“Unhand me. At once, do you hear, or I’ll scream!”
“Will you, indeed?” He loomed closer, crowding her against the wall. What act of violence he intended, Isabella never knew. To her utter relief, just at that moment Alec jerked open the door she had unlocked, and stood scowling at her. As he saw her companion, his scowl changed from the irritable to the dangerous. Bare-chested and barefoot, with a fresh bandage wrapped around his forehead, Alec managed nevertheless to look formidable.
“What the bloody hell is going on out here?” His eyes never left the man who had been menacing Isabella.
“God’s teeth!” the man gasped, his eyes widening as they locked on Alec. “Alec Tyron, the Tiger, here!” His eyes swept back to Isabella. “Of course, I should have tumbled to it at once. The mystery lady.” He paused for a second, then seemed to recollect himself. His eyes slid back to Alec. “I’d heard, of course, that you’d a fresh bird in keeping that was not quite in the common way.”
“John Ball.” Alec’s greeting was cold as stone in winter, and his eyes flicked to the hand that still gripped Isabella’s arm. “ ’Twere I you, I’d unhand the lady at once. Seeing her mishandled sets ill with me.”
“Does it indeed? Then I apologize, of course. To you and to her.”
He removed his hand from Isabella’s arm. At a gesture from Alec, Isabella stepped around him and inside the room. Violence was in the air, and she feared that Alec, injured as he was, stood little chance should this misbegotten encounter degenerate into blows, or worse.
“ ’Tis a good piece from London you are, Tiger.” John Ball’s tone was affable on the surface, but there was an undertone to it that set Isabella’s nerves to quivering with alarm. If ever one man disliked another, John Ball disliked Alec.
“As are you, Ball.” Alec’s voice was infinitely cold.
“One does one’s business where one can.”
“Precisely.”
“Well. I’ll leave you to your labors. From what I’ve seen of them, they look far more enjoyable than mine.”
“Appearances can be misleading.”
“Quite.”
“Quite.”
With that last cryptic exchange Alec shut the door, and turned the key in the lock. Isabella breathed a sigh of relief, then decided she had relaxed too soon. From the stiff set of his wide, bare shoulders, Alec’s temper had not improved during the time she had been belowstairs. The muscles of his back stood out sharply, as if he was keeping himself in check with considerable effort. Stiffening her spine, Isabella prepared herself to face the explosion of wrath she was sure must follow. She was not disappointed. When he turned to face her, leaning back against the door as though he needed its solid strength to remain upright, fury blazed from his eyes.
XXXVIII
“Where the bloody hell have you been?”
“Don’t you swear at me, Alec Tyron!”
His lips thinned. “I’ll swear if I bloody well want to. You step outside for a quick chat with the bloody sawbones and you vanish for near three-quarters of an hour! I’ve been out of my mind with worry! Do you realize the kind of place this is? The kind of man John Ball is? Hell, if I hadn’t heard you at the door, there’s no telling what he might have done to you! You’re not amongst the bloody nobility here, you know.”
“But you did hear me, so no harm’s done, is there?” She was determined to make light of the incident. “Shouldn’t you be in bed? Dr. McIver left some medicine for you to take.”
“Devil take Dr. McIver, and his bloody medicine! I want to know where you’ve been, and how you came to encounter Ball!”
“Get in bed, and take your medicine like a good boy, and perhaps I’ll tell you.”
She was being deliberately annoying, she knew, but felt he deserved it for his language, to say nothing of his bad temper.
“Isabella …” Alec sounded as if her name was forced out through gritted teeth. His eyes flashed pure temper. But what smote her was his obvious weakness as he leaned back against the door. She had not meant to worry him, nor anger him, nor involve him in an altercation with an uncouth stranger. He had every right to be upset with her, she admitted to herself, although she still took exception to his language.
Sighing, she surrendered her own indignation at his intemperate reception in favor of coaxing him back to bed.
“I will tell you everything, really, and very odd it was, too. But you really should lie down, and take your medicine. Please.”
“I’m not a puling infant for you to mother.”
Isabella made a face at him, and moved toward the bed. She fluffed his pillow and smoothed the sheets, speaking to him over her shoulder.
“You’re acting like an infant, so you mustn’t blame me if I treat you like one.”
She turned to face him, standing beside the bed with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Get into bed, Alec, or I’ll be forced to take stern measures.”
Despite his annoyance, that coaxed the beginnings of a smile from him. “You’re frightening me to death.”
“I should be. I’ll have you know that I can be very stem indeed.” Encouraged by his smile, she returned it.
“I remember all too well.” He reached up to touch his right eye, which still bore the faintest trace of a bruise.
Disconcerted, Isabella felt herself blush at the reminder of the blow she had dealt him, and all that had gone before it, on the never-to-be-forgotten night at the Carousel.
“If you want us to have any chance at all of getting on, you won’t remind me of—that.” Her tone was constricted. Then she noticed how he still leaned against the door, and how pale he was below the bandage that the doctor had replaced. Her embarrassment vanished, and impatience with his foolishness appeared in its stead.
“Stop being such a wantwit, Alec, and get into bed.”
When he still stood there, watching her without moving, she gave a disgusted exclamation and marched across the room to catch him by his ear as she would have a recalcitrant schoolboy.
“Hey!” He looked startled, but stood his ground. “And just what do you think you’re doing, miss?”
“Putting you to bed.”
“Indeed?”
“Indeed.”
Still not appreciating his danger, he didn’t move. She tugged. He yelped.
“Ow! You’re hurting me!”
“I meant to. Come on.”
She tugged again, harder. This time he allowed her to pull him across the room and push him down on the bed. When he was seated, she released his ear with a nod of satisfaction. Alec rubbed his abused ear with a pained grimace.
“You’re a cruel woman, Countess.”
“Only when I encounter foolish, stubborn men who don’t know what’s good for them.”
The medicine the doctor had given her was still tucked in her sash. She pulled it out, set the vial down and, reaching for an unused glass from the supper tray that still sat on the bedside table, poured a large dose of milky liquid into it from the bottle.
“Drink this.” She held the glass out to him. He looked at it with loathing.
“Can we talk about this?”
“No!”
“I was afraid of that.”
He took the glass, grimaced, and drank. When he had drained the contents, he made another face, more horrible than the first, and handed the glass back to her.
“Satisfied now, harpy? Then tell me how you managed to run into Ball.”
“Get into bed first.”
Alec gave her a fulminating look, but other than that, didn’t argue. She suspected he was feeling weaker than he liked to admit, even to her. When he was comfortably arranged, his long legs still clad in the breeches he refused to remove—in case of emergency he didn’t want to be caught buck naked, he said—stretched beneath the coverlet, his head propped up by pillows, she rewarded him with a wide smile.
“I warn you, if you don’t quit beaming at me in that annoying way, I won’t be responsible
for my actions.”
“My, we are ill-tempered, aren’t we? Why don’t you take a little nap? We can talk later.”
His brows snapped together, and he looked as dangerous as it was possible for a man to look all tucked up cozily in bed with a bandage around his head.
“Damn it, Isabella, stop treating me like a child and tell me about Ball!”
There was fire in his eye. Isabella, seeing it, perched meekly on the edge of the mattress.
“He was in the taproom. He saw me and followed me upstairs. He seemed to think he knew me from somewhere.”
“What the bloody hell were you doing in the taproom?” It was almost a shout.
“Don’t swear, Alec,” she protested automatically, clasping her hands in her lap and looking at him reprovingly. “If you must know, I went to the taproom to send a message to Paddy.”
“You did what?” The question was explosive.
“I sent a message to Paddy. Before I left, he asked me to let him know if I thought you needed his help. I do.”
There was a pause. His eyes measured her. She looked guilelessly back at him. The deed was done. There was no way he could change it.
“Taking quite a lot on yourself, aren’t you, Countess?”
“ ’Tis your hide I’m thinking of, not mine. That man meant to kill you today.”
“He’s not the first.”
“One of them just may succeed.”
“Anything’s possible.” He shrugged. “But not too bloody likely. I’m harder to kill than a cockroach. Well, I don’t say I would have sent for Paddy—I don’t need a bloody nanny dogging my every step—but I don’t fault you for it, under the circumstances. Let’s get back to Ball. Tell me everything he said to you. Exactly.”
Isabella complied to the best of her ability.
“So he thought he’d seen you before, hmmm? Where could he have seen you? You’ve never before been to London, and Ball rarely leaves it.”
“Who is he?”
“A London sewer rat. Lower than that. Hell do anything—and I mean anything—for a price. Take you, for instance. He’d sell you to an abbess quicker than you could blink, given half the chance. A real to-the-manor-born lady would fetch a fine price on the market, and he’d know it.”
“He’d sell me?” Isabella breathed, half-fascinated, half-horrified.
“After he was through with you himself, of course. He’d enjoy forcing himself on you, making you scream.”
“You’re trying to frighten me!”
“I’m telling you God’s honest truth, my girl. Christ, you’re such a baby you’re not safe to be let out.” He shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again to fix them on her. “You’re not to leave this room again without me with you, do you understand? Not for anything.”
“But Alec—”
“Do you understand?” His voice was fierce. “Listen to me, Isabella. Ball’s a danger, but he’s not the only one. The majority of those men out there wouldn’t think twice about pushing you over on your backside and having their way with you, scream you ever so loudly. God knows what else they might do to you. These blokes are scum, most of them, and they’ll harm you without a second thought. There are no gentlemen amongst them. Believe me, I know. I was—am—one of them.”
“You didn’t harm me, when you could have.”
“I would have let Parren kill you if he hadn’t taken the job under the table. The fact that your life was saved in the process of protecting my turf was just bloody coincidence.” The words were brutal.
“You’re not nearly as black as you paint yourself, Alec Tyron. And I’d be willing to wager that most of these men are not as evil as you’d have me think, either. After all, people are people, whether they’re rich or poor.”
Alec made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a groan. “ ’Tis clear you’ve led a sheltered life, love. Trust me on this, will you? I want your word that you won’t leave this room without me.”
“But—”
“Your word, Isabella.” He was implacable. Looking at him, she had to acknowledge that he must know what he was talking about. She had felt uncomfortable in the taproom, and John Ball had frightened her.
She nodded. “Very well, I give you my word.”
“That’s a smart girl. God, my head hurts! If that medicine of yours is supposed to ease the pain, it’s not working.”
“You should try being quiet. It might perform wonders.”
“You’ve a sassy mouth on you, Countess.” He was looking at her narrow-eyed, though a slight smile lurked around the corners of his mouth. She smiled at him, and swept loosened tendrils of hair from her face.
“A sassy, beautiful mouth,” he went on, his eyes fixed on the feature he praised. “I don’t suppose I could interest you in kissing the pain away?”
“Alec …”It was part protest, part warning.
“I thought not. Well, there’s no harm in asking, is there?”
Uncomfortable at the turn the conversation had taken, Isabella sought to change the subject. “I feel like I’m carrying around more dirt than a garden. Do you suppose this place runs to a bath?”
The lurking smile on Alec’s face widened. “You are a mess, love, but a very fetching one. Pray feel free to order a bath. I doubt that it’s a request they get very often here, but I’m sure Hull will do his best to accommodate you.”
His grin was devilish, and Isabella suddenly deduced the reason for his amusement. Of course, they were sharing a room. If she were to bathe, he would get an eyeful. It might be possible for her to rig up some sort of screen, but the very idea of disrobing in the same room with Alec made her nerves tingle. Better by far to wait until she had some privacy.
“On second thought, I think I’ll make do with the water in the pitcher,” she said primly.
“You disappoint me,” he murmured, and yawned. “Christ, I feel peculiar.”
“Peculiar? In what way?”
He yawned again, hugely this time. “My head’s spinning, and my eyelids feel like they’ve been weighted down with coins. The pain in my head’s better, but this feeling is worse. I feel like I’ve been drugged.”
Isabella stared at him. His eyelids were drooping, and he tried to suppress another yawn without success. A hideous thought occurred to her. Had the medicine been poison? Under the circumstances, the notion was not as outlandish as it seemed. Danger could lurk anywhere.
She almost ran to the bedside table, snatched up the bottle, unscrewed the lid and sniffed.
“Wh … what is it?” His voice was slightly slurred.
“ ’Tis naught but laudanum,” she said in relief.
“Laudanum!” His eyes flew open and he cursed viciously.
“It won’t hurt you.”
“Won’t hurt—” He ground his teeth. “Isabella, don’t open the door to anyone—not anyone!—but Paddy when he comes. If someone tries to enter, warn him off; then if he keeps coming, shoot him with the pistol here. Shoot to kill. Do you know how? Just point it, pull back the hammer, and pull the trigger. Do not open the door for Hull, or his wife, or anyone except Paddy, do you understand? We’ll take no chances until I’m functional again.”
His fierceness was momentarily staving off the effects of the laudanum.
Isabella looked from him to the pistols in growing horror.
“You don’t think Dr. McIver is in on it, do you? How could he be? He didn’t even know who you are.”
“I doubt it. ’Tis hard to say. But ’tis best to trust no one. Not anyone, Isabella. Christ, I feel like I’m swimming through a thick mist! Don’t trust anyone, do you hear?”
His eyelids were drooping. Isabella looked down at him with a dreadful sense of being caught in a nightmare. Could Dr. McIver be evil enough to have deliberately poisoned him?
XXXIX
Isabella spent that night in a chair beside the bed. With Alec deep in a drugged sleep, she refused to lie down for fear that she, too, might fall asleep. In the event, s
he dozed off in the chair sometime in the wee hours of the morning, only to be startled awake by a sound that she could not at first identify.
Her first thought was of Alec, Blinking, lifting the hair from her eyes, she sat up and checked him. He was still deeply asleep, his breathing quiet and rhythmic. If he had stirred since she had last looked at him, she couldn’t tell it.
The sound came again. Heart speeding up, Isabella slowly turned her eyes in the direction from whence it had come.
Slowly, very slowly, the doorknob moved as she stared at it, horrified. A soft creak accompanied the movement. That must have been the sound she had heard.
Someone was trying to get into the room.
Her heart was pounding so furiously she could feel the blood drumming against her eardrums. Her mouth went dry. She licked her lips, trying to put some moisture back into them as she watched the knob turn slowly in the other direction. The knob stopped moving. The door shuddered slightly as if someone was pushing against it from the outside.
“Alec!” Isabella whispered urgently, rising from the chair and leaning over him to shake him. “Alec, wake up! Please!”
His breath caught, was released in a gentle snore. His head turned on the pillow.
“Alec!” Instinct warned her to be as quiet as possible as she tried frantically to rouse him. She kept a frightened eye on the door. No sound, no movement. Save for the soft rasp of Alec’s breathing, and her own frantic whispers, the night was as quiet as the grave.
Someone was out there, listening. She knew it as well as she knew anything.
Suddenly it came to her why her instinct had warned her to try to rouse Alec in silence. If whoever was on the other side of the door realized that he had only her to contend with, his efforts to get into the room might be significantly bolder.
Or did he know? Had Dr. McIver been in cahoots with the assassin? Was it Tim Hull? Would a scream bring help? Or would it cause whoever was listening on the other side of the door to abandon all attempts at subterfuge, break through the door, and murder herself and Alec without further ado?
Alec would not be roused. He continued to sleep heavily, drugged by the laudanum. If someone was to get to him now, he would be slain without so much as a whimper of protest.
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