was as if some wretched barrier was starting to crumble. Wouldn’t half of London have a fine laugh if they knew the Earl of Rutherford was allowing himself to be nursed by this sweet-faced beauty? And, quite amazingly, not disliking it.
He ate under Caroline’s watchful eyes. “Do you always consume so much after you recover?” she asked.
“Usually,” he answered between bites. When he was finished she took the tray and exited the room, finally leaving him to the solitude he craved.
Yet the moment she was gone, he wanted to call her back. His thoughts crowded in his brain. His pride had urged him to keep Caroline at arm’s distance, and perhaps a bit of self-preservation as well. Leaving this earth would not be easy, but leaving Caroline was impossible. If he allowed himself to get too close to the intoxicating woman who was his wife, it would only make things more complex.
He had hated needing her. So, he had hurt her. Pushed her away, said savage, unthinkable things and used her body to slake the undeniable desire that ruled him in spite of his attempts to rein it under control. He was no better than he had always been.
And the absolute worst affront he had committed was when she had told him she cared, and he had berated her for it, all because he could not bear it, because it was precisely what he yearned for with all of his heart.
His weak, cursed heart. He had laughed when the doctors had told him their diagnosis. A diseased heart. “I am surprised I still have one, after all,” he had quipped.
Well, he did have one. And it was aching in more ways than one.
It was an exhilarating, terrifying notion.
He slept, waking feeling stronger already. David came to see him. “Gave us a scare, old boy,” David said with a tremulous attempt at a smile. “See you don’t do it again.”
Caroline allowed them a half hour before she came in and shooed David out. As much as Magnus enjoyed her impertinent little self bustling importantly about his room, he would have none of her fussing. He ordered a bath, then dressed and insisted on eating with the rest of the family in the dining room.
The snow had melted enough to allow travel, and David informed them he was planning to return to London the following day. “Providing you are still on the mend, brother.”
Magnus grunted, “I am fine. I don’t want you lurking about like a ghoul waiting for me to take another attack.”
It was the type of thing he always said to David, yet the younger man grew pale and Magnus could see his Adam’s apple traverse the length of his neck as David swallowed hard. “Right,” David said. “Then I had best be on my way.”
Caroline told him about her latest letter from her mother, which reported James was enjoying the family’s stay with.cousins, was it? On the continent somewhere.
Her face transformed as she breathlessly related how the boy was the envy of the other relatives’ children for the lovely model boat and tin soldiers he had just acquired. Putting the missive down, her eyes shone as she thanked Magnus for his generosity in providing the boy’s treasures.
Magnus felt a curious sensation in the nether regions of his chest. It was a kind of warmth, mixed with a bit of a thrill. He realized, after much analyzing, that it was the feeling one gets when one has done a good deed and sees the fruits of their labor.
He pleaded fatigue and retired early. As he had hoped, Caroline followed shortly thereafter. Entering her room, he took her in his arms and felt the hot spread of wanting flood his veins.
He loved her slowly, taking his time to reacquaint himself with the wonders of her body, reveling when she returned in kind. And when it was over, he wrapped her snugly in his arms and stared at the ceiling.
“What would you have done if I had not asked you to become my wife?” he asked.
Caroline was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I would have done something else to help provide for my family. Whatever I needed to.” She looked up at him, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Why did you choose me?”
>
He ran his finger against her full lips. “Caroline, you were the only one who applied for the position who was in any way suitable.”
Those lovely blue-violet eyes widened, then blinked. “How can that be? Did Mr. Green send no one but me?”
“What need did I have to interview others when I had already made my decision? Not to mention there was not precisely a glut of applicants. Green’s discretion may be part of it, but no society maven would covet me as husband.” He gave her one of his most wicked smiles. “Have you forgotten the rumors?”
She arched a finely etched brow. “You mention them often. Is it that you are so proud of them, then?”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Of course I am proud of them. They do me justice even if they are untrue.”
“There you are talking in riddles again!”
He wanted to kiss her, but he supposed he should explain. “Ninety-nine out of every hundred comments passed about me are untrue. And the one in a hundred that is based on fact winds up being so unrecognizable after the rumor mill has churned it around that it might as well be false.” He took a deep breath, reflecting that this was going to be harder than he thought. “But I am no saint, Caroline. I have not exactly led a life of restraint or decorum. However, I am a very private man. I am a rascal, true enough, but a discreet one. I never cheat—not at cards, not in business—but I don’t flinch even if it means cutting someone out. And I have not, I am afraid to say, been above helping myself to a tempting female’s favors when offered. Yet, I have never uttered a single word to implicate the particular lady. Any innuendo of an alliance would strictly have to have come from her.”
She was watching her finger as it traced light, exciting circles over his breastbone. “So you never made love to a duchess in the fountain of her garden in the middle of a ball given by her husband to celebrate her thirtieth birthday?”
“It was her thirty-fifth birthday,” he answered blandly.
“And it wasn’t a ball. The only reason anyone knows about the fountain is because she told fifty of her closest, dearest friends. She was quite proud of it.”
“But she was married.”
“To a jackass who hated her and slept with any woman who would have him—ah, hell, why am I trying to explain? I told you I deserved my reputation, even if it is built on lies. The truth, I suppose, is just as bad.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you would want to live such a quiet life. Here, in the country, with me. Do you miss London? Your friends, all the fun you had?”
He didn’t hesitate. “No, I think I hated it, even when I was leading the whole pack of us straight to hell. I was merely fulfilling my destiny.”
“What?” she cried. “You must explain that one!”
He couldn’t. Not yet. “Perhaps some day, I will. I told you once before that dying didn’t seem as hard as living. When I found out about my illness, I suddenly knew very clearly what it was I needed to do.”
“Have a child?”
“Marry. Have a legitimate child with a woman who would be strong enough to rear him in my absence. If heredity has its way, I am afraid you will have your hands full, should the boy—or girl!—have any of my traits. Poor Caroline. I am afraid you are finding out what a bad bargain you have made.”
She refused to be distracted. “If you were so clear on what you should do, why did you wait until you were ill to pursue a family life?”
He ran his hand over the alabaster creaminess of her shoulder. “Like most men, I thought I had time. I was a wastrel, after all. I had made up my mind to be the best damned wastrel there was. Came close to it, too.” He sobered. “A family of my own seemed like something out of my reach, too far into the future to foresee. Maybe even something I didn’t deserve.”
Her voice was soft, thoughtful. “Perhaps you really didn’t want it.”
He leveled his gaze to hers. “Perhaps it is what I wanted most of all.”
She studied him for a minute. “Do you really hate children?”
“What?”
“David told me you hated children.”
“He told you—?” Magnus sighed. “I don’t hate children.” He stopped and considered this statement. “Well, only disagreeable ones, and hate is too strong a word. Dislike perhaps. They are forever whining and interrupting and demanding you look at some silly scribble they’ve made with a piece of charcoal and you are to ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ over it as if it is some masterpiece.”
Caroline was staring at him and he was struck all at once at the shallow words he had just uttered. Good God, he was a cad!
“Ah, hell, Cara, I’m not a family man. I’m a selfabsorbed rotter obsessed with my own gratification. That left little time to appreciate the precious cuteness of children.”
Caroline was suddenly angry. “Who told you that?”
“What?”
“That you were a self-absorbed rotter obsessed with self-gratification?”
Her face was screwed up prettily in his defense. He wished he could tell her, and just as that thought registered, he heard his own voice saying, “My father,” before he could check it.
She let out an indignant huff on his behalf. “Well, that is a terrible thing to say. I should think a father would have something more constructive to tell his son.”
He closed his eyes and smiled, grinning like a fool at her innocent taking of his side of the matter. It felt good, so good in fact, he didn’t bother to tell her that his father had been correct.
Chapter Fourteen
November passed quickly, closing with the disappointing discovery that Caroline was not pregnant. That and the letter from her mother requesting the next month’s fees for the sanatorium put her in a state of despair as the advent season began.
All of her moneys had already been allocated to James, with only a little held back for a Christmas gift for Magnus. She had no idea what he would like, and there was certainly nothing he needed. Therefore, she chose something completely frivolous. She found it at a village shop. It was an exquisitely carved ivory tiger placed atop a gold leafed box. The inside was lined with red velvet. She bought it because of the graceful figurine more than anything, for the combination of beauty and danger so often reminded her of her husband. As Christmas neared, she alternated between satisfaction with the trinket and thinking it a silly idea, but as she had nothing else to give him, she did not make an exchange.
Magnus’ health was doing splendidly, suffering one mild attack while out riding with David. It only put him down for the rest of the day.
The Christmas season came upon them and the magnificent house was decked with boughs of holly and mistletoe. A great twelve-foot fir was dragged in and set in the grand salon. Caroline helped hang the candles and bits of leaded crystal from an old chandelier she scavenged from the attics. She wrapped Magnus’ present in gaily colored paper and hung it from a sturdy bough.
Magnus came in to admire her work. “Ah, the tannenbaum. A wonderful German tradition brought to us by our revered Prince Consort.”
“Do you like it?”
Magnus shrugged. “It has a certain charm.”
“What other Christmas traditions do you celebrate at Hawking Park?” she asked.
He told her about the Yule log, the wassail and the carolers who came on Christmas Eve from the village. Services were held Christmas morning, and Mrs. Bronson always prepared a plump stuffed goose for dinner.
Absently, he picked up some decorations and began to help her, talking all the while about Christmases of the past. “My mother always had a house full of guests. My father stood off to one side, watching her as she held court, everyone exchanging presents. That is how I remember them. She the center of attention, and he skirting the fringes, looking on as though he ranked lower in importance than her fawning admirers. A stranger coming in would never guess it was he who was lord of the house.”
“David told me she was charming,” Caroline said, her mind wandering to a diffe
rent picture of her own home during the holiday. Her mother would look at her father with a tight-lipped reserve that contrasted with her forced gaiety as she tried desperately to make a jolly time for Caroline and James. And Louis, always worse for drink, shouting orders and finding fault and generally being his usual disagreeable self.
“She was able to inspire adoration, which was fortunate, for she seemed to need it as much as anyone needs air.” He fell silent, looking off as if seeing faraway times come alive in his imagination.
“You adored her, too.” Caroline took a step closer and touched his arm.
“Of course,” he answered. With a deep breath, he focused on her, smiling. “She would have liked you.”
Her heart swelled at the compliment. “I am sure I would have liked her as well.”
Laughing, he said, “I don’t know about that. Mother was a rather eccentric person. Her charm had its drawbacks. She was completely self-absorbed, and a terrible judge of character. In point of fact, she thought I was a delightful lad.”
“Stop it,” she said without rancor. “You are forever making these cryptic self-deprecating remarks. I know your father had some ill-chosen words for you, but you are not as bad as all that.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Oh, really? And you know me, do you?”
His arms had slipped around her waist. “I think I do. You are a fraud, I think, my lord husband.”
“A fraud?”
“Yes, indeed. You prowl and snarl ferocious words, but you really don’t mean any of it.”
His eyebrows rose to convey his amusement. “And so I am harmless as a lamb?”
“No, I believe I was the one whom you referred to as a lamb. You, Magnus, are definitely feline. Stealth and cunning, beauty and unearthly grace. A tiger.”
She waited to see if he laughed. Cocking his head to one side, he squinted. “A tiger, eh? I suppose if that is the way you see me, then I shall have to live with that.” She was delighted he had accepted her musing. Perhaps he would enjoy her gift after all.
He pulled her close. “And what of you? I fear the image of the lamb no longer fits you, if it ever did.”
A Rose at Midnight Page 14
