“Do you think between us can get this hulk of man up the stairs? I want him here for at least two or three nights, or until we are sure he has no fever.”
Between them all they managed well enough, with Lance reviving enough to help but not enough to protest. Jackson divested him of the remainder of his outer garments and put him to bed in his underwear. He wore only the underpants, leaving his chest bare except for the bandages. Since Jackson’s nightclothes would be much too small there was little choice. Morgan smiled to see Lance half-conscious, or else he’d be having a tantrum at his semi-nudity. Morgan and her mother tucked him in and then Viviane turned to her daughter.
“Love, I’ll leave you to care for our large friend. You should stay with him tonight and keep checking for a fever. I think the knife went very deep and a fever will not surprise me. If he gets too hot you might try sponging him down with cold water. I think he’ll be fine, but in case that wicked knife was not clean there could be complications. Check him hourly and send to the Commissioner’s house if you need me. I’m going to Devon’s now. I have unfinished business with the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police Force. I’ll be back in the morning.”
With a wide smile, Viviane kissed her dumbstruck daughter and swept from the room.
Morgan stared after her. Her mother, leaving her alone in the house to care for a virile, handsome man like the Chief Inspector? And going to the Commissioner’s house to spend the night?
She understood not at all what her mother could be thinking. She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to Lance. Her cheeks flamed as she looked at him lounging against the pillows, his perfect body delightfully exposed. She’d be most pleased to spend the night taking care of Lord Lance Dellafield.
Conscious or unconscious, he was the man she now knew she loved.
* * * * *
Viviane had been well on her way back to London when her mind flashed a strong alarm of Morgan’s danger. A few days before she’d acknowledged she’d not been fair to Devon. Her feelings for him were so powerful she knew she must either accept him or never see him again. It wasn’t fair to refuse to talk to him, as she’d done at her home in the country. She came back in London to set things straight and in the process at least come to know her own mind.
Besides, she yearned to see him.
The fact her daughter had been in such peril and she’d been able to help reinforced the rightness of her decision to return to London. Morgan was safe and now she could concentrate on her own affairs. As she left her townhouse, she asked Jackson to get a message to the Commissioner she was on her way to his home and to call her a hansom. For such a short ride she would have much preferred to walk, but even a Druid priestess was not immune to London’s night stalkers.
* * * * *
Millson admitted Viviane, as big a smile on his face as she’d ever seen him permit himself. Still he spoke in his formal butler’s manner.
“You are welcome, madam. Shall I tell Master Jamie? He’ll be delighted, as you know.”
She brushed her hair off her face where it had crept as she’d swept off her hat and took a deep breath.
“Yes, do, Millson. It’s very good to see you.”
His façade cracked a little. “And good to see you, madam. Very good indeed.”
He hurried away and quite soon a whirlwind of a boy burst into the room and threw himself into her arms.
“Mama Viviane! I’m sooo glad you’re back.”
She hugged him as hard as he hugged her, kissing his cheek and forehead.
“So I have a new name, do I? You’ve never called me that before.”
Jamie colored and hung his head, then flung it upright. “That’s how I think of you. Was it very bad of me to say it out loud?”
“No, darling, not bad at all. Let’s sit and talk ’til your papa comes home. I think he’ll be here shortly.”
“Yes, he often comes home early nowadays. He told me he’s winding down. Do you know what that means?” A puzzled frown creased his forehead, as Jamie cuddled closer on the sofa.
“I hope I do.” Viviane’s smile grew broader as she hugged the small boy again.
The front door opened and shut with a bang, as Devon burst into the room, stopping short when he spied Viviane and his son.
“You two make the loveliest sight I’ve seen in weeks,” he said, dropping kisses on both their foreheads. If Viviane’s kiss lingered longer than Jamie’s nobody seemed to mind.
“I’m very glad to be here, Devon,” she said, covering his hand on her shoulder with her own.
He looked at her with such love she colored. Not wanting him to take the blame for Jamie’s dismissal, she turned to the boy.
“Your father and I have many matters to discuss, Jamie. Will you excuse us if we go into his study?”
“I ‘spec you want to be alone.” His boyish grin made even Viviane laugh.
Giving both of them a kiss, Jamie smiled and left. Millson was waiting for him and Viviane suspected he would stay with the child and entertain him for as long as needed.
Devon took her hand and tucked it into the fold of his arm as they walked to his study. The minute he closed the door behind them, he turned to her.
“Dare I hope you have favorable news for me, my love? I know the killer has been caught and Lance is wounded but not seriously and is at your home with Morgan. What Shriver didn’t disclose, Jackson told me when he enclosed a note with yours.”
“I’m definitely coming round, Devon, but I’m not quite there yet. Give me just a moment to formulate my thoughts.”
Devon pulled her onto a small sofa and sat beside her, putting his arm around her shoulder. His smile beamed as she sighed and laid her head against his arm and took one of his hands in hers. She’d never initiated such an intimate act before.
“I want you in my life, Devon, but I’m still frightened. May I spend the night in your bed?”
He started to grab her and then stopped. “There is nothing I’d like better, my love, but I need to understand your thinking. Does this mean you’ll marry me, tomorrow if possible?”
She couldn’t bring herself to face him directly. Twisting her hands together, she took a deep breath.
“Not exactly, Devon. I mean to try my best, but if I disappoint you tonight, then I’d like you to let me stay here and look after you and Jamie. You wouldn’t be obliged to marry me.”
The arm lifted from her shoulders as Devon bolted to his feet and planted himself directly in front of her. There was a prolonged silence, until Viviane forced herself to raise her eyes from his boots. She found his eyes blazing at her. She’d never seen him so angry before and a little thrill shot through her. No wonder he was such a success in whatever business role he attempted. He probably scared his rivals to death. His face was stern and set, his eyes cold behind their anger, one intimidating male as he directed his fury straight at her.
“Do you have any idea of how much you’ve just insulted me, madam?”
She hadn’t suspected his voice could be so icy. Not with her.
She shook her head, dismayed at the resentment radiating from his every inch. “I didn’t mean what I said as an insult,” she whispered. “I thought you’d be pleased.”
“Pleased? Pleased at your suggestion I treat you like a whore? Pleased at having my sexual prowess somehow construed as the index of your affection? Pleased that you think your sexual prowess is the index of my affection? Think again, madam. I am far from pleased.”
She gave a small laugh. “Yes, I can see how pleased you are. Please forgive me, Devon. I had no idea you’d take my words this way. I want to marry you, I’m just so frightened I will disappoint you and you’ll be trapped in a marriage that’s a disaster for us both.”
She stopped and when his face still looked black, tried again to explain her viewpoint. “For I’ll know if I’ve failed to satisfy you and will be as miserable as you. I see no way out if you reject my suggestion.”
She wrung her hands tog
ether and then whispered, “I’m positive I won’t satisfy you in bed.”
He stared at her for a long moment and the anger in his face gradually relaxed until she found herself gazing at the loving man she knew.
“I see plenty of room for negotiation here. Come to me, Viviane. Let me try a little convincing.”
She slowly rose, but didn’t move. Her fright was plain to see and Devon took the last few steps to her and gently folded her in his arms.
“How long did your encounter with that damned Druid priest last?”
He tipped her face up to his and she was sure her astonishment showed. She’d expected him to grab at her. And what did his question matter after all this time?
She relaxed a little as his hold remained loose. “Oh, not long. Five to ten minutes. But I must tell you I hated it.”
A shudder she could not help ran through her body.
Devon’s arms tightened just a little.
“Viviane, listen to me carefully. You know I’ve never lied to you.”
He waited for her nod before he proceeded.
“The first time we join our bodies in love will be only after many long and leisurely minutes of me holding and caressing you. You will need much time to get used to my embrace, but hopefully, you will gradually relax in my arms. I would guess it would take about an hour before we actually unite our bodies and then only if you are ready. If you need more time, we’ll try again another night and another night after that. We will not actually come together until you tell me, tell me plainly, you desire to do so.”
Viviane knew she was staring. What was he saying? Could any man be that patient?
“Viviane, I love you. I will teach you to love me. But only within the bonds of marriage. I have a special license. Will you marry me tomorrow and give me the chance to prove my love for you doesn’t depend on how sexually proficient you are?”
He was holding her slightly away from him. No man had ever been this close to her for so long without attacking her. She knew now from Devon’s words “attacking” was just what that degenerate priest had done. She breathed a deep sigh.
There was a silence as she turned his words over in her mind and he waited, holding her loosely in the cage of his arms.
“All right, Devon. I’ll trust you in this. I do want to be near you and take care of you and Jamie.”
He grinned, a delighted yet devilish grin as he held her close, tipped her face to his and kissed her gently but firmly. She didn’t find it unpleasant at all!
“We’ll marry tomorrow. Let’s go tell Jamie.”
He drew her tenderly to him as he again kissed her. He kept his lips soft and feathered his kisses all along her jaw before returning to her mouth. She’d been racked by both love and fear when he began and now the fear seemed to be fading. To her delight her heart held only wonder as she thought of the marvelous man who was holding her so carefully. He was beyond kind, truly understanding in a way she’d thought not possible. She returned his kiss with gratitude. Soon her gratitude changed to a warm sensation that turned to fiery as it suffused her body. One she had never known. Her whole being felt hot and yet shivery. She liked his kissing and when he nudged her lips with his tongue, she started and then opened them.
Amazing! He actually put his tongue inside her mouth, taking his time, tasting her as if she were some sort of luscious dessert! To her infinite surprise she liked this also. When he withdrew and looked down at her with a smile, she tugged at his coat lapels to pull him back.
His smile grew even broader.
“I don’t think you have a thing to worry about, my love. You have depths of untouched passion I’ll teach you to discover. Our marriage will be a very good one.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, wiggling a little closer in his arms. She wasn’t paying much attention to his words. “Kiss me again, Devon.”
He laughed as he wrapped her tightly to him. “Yes, madam. Anything madam says. Then we’ll go tell Jamie.”
* * * * *
Sitting in a large armchair by Lance’s bed Morgan tried to focus on the book in her hands. If he were seriously hurt she’d never forgive herself. She never meant to pull him into danger, but somehow he’d been injured because of her.
Lance twitched on his pillows and started muttering.
“Justin, I didn’t want you hurt. I really tried to stop them.”
The rest was too low for her to catch. Who was Justin? One of his officers, perhaps. Had one of them once been injured and Lance blamed himself for some reason?
She’d risen when he started mumbling, but now he was quiet again and she sat back down. She stared at the same page for a long time. Lance usurped every one of her thoughts. His extreme bravery as he’d charged Tomlinson was unforgettable. Now he lay wounded. Her innate honesty made her admit he’d not acted simply to save her, but to catch an unusually despicable villain. Still, if he’d not found Tomlinson so close to killing her he might have used different tactics, ones not so dangerous to himself.
Again she shuddered from head to foot. It would be a long time before she could forget those maniacal eyes glaring at her. She could not afford to even think of how he would have tortured her before killing her if Lance had not arrived.
Lance was now turning his head from side to side and muttering again. She quickly put her hand on his forehead. He was warm, but she didn’t think dangerously so.
“Justin, Justin, please forgive me. I’m not worthy of forgiveness, I know. But I did try.”
Morgan didn’t want to hear any more.
“Lance, don’t fret. When you’re well you can set it straight with Justin. Just be quiet and rest.” She smoothed his forehead, trying to erase the wrinkles that were creasing his brow.
He grabbed her hand with a grip of steel. “Don’t try to stop me. I must see Justin.”
He half-lifted off the pillows and then fell back. He turned his face from her and continued to toss and mumble.
Morgan felt his forehead again. Definitely warmer than the last time she’d checked. Going to the door, she called for Jackson. She needed cloths and fresh cold water. As soon as he’d brought them she put a damp towel on Lance’s forehead. He seemed to settle, but only for a while. When he began to toss again she doubled her efforts as Jackson replenished the water again and again to keep it cool.
Hours later, she was limp from exhaustion, although she’d sent Jackson away to rest for a while. Lance still seemed far too warm to her and she perched on the edge of his bed. The moment she did so, he grabbed her.
“Are you Morgan? No, Morgan can’t be here. I don’t want her here. She would hate me if she knew how wicked I am.”
“I’m just your friend.” She smoothed the dark hair from his forehead. “Relax, my lord. No one will ever know your secrets.”
He smiled at her, a beautiful smile that tore at her heart. “Good,” he said. “I could not stand it if Morgan thought me dishonorable.”
His restlessness continued as she sat beside him, trying to make sense of his mysterious ramblings. She longed to absorb his pain and make it her own so he could have some rest. Suddenly he clutched her again. His glazed eyes looking at her but not seeming to see her.
“If you’re not Morgan, then I can ask you to lie beside me and help me forget.”
She didn’t know what to do, so she stayed silent and let him pull her down beside him on the bed.
He looked at her carefully, although his eyes were glassy with fever.
“No,” he said, “You’re not Morgan. My very proper Morgan would never lie beside me like this in a bed. She’d need to know my intentions were honorable. But how can they be when I’m not?”
He moved suddenly and groaned, wrapping her in his arms, holding her so tightly she couldn’t move even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. Lying in Lance’s arms felt as if it were the natural place to be. She held very still so she would not alert him to the fact she was Morgan.
His fingers moved to her blouse, unbutt
oning it with a rapidity that astonished her. Evidently Lord Lance was quite experienced with women’s clothing. Although she’d always known that. Right now her whole body felt alive in a way she’d never known. She hoped, fervently hoped, he didn’t come to his senses for a long while. She literally held her breath as his clever fingers moved to caress her breasts.
“You are so sweet and soft,” he said. Then his fingers moved to her nipples and began to caress them with the same expertise he’d already demonstrated.
Morgan knew she should stop him. Partly for his sake, since he could not know what he was doing. And partly for her own, for the very same reason. If Lance Dellafield ever took her to bed she wanted him to know exactly whose body he was thrilling with his knowledgeable caresses.
But she didn’t try to make him pause. His hands on her bare breasts were unbelievably enchanting. Her minor ability to work spells was nothing to his! She lay still, memorizing every delicious sensation, as he raised himself a little and put his lips where his fingers lingered a second ago, kissing her everyplace his hands wandered. She gasped as he finally placed one kiss on each nipple.
Her whole body throbbed to life with fervid sensation. She couldn’t summon the willpower to stop him, no matter where these delights led. Please let him show her more of the enchantments she found only in his arms.
Then suddenly he fell back flat on the bed.
“Forgive me, lovely one. I can’t pleasure you as you deserve. Forgive me.”
He flopped back and threw one arm over his face. Morgan lay still, mortification flooding her as she cautiously sat up. She did not want him ever to know how she ached for more.
Lance was muttering again, but all she could catch this time were the words “Justin” and “sorry”. She moved his arm from her body, noting its limpness as it fell to his side. His skin felt much too hot. He was burning up again.
Going to the door she called for Jackson and more ice and water.
“I think we’d better sponge his whole body, Jackson. He’s getting hotter by the minute and just doing his forehead doesn’t last long enough. I’ll need your help.”
Druid's Daughter Page 14
