“Here, sit down, before you fall down.”
He did as she requested and reached to remove his boots. He did his best to ignore the careful way she undressed him. He unbuttoned the gown she wore. If his head didn’t ache, if his legs weren’t weak and shaky, if his arms didn’t feel as if they each weighed fifty pounds, he would have pressed her against the wall and made love to her. It was a repeat of the night before, only now she wasn’t wearing those strange underclothes. She was wearing different covered ones—purple bottoms and a beige top. Both still sexy as hell. He helped her remove them, giving little attention to the strange hooks that held the top corset thing wrapped around her. While he was certain he wasn’t up to making love to her—hell, he could hardly keep himself upright, much less stand and make love—he was certainly eager to kiss her.
She tasted of mint and honey. She tasted of all that was good. And if kissing her was all he got, he’d take it gladly. So as the water cascaded over them, as his caress washed away the smudge on her face, he kissed her. Again. And again. And again.
When the hot water tub was empty, he rested in the chair. She dried him, he dried her. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Long, perfect legs, even though she wasn’t overly tall, flat stomach, beautiful breasts. Her lips were pink and swollen from his kisses. Her eyes were bright. Her cheeks rosy with need and desire.
A drop of water slowly made its way down her throat. As she leaned over to him to dry the back of his shoulder, he removed it with his tongue. She giggled and shivered, then she wrapped herself up in one of his drying cloths. “Wait here. I have something more for your head.”
“Grab my robe before you go.” She gave him the soft jacket he kept on a nail behind the bathing room door.
Carefully, with as little movement as possible, he put on the robe.
She returned wearing his mother’s robe and again carrying that box marked FIRST AID. He watched as she tore open a labeled paper package that revealed a tan colored square. “What is that?”
“Just a bandage with an adhesive on it to keep in place. The ointment I put on before kept the water out of your wound, but we should still cover it. This will work better than wrapping your entire head.”
He watched her peel away more paper. He picked up the half of square paper she dropped. It felt slick, nothing like any paper he ever seen or felt. He reached for the tan square she carefully held, but she held it out of his reach. “No, if you touch it a lot, it won’t stick as well. Just let me…”
She placed it over his injury and it remained there. Carefully, he reached up and touched it, feeling the softness of padding. The strange bandage protected his wound and it didn’t throb so much.
“How’s that feel?”
“Better. I want to see it.” He took her hand and forced himself to his feet before he moved to the mirror and touched the bandage again, staring at his reflection. “Will it stay on there forever?”
She laughed lightly. “No. You can peel it off any time you want, but it won’t stick as well once you do. And you really shouldn’t take it off and put it back on. It’s sterile when I take from the package. Once you take it off, it’s considered dirty and you have a greater chance of infection.” She fingered his hair. He liked the touch of her fingers in his hair. “And this nice little wave covers it.”
“Sterile?”
“Free of the bacteria that can cause infection.”
“Oh. And this is something used in the twenty-first century?”
“You betcha. Used every day by mothers of kids with skinned knees.”
She leaned over his shoulder and shared his reflection in the mirror.
He met her gaze. Dear Lord, he couldn’t stop looking at her. Last night with her had been a dream come true. In all of his visits to Miss Sue Ellen’s, he’d never known such bliss, such…
…a feeling of completeness.
And he hadn’t done anything more than hold her. Amazing.
He wished to hell he didn’t feel so weak.
“Let me help you back up to bed and I can bring you something to eat,” she offered.
“No.” He didn’t mean to sound so stern with her. “I promised myself after the fever, I’d never again take another meal in my bed, and I meant it. We can eat in the dining room. Then you can help me upstairs. As long as I’m sitting, I’m all right.”
He thought she’d argue with that, but she didn’t. She just held on to him as he made his way into his seat at the head of the table. She then brought in two bowls of steaming soup.
While he meant what he said about not taking a meal in his bed, he didn’t admit how good the sheets felt once he climbed between them a short time later.
Of course, having Clare’s naked body fit against him like a spoon in the drawer was damned nice, too.
Chapter Eleven
From across the breakfast table, Clare smiled at him. Her cheeks were rosy, her lips perfect and lovely and still swollen from his kisses the night before. Yes, he certainly wished for more. He’d kissed her well into the early morning. And again, she fell asleep in his arms. While he didn’t wish for another knock on the head, he did wish for more nights under his waterfall like last night, and more morning after breakfasts like this.
When she’d chosen to dress in her own clothes instead of another of his mother’s gowns, he had said nothing. Truth be told, the deep blue sweater she wore this morning put a strange hint of blue into her dark eyes that reminded him of the ocean at twilight. He could easily get lost staring into them. He didn’t mind drowning in them.
“How’s your head feeling?” she asked.
“Much better, thanks to you. It hardly aches at all.”
“Good.”
Gerard brought a message into the dining room and presented it to Liam. “This was delivered early this morning, Master Liam.”
“Thank you, Gerard.” Liam tore it open without hesitation. “Wonderful. Either the judge took pity on my accident or he agreed with my proposal. Either way, he released my defendants yesterday afternoon, and they are back at their hotel. I’ll visit with them later.”
“Perhaps I’ll go with you,” Clare announced with a smile.
He read a few more lines of the message then met her gaze. “I’ll think on that.” Still studying her, he placed the document on the table next to him. “But I have other plans for you. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to summon Miss Weatherby this morning.”
“Why would I mind? You can summon whomever you like. This is obviously your house as much as it is mine. Oh, I guess I shouldn’t say that so loud. If Millie and Gerard hear, it might raise questions.”
“Do not fret over Gerard and Millie, they understand how to keep the secrets of my home.”
“Do you think they’ll say anything about my wearing jeans?”
“Is that what you call those men’s trousers?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And just so you know, we can discuss anything you like, but this is my house.” Secretly, he was glad Gerard hadn’t seen what Clare wore. Her pants-covered legs were hidden under the table by the time she said good morning to Gerard.
Her smile had a teasing air to it. “Think whatever you want. So who is Miss Weatherby?”
“A seamstress. While I’m certain my mother wouldn’t mind if you wore her gowns, I think you should have your own. I believe Miss Weatherby created all the dresses worn at my dinner party.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have money, at least nothing that would be accepted here, unless Miss Weatherby accepts American Express.”
“My offer. My gift. But what is American Express?”
“Thank you. That’s very kind. It’s a line of credit.” Clare took a bite of breakfast.
“You don’t need it here. And a few gowns as a gift is the least I can do you after you saved my life, don’t you think?”
“The truth is I don’t really know what to think. This entire situation is so extraordinary. I feel like this is where I shoul
d be, although I have no idea how I came to be here or why I should feel that way.”
Liam said nothing of his dream of her with the doctor, and her parents and brothers.
He covered her hand with his while they ate ham, eggs, grits, biscuits and gravy. “You know, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a woman eat like you.”
She blinked at him. Twice. Before she replied, “Oh, and how is that?”
“Well, you really eat, not gluttonous or ill-mannered. But you eat. Most ladies pick at their food and just nibble and act like it’s something that’s forced on them, but you seem to enjoy it.”
Her smile was genuine. “I do enjoy it. I especially enjoy it when it’s delicious, as all of Millie’s cooking has been. And I feel like I’ve been hungry since I got here, so this is all extra good.” As if she needed to prove it to him, she took a big bite of her biscuit covered with milk gravy. “And this gravy is succulent, obviously made with fresh cream.”
“What else would you use to make it?”
“That’s a good question.” She took another bite.
While he trusted Gerard and Millie to keep his secrets, he didn’t see the need to raise their suspicions. So to keep them from overhearing, he leaned closer and softly asked, “You speak your mind. You don’t hesitate to do what fancies you. Are all twenty-first century women as fearless as you?”
“I suppose there are women who are afraid, but if I allowed my fears to rule my actions, I’d still be in my bedroom, hiding, not experiencing anything.”
He wondered if she was referring to her attack. Knowing it had to be a horrid subject for her, he changed it. “What would you care to do today after Miss Weatherby takes your measurements?”
“You should rest another day, so we could stay here together, and I could play piano for you. Or you could teach me some of the games you play here.”
The chimes over the door rang. He heard Gerard’s footsteps as he moved to answer it.
“Perhaps I should hide upstairs,” Clare suggested.
“Don’t be silly.” After last night, he planned to show her off. To everyone. Every day.
And he hadn’t asked, but he planned to marry her as soon as possible. Today if he could convince her.
Oliver’s voice rumbled through the house from the hall. “Camden. Where in bloody hell are you?”
Gerard’s words were lost in Oliver’s. “Get out of my way. I’ll have my say!”
Less than two seconds later, Oliver barged into the dining room.
Gerard followed him looking flustered.
“It’s all right, Gerard. If I need you to call one of the Guard to have Oliver removed, I’ll let you know.”
After a moment of hesitation, Gerard headed to the kitchen.
Liam still held Clare’s hand at the corner of the table. He felt her tense. He tightened his grasp to keep her in her place.
“Good morning, Oliver. After yesterday afternoon, I daresay I didn’t expect you back. Would you care for some breakfast?”
“No, I don’t want any breakfast. I came to see if you’ve improved after yesterday’s head injury. I’m sure it was that injury that has you taking your game of the other night to such extremes and breaking Evelyn’s heart.”
“I promise you, I’m playing no game. I didn’t want to keep Evelyn’s hopes hanging by a thread when I have no feelings for her. And Clare—” He had every intention of introducing Clare to Oliver, but Oliver’s next words reminded him of the situation, no matter what he’d shared with Clare all the previous night.
“Clare? Please Liam, stop this game, unless you’ve gone mad. Did you plan to take your insanity to the point where you even set another place at your table? Good God Almighty. You’re worse off than I thought.”
“You can’t see her?” Liam asked calmly.
Oliver sat down in the chair opposite Clare and softened his voice, speaking to Liam as if he spoke to a child. “Of course I can’t see her. She’s obviously nothing more than a figment you’ve created.”
“Perhaps it’s best that he doesn’t,” Clare said.
Liam squeezed her hand.
“Why would I?” Oliver asked. “There’s no one there. If this continues, I’ll be forced to write to your parents, tell them you’ve lost your mind.”
“Have you talked to Ben? He’s seen and talked to Clare.” Liam could feel Clare’s pulse on her wrist. Her heart raced. He gently rubbed her skin with his thumb, wishing he could calm her. “And so has Penelope.”
“Benford’s as daft as you. And I know how close he is to you. The two of you are closer than brothers and thicker than thieves. He would lie and say he saw Blackbeard if you told him to. And as for Penelope, she obviously fancies you and would say whatever you asked her to say.”
“Ben’s not daft, and neither am I. And Penny would never lie, so don’t try and make her into a liar while you are under my roof.”
“Evelyn has spent the entire night crying. It wasn’t fair of you to break her heart as you did.”
“It wasn’t fair of you and all the others to make something more of my relationship with her where none existed. All I did last night was make that clear.”
“She had her heart set on marrying you, Liam, on being your wife.”
“And she spent the night crying?” Clare asked. “I’d have to see that to believe it. I can see her throwing things, breaking dishes, smashing a chair or two. But shedding any tears? Nope.”
“And I apologized to her last night for that insinuation, even though I wasn’t the one who created it.”
“But you never stopped it, did you?” Oliver demanded.
“He has a point,” Clare sighed.
“You’re right, Oliver. I should have placed her in your chair the other night and had Penelope sit next to me.”
Oliver took a heavy breath and scratched his head.
“Watch it,” Clare warned. “He’s switching gears. He’ll try a new tactic. I would take a drink of my tea. Seeing the cup move when he can’t see me might blow him out of the water. And you know what? I think he’s rather smelly. You should let him use your shower, or help him install one of his own in his house.”
Liam took a deep breath and bit his bottom lip to keep from chuckling. Damn but her to-the-point words were refreshing.
“I’m just worried about you, Liam. You haven’t been yourself since you were ill. Perhaps you should be back in bed for a while. You could even come and stay at our home for a few days, let my sister care for you.”
“There is something really odd between the two of them. I just can’t put my finger on it. I have two brothers, and we do not act like them. Maybe I should touch him so he can see me.”
“No,” Liam answered them both, amazed at how good he was getting at this.
“I could go up and change,” Clare suggested.
“No,” Liam said again, as if he was still answering Oliver. “I’m so sorry to have hurt Evelyn’s feelings, but I needed to set her free to find someone who would truly appreciate her.”
“Fat chance of that happening,” Clare said.
“I can see the lump on your forehead from here. And what is that strange covering you have over it?”
“It’s a new kind of bandage.”
“Would you please appease me and rest for another day. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll be back to your usual self.”
“I hate to disappoint you, Oliver, but I’m certain what you see here is what you get. Now if you don’t care to share breakfast, would you care to leave me in peace so I may enjoy mine?”
With a frustrated huff, Oliver scooted his chair back loudly and left. The front door slammed a moment later, and he was gone.
Liam let the silence settle over the room for a moment before he asked, “Do you still think it was Oliver who wanted to kill me? I mean, he may wish to now that I’ve broken Evelyn’s heart; however, before he wanted me to marry her. I doubt he wanted to kill me before then.”
“I see your point.” She too
k a bite of sausage. “But I do have a question for you. What benefits would either of them gain by you marrying her?”
He thought about it for a long moment. “I would gain. Her father also has a law firm, a very large one with fingers that reach up and down the coast. My future would be set if I married her and joined his firm.”
“What about them? What would they get, aside from just having you in the family?”
He shrugged, not thinking of a thing. “They have money. They have a house here and in New York. They have a respected family name. Neither of them really need anything from me.”
“There is just something odd about both of them that rubs me the wrong way. I’m not saying Evelyn couldn’t love you. After all, you’re pretty hot.”
“Hot?”
“I guess the word here would be dashing. But I hate to point it out to you that she didn’t seem any more interested in you than she did the gumbo or the plates, except to go for a walk with you where others could see you together.”
He met her gaze. “What about you, dear Clare? Am I more interesting than food and dinnerware?”
“Ah, the gumbo was delicious and the plates truly are lovely, but I have to confess, I am more interested in you. And while I would at some time like to see the city, I don’t care to walk anywhere in this damp weather. I’d rather keep you inside here all to myself.”
“That sounds like a marvelous idea. But why would you want to touch them? Just so they might see you?” He took a sip of tea.
“When did I say I wanted to touch them?”
“When you said you couldn’t put your finger on them.”
“Oh, that’s just a figure of speech. I can’t see the answer to my questions. I can’t figure out what bothers me about them.”
“I see. Have I told you how much I love your way with words and that you say whatever is on your mind?”
“I like listening to you, too. I could listen to you all day. I bet you’d be great at a poetry reading.”
“I would be glad to read poetry to you anytime.”
She offered him a grin that melted through to his heart, then took another huge bite of her biscuit. “Mmmm… No preservatives, no artificial ingredients.”
Camden Place: The Haunted Book Three Page 12
