What the Stubborn Viscount Desires

by Sandra Sookoo

  “You are injured far more severally.” Sophia shifted position onto her knees despite the fetid water. She reached out to touch his leg but he scrambled to the far side of the well and sat with more force than necessary. “Let me look at it, tend to your wound. I didn’t see anything untoward during my initial cursory examination.”

  Ah so then she still didn’t know about his false leg. “No. I am fine.” He clenched a fist and plunged it into the muck beside him.

  “You aren’t. Pain is written all over your face, and your leg is hanging at a bizarre angle.” Worry hung on her tone and reflected in her eyes.

  “Leave me alone, woman.” Even he heard the growl in his tone.

  “Why should I? I’m part of this expedition. I’ll patch you up the best I can.” She frowned and tried once more to touch his leg. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

  Jonathan forced a swallow into his suddenly dry throat. Sweat broke out on his upper lip and brow. Icy fear trickled down his spine. The moment of truth was upon him. He closed his eyes, hoping to buy time, but it was useless. “I’m not in the habit of accepting help or appearing weak,” he gritted out.

  She snorted. “Weakness is when a man would rather freeze and suffer than admit he could use assistance.”

  “Perhaps.” Finally, he was forced to face his last fear regarding her: he would have to show her his false leg and admit he wasn’t a whole man.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Why did it matter so badly that he hide that fact from her?

  Jonathan scowled across the well at the woman he’d spent nearly a month alone with. On her knees, she let the arm she’d extended drop, but her eyes reflected confusion. “Are you quite certain you wish to know the last of my secrets?”

  “Yes.” She nodded and held his gaze. “Please.”

  “Last spring I was involved in an ill-fated duel, and from wounds received that day—Archewyne’s wedding day to be precise—a portion of my leg was amputated.” With her gaze riveted on him, he extended his aching right leg as best he could and winced. “Help me with the boot.” Perhaps with her tugging, the buckle would right itself and this whole crisis could be averted.

  “All right.” She scuttled through the squalid water, and when she reached his foot, she grasped his muddy boot. To give her credit, she didn’t shy away from the mess. “Brace yourself.”

  “Do it.” He levered his back against the rough, curved stone wall of the well and steeled himself.

  Sophia tugged once, twice and then the boot came away from the false leg with a sucking sound. She poured a bit of water from it before propping it upright against the wall at her back. “What next?” She made no comment about the false wooden foot covered with a wool sock. The clever hinge at the ankle gave him greater mobility and preserved the myth he wasn’t harboring a prosthetic.

  “I’ll draw up the trouser leg. Then we need to assess any possible damage to the false leg itself as well as the hardware.”

  “I’m waiting, Trewellain.” She kept her focus on his face, her gaze steady.

  Sweat broke out along his brow. His companion would either accept him as he was or he’d see the revulsion in her eyes. “Has anyone ever told you how much of a pain in the arse you are?” At least concentrating on this task kept him from acknowledging the pain that still rocked through his head.

  Her husky laughter echoed through their prison and grabbed him by the throat. “My brothers have, many times. I’m afraid I chased them around in an effort to tag along on their adventures, even when I was old enough to know better.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” He snorted as he rolled up the wrinkled hem of his trouser leg.

  “Well, whatever they found themselves in was infinitely more exciting than sitting at home and being instructed on how to embroider with perfect stitches or attempt to paint with watercolors.” She made a face and stuck out her tongue. “When will society realize women are made of much sturdier stuff and are quite capable of doing more than sitting at home, safe behind walls, wasting time on boring pursuits such as those?”

  Ah ha. No wonder Lady Archewyne had chosen her to be Jane’s governess. As he revealed the hinged mechanism that took the place of his knee, she sucked in a breath. Once the fabric reached Jonathan’s thigh, he huffed in exasperation. One of the four buckles keeping the leg clamped to the harness around his thigh had come undone. The harness itself was also loose. “It is remarkable that if one of these carefully arranged pieces of hardware becomes misaligned, the whole damn thing hurts like the devil.”

  “How…” Her swallow was audible. “Why were you involved in a duel?”

  He worked first one of the buckles and then moved on to the next. “The story is convoluted at best.”

  “I’m coming to realize that about all your tales,” she responded in a quiet voice. “It’s part of what makes you fascinating.”

  A ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. How was it she could always cajole him into a better mood? He released the third buckle. “I was involved with the Earl of Penrose’s widow.”

  “Involved as in having an affair?” One of her eyebrows rose in question.

  “Yes.” When she sniffed, he frowned. Was she jealous? The thought caused another baby smile. “Her husband was brother to the late Duke of Litton.” When Sophia looked at him with a blank expression, he hurried on. It would seem in her previous life of plotting revenge against him in the country, she hadn’t kept abreast of society pages or their scandals. Thank the lord for small miracles. None of the gossip about him would affect her opinion. “Suffice it to say that Lavinia’s relationship with me was a secret known only to us and Litton’s wife. Consequently, the duke assumed I was carrying on an affair with the duchess.”

  “And for the love of your countess, you went along with the farce,” she finished for him.

  “Yes.” Damn, but the woman was uncannily good at delving into the secrets he didn’t reveal. “He challenged me to a duel, which I assumed he’d call off, for I was an infinitely better shot than he.” He released the final buckle but was reluctant to remove the leg.

  “He wanted you dead, or at least maimed, so of course he went through with it. No doubt he wished to teach you a lesson.” She met his gaze and nodded. “You are not with your love.”

  “No.” He moved his fingers to the leather straps of the harness around his thigh. “Lavinia died during a particularly gruesome face off at the end of a mission wherein everyone there nearly died.” Jonathan shook his head. Yes, too convoluted to explain. Even so, the pain he always carried for the countess ached through his heart. “Suffice it to say, Lady Archewyne was in peril. Miles went after her and her assailant. I was left with the duke. He’d senselessly strangled the life from Lavinia, to keep her from me, for she’d refused to go along with a horrible plan he had for her.” Memories of that vile night assailed him. He could almost smell the rain-drenched earth, the gunpowder in the air, the metallic scent of blood. “I shot him dead, but it didn’t bring her back. I couldn’t protect her as I’d promised.” His voice caught on the last word. He fought for control, for he would not cry. He had yet to shed a tear for anything in his life, and he refused to start now.

  “Did she know that you loved her?”

  The question caught him by surprise, and he focused his gaze on her face. Sophia peered back at him waiting with expectation. His chest tightened along with his throat. “I never had the opportunity to tell her in actual words, but I showed her the extent of my regard. I…” He panted against the incoming tide of memories, of pain, of guilt. “The jewelry I loaned you the night of the ball… I’d planned to give to her and tell her of my love. I was never given the chance.”

  “Oh Jonathan.” His companion pressed her fingers to her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, yet you let me wear something quite special to you…”

  “Yes, and I don’t regret it.” Remembering how those blue stones sparkled against Sophia’s pale skin burned bright in his memory. �
�It was the right thing to do. Lavinia would have been pleased.” The rawness of that scraped across his heart. The countess had only wanted him happy. He tamped down on the urge to give into tears even as they crowded his throat.

  I will not break down in front of this woman.

  Sophia clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “All of what you’d planned, what you’d done, is wonderful, of course, yet Lavinia would have cherished the words more, I think. Any woman would.” Sophia moved closed to him, batted his hands away from the remaining hardware. “Regardless, I’m certain she knew how you felt and that she returned your love.” She dropped her gaze to his cravat. “The countess was fortunate to know you that way.”

  “Thank you.” As much as he missed Lavinia, having Sophia with him on this adventure tempered the pain he’d become accustomed to. Somehow, this woman had crawled beneath his skin and had thrown open the gates he’d erected around his heart, hacked through the thorny brambles he’d let grow around that organ. She’d dragged him out into the sunlight to heal. “I like to hope you are correct.” It was hell to lose someone, and it would always be so as long as he remained devoted to the Crown, and especially hard when he’d been more or less responsible.

  Tears glimmered in Sophia’s bluer than blue eyes, and her compassion and understanding gutted him. “You will always miss her, of course, but perhaps it is time to embrace what is waiting in your future. Look forward to that.”

  He scoffed. “The empty life of a king’s agent, fulfilling in some aspects, but largely lonely.”

  “That is entirely up to you. Don’t be afraid of filling the barren places of your heart again. It has suffered enough.” She gently worked the buckles. The pressure of the harness and brace eased from his thigh, and still holding his gaze, she pulled the false leg away.

  Jonathan bit off a sarcastic response. What was the point of hoping? He knew his limitations. Unable to bear what he might see in her eyes, he focused on the flickering lantern across the well. “Say something, anything.” Emotion graveled his voice. “Tell me I’m hideous, that now you know why I act the prick and keep people away.” That you cannot wait to be free of me.

  “Hush.” Sophia set the leg against the wall near his shoulder. Then she walked on her knees in the murky water to sit next to him. Wordlessly, she encouraged him to turn toward her and she urged him close enough that she took the remainder of his leg into her lap. She massaged the stiff, taut muscles while she hummed a soothing lullaby he’d last heard in his childhood.

  Despite himself, Jonathan moaned with pleasure. No one beside himself and his surgeon had touched his leg before, and the fact that she did without prompting left him stunned. The tension eased from his body and still she worked on the muscles in his thigh. He allowed himself to relax, leaned the back of his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Minutes went by as he gave himself into her care. The pounding throb lessened in his head while the ache about his heart faded somewhat. How was this possible in the mere sharing of what had been eating him from the inside out?

  “You should have told me earlier about your leg. It must have been incredibly uncomfortable this past month never removing it.” Her dulcet tones softened her reproach. “Now I know why you didn’t removed your boots in my presence.”

  “I didn’t want you to see me like this.” The words were pulled out of him, for this woman was nothing short of a witch.

  “There is nothing wrong with what you look like. Nothing damning about owning that you have a false limb. You are still every inch a virile man. Any woman who believes otherwise should be committed to Bedlam.”

  The words bolstered his confidence and banished lingering fears as much as caused his cock to harden. Yet he didn’t trust his voice.

  Her fingers were like magic upon his body. “Scars mean you’ve lived, that you continue to do so, and that you’re a fighter.” She drew her fingers along the side of his face and he let her, loath to break the moment. Every sweep of her fingertips brought him a measure of peace that had eluded him for far too long. “That you believe in your cause and will do anything to defend such.”

  “Interesting way of looking at it.”

  Silence reigned between them, broken only by their breathing and the occasional stir of the foul water. Then she said, “No lady of intelligence wishes for a knight in shining armor, Jonathan.” She finger-combed the hair from his forehead, her touch cool and sweet. “Shiny means he has never been to war or had to fight for anything. Armor that is not dented, scratched or scarred shows he was merely a bystander, a man who has shunned courage. A lady knows such a knight won’t fight for her if the time comes. Remember that.”

  When he finally opened his eyes, he held her gaze. Compassion and something he couldn’t quite identify sparkled in those indigo depths. It caught him off guard, intrigued him all at once, and he stared, wondering, not daring to give life to hope. The longer he communed in this moment with her, the more a sensation of falling once more gripped him, only he wasn’t moving, wasn’t in peril this time.

  The weightless feeling was the same though, and the tumble was both exhilarating and alarming. “I’m rather rubbish at talking about how I feel.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “It doesn’t come naturally, most likely stems from years of my father telling me to buck up, keep a stiff upper lip and that Banshires do not cause scenes.”

  “You did admirably.” Sophia nodded. “Sharing emotions with someone doesn’t make you weak, and that doesn’t mean you’re worthless.” She stopped her massage but left her hand on his thigh. The heat of her empowered him. “Being strong doesn’t make you invincible, but having those two sides prepares you for the life you desire, the life you deserve.”

  “What if I don’t know what I desire?” His damn voice shook with emotions that threatened to break him. “What if I’m certain I don’t deserve anything good because of what I’ve done, what I am?” He’d laid bare his life and that vulnerability terrified him. Never had he let anyone see beneath his carefully crafted façade. Not even Archewyne.

  She glanced at him, her eyes wide and full of unspoken things he wished he knew about. “Choose to make your darkest hour your defining moment. Choose happiness anyway when the only thing you’re confronted with is anger and ugliness and fear. Look past it all and allow yourself to smile, to walk into the sunshine because beyond all the muck is what you’ve always been searching for.” She shrugged and the spellbinding moment broke. “Then will you know, past all doubt, what you want and why.”

  “When did you become so wise?” At every turn she surprised him. She certainly wasn’t the woman he’d assumed from his father’s letter all those years ago. “The words you’ve given me, they are somehow enchanted. They are exactly what I needed to hear.”

  “Perhaps it’s a product of growing up knowing I had no future, of seeing my father act like a fool. Perhaps it was losing my brother and hoping there was a higher reason for it.” She shook her head. “Or perhaps it is always believing there is something better beyond my current circumstances, that if I keep going, keep searching, keep fighting, I’ll find it.”

  Damn, but she’s amazing. No bitterness had touched her even after everything that had happened to her over the years. “Never lose that outlook, Sophia. It helps others as much as it does you.” He wrapped a hand along the back of her neck, glanced the pad of his thumb along her jaw, her bottom lip, the upper curve of her cheek where a smudge of dirt marred her skin, and she shivered. “Never let anyone tell you what you think is impossible.” Not stopping to consider the consequences, he scooped her into his lap so that she straddled his waist. Her wet skirts and his greatcoat bunched between them. “Because you are anything but.”

  She settled one hand on his shoulder and the other along the side of his neck as she held his gaze with hers that shone. “That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “I apologize it took me so long.” Knowing he shouldn’t but unable to help himself,
he pressed his lips to hers. When she uttered a tiny sound of surrender, he settled her more comfortably in his arms and kissed her over and over, continued to play her mouth until the cold seeping through his backside was forgotten. Her petal soft lips cradled his like a lover, the plump flesh hot against his.

  He wanted her, hungered for her, needed her, but dank water confined to an ancient Roman well was not conducive to such amorous activity.

  So he contented himself with taking his fill from her mouth, again and again drinking from her, nibbling at her lips, licking them, fencing with her tongue, thrilling at the glide of silk on satin. When she wriggled on his lap and heat further hardened his member, she plucked at the knot of his cravat, and he broke the kiss with a heavy sigh.

  “We should stop before one or both of us are embarrassed.” Mostly him.

  The pout on her kiss-swollen lips nearly had him reneging on his promise. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” Her eyes twinkled with a wicked promise he’d do well to ignore lest he lose the rest of his self-control or his dignity.

  “While it might be gratifying, I do not plan to spend the remainder of my life in this well, and this place isn’t fit for such activity.” He eased her from his lap. She stood and paced about the tight confines of their prison. “Thank you for listening to my rambles. I appreciate the friendship.”

  Sophia nodded. Some of the light faded from her eyes. “I’m happy to help in any way I can.” Her voice shook slightly. Darting her focus to his leg, she asked, “Do you need assistance putting it back on?”

  “No.” He pulled the limb toward him. “But perhaps I can help you. The good thing about having a custom-made artificial leg is that I can design its specifications.” With a twist of his wrist and a press of two places on the upper portion of the leg, the secret compartment popped open. “Here, take a couple of swigs of this. It’ll keep off the chill and bolster your strength.” He tossed a shiny silver flask across the space at her.