Angel In My Bed

by Melody Thomas

  Except that she did wear her title well, he realized. He loosened his hold on her. She fell away from him, her eyes wide, and he was aware of the confusion his words caused her. She retreated a step, then turned in a slide of damp fabric. Adjusting his trousers, his eyes narrowing on the swing of her skirts, he waited a moment before following her down the corridor.

  In the kitchen, Bethany had made two hot toddies and handed one to Meg. “I made them strong,” she said with a smile.

  “Where is Lord Chadwick’s cloak?” his wife demanded with the clear intent of throwing him out into the storm.

  Bethany handed David the second toddy. “Oh, but you mustn’t think about leaving us tonight, my lord. We have room here.”

  “Oh, for goodness sakes, Bethany—”

  “He could ride off a cliff, Victoria.”

  Content to allow Bethany to fight his battle, David fixed his eyes on Meg from over the rim of his glass. She stood in front of the fire blazing in the hearth. “I’m sure His Lordship knows the way quite well. The storm isn’t that bad.”

  Thunder rattled the eaves. She took a swallow of her toddy, and switched her gaze to him as if to blame him for the weather. His eyes continued to hold hers above the pewter. “I think my cousin still hasn’t forgiven me for tying her pigtails in knots when she was younger,” David said to Bethany, but he spoke to Meg.

  “He did that?” The girl laughed.

  His eyes smiling into Meg’s, he reminded her that he had done far more than loop her hair around the bedstead. He had stripped her naked and put his mouth on places the memory of which even now brought a heated blush on her cheeks.

  His mouth edged up. “She never could beat me on a horse, either. Methinks she holds a grudge,” he said behind his hand in a mock whisper.

  Rain began to pound the cottage. Bethany turned to Meg. “No one should be out on a night like this. We have room here.” She smiled at David. “As long as you don’t mind Zeus, Lord Chadwick.”

  “Zeus?”

  “My brother’s cat. It sleeps on the bed in Nathanial’s room.”

  David looked at Meg, who, clearly flustered, had found solace in her toddy. He felt a twinge of guilt to see her so outnumbered and outmaneuvered, first by him, then by Sir Henry, and now by Bethany. “Only if it’s acceptable to Lady Munro.” He set his toddy aside. The last thing he wanted to be inside was warm and cozy.

  “Of course it’s acceptable.” Bethany turned her eyes on Meg. “Isn’t it?”

  “I’ve not changed the bedding.”

  “I don’t mind,” he said.

  “He doesn’t mind,” Bethany echoed.

  Meg’s mouth went flat. “You haven’t any clothes.”

  He opened his arms, willing himself to be humble in the wake of her defeat. “I’m wearing them.”

  “Wonderful!” Bethany clapped her hands together as if that decided the matter. “I’ll show him to his room.”

  “You’ll do no such thing, Bethany Munro,” Meg snapped. “I believe it is time for you to retire.” She added on a softer note. “His Lordship and I have some catching up to do. Family matters, as it were.”

  Bethany turned to David. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Count on it, Miss Munro.”

  “I think it’s wonderful that you’re here.”

  “Good night, Bethany,” Meg said, hurrying her on.

  Bethany dipped into a curtsy. “Good night, my lord.”

  Recognizing a crush when he saw one, David watched Bethany flounce from the room. Clearing his throat, he turned and glimpsed the cloudy expression on Meg’s face as she also watched her stepdaughter, probably pondering the same thing.

  David wondered if Meg had ever been as young as Bethany or as vulnerable. He had met her when she was only a little older than Bethany was now. His eyes moved over Meg. Firelight from the hearth rippled through her long ebony hair damp from rain.

  It was madness to be so absorbed, yet he could not force himself to look away. And as if his thoughts somehow transcended the distance separating them, she turned her head and he suddenly found himself staring at the most beguiling enigma of all.

  His wife.

  “That was interesting,” he said.

  “Don’t be too flattered. Bethany falls in love with someone new every month. Clearly she’s picked you for October.”

  Duly cut down to size, he quirked his mouth. “I’ll not let it go to my head.”

  Looking away, she seemed to grapple for thought. A flash illuminated the window behind her, and he saw that she was not as indifferent to him as she appeared.

  “Be sure that you don’t. It’s just that she’s enthusiastic…and young. She hasn’t had to face true hardship, yet.” Meg set the empty toddy mug in the wash tub behind her. “I have no desire to pretend that anything is somehow different than what it is with you, David.”

  He stopped her from sidestepping around him. “You and I made a bargain about the house. I won’t go back on my word.”

  She snatched up the lamp sitting on the trestle table. “I fear we haven’t any servants to help with your toilette.” Ignoring him, she stepped around the table. “There is a cistern pump in the sink if you want water. Linens for a bath are in the closet off this kitchen.”

  “Paying the taxes on Rose Briar isn’t enough to secure the property.”

  “Esma serves breakfast early.”

  Again, he stopped her. “I know what you think of me…”

  “You cannot possibly understand what I think!” She shook her head, and then looked at him directly, pain in her eyes. “This family isn’t yours. These people aren’t yours. I don’t want them hurt. The only thing you are here to do is catch Colonel Faraday.”

  “I may not be particular about the fate of a known traitor and murderer, but I do keep my word, Meg.” Why was he even defending himself? In frustration he looked at the ceiling, then outside at the storm. “Where is Rockwell sleeping tonight?”

  “In the gardener’s cottage.” Her voice hesitated, and he saw that she had marked his mood. “After tonight, I will see that he is moved to one of the linen closets off the kitchen.”

  “No doubt he will appreciate the accommodations.”

  “It’s a big closet.” In the dim light, her eyes shone softly. “If he is here to protect this family, he’ll need to be inside.”

  David agreed. They stood for a moment longer, suddenly awkward in the warm silence of the kitchen.

  “I should show you to your room.”

  She walked him past a well-appointed drawing room and up the wooden stairs, a creak marking their every step. “The Shelby family lives in the bigger cottage out back. Mr. Shelby and his son tend to the stables. Esma and her daughter cook and help with the chores. But if you want anything to eat tonight, you are on your own.”

  “I already dined with your family. Have you eaten?”

  “Mr. Rockwell and I stopped at an inn on the way.”

  He followed her to a room tucked at the end of the hallway. The ceiling slanted low enough that David could not walk three feet into the room and stand straight. Stopping just inside the doorway, he looked around the walls filled with charcoal drawings of trains before glimpsing the simple iron bedstead big enough to fit two people. Meg set the lantern on the maple dresser and struck a match to another lamp. The room was free of dust, and he guessed that someone spent a lot of time in here.

  “Is Nathanial very much like Bethany?” he asked as more light filled the dark interior, curious about the two children she had inherited upon her arrival from India all those years ago. She would have been nineteen, he realized.

  Meg blew out the match. The scent of sulphur drifted in the air. She replaced the glass bulb on the lamp. “They are very close.” With her dark hair spilling over her shoulders, she folded her arms and turned. “Sir Henry is dying, David. He thinks he’s found a way to protect this family from Nellis when he is gone.”

  “Wha
t are you talking about?”

  “He has a cancer inside him. He doesn’t want me to know but from what I can tell, he has been drinking more to hide the pain.”

  “Hence, Nellis has decided to move in on all of you.”

  “Nellis is the son of Sir Henry’s oldest brother and the chief magistrate for this entire region. He is a middle-aged widower married some years before I returned to England. He fancies himself this family’s guardian. Six months ago, for whatever reason, he became interested in Sir Henry’s land.”

  “You mean he became interested in you.”

  She plowed her fingers through her dampened hair. “Sir Henry thinks by giving you the estate, he has somehow secured our future, and for some reason because of your alleged relationship to me, he trusts you to protect all of us.” She laughed. “The irony is brilliant, don’t you think?”

  “Except if Sir Henry should die before Nathanial and Bethany come of age, as the closest male relative, Nellis would still become their guardian regardless of Rose Briar. My owning the estate means nothing in that regard.”

  Her attention returned to the dresser. “That won’t happen,” she said, her voice a whisper. She opened a drawer and replaced the box of matches. “Sir Henry won’t die.”

  Aware that he was feeling proprietary in his intentions toward her, David knew he couldn’t allow her to suck him into her life. He’d already done enough by seeing that Nellis did not receive the estate—at great cost to him. Outside rain sheeted against the glass. All around him the scent of myrrh and quince drifting from her made her smell like an exotic houri girl who should be in some sheik’s harem.

  “Your feet are going to hang over the bed,” she said.

  David peered at the bed. A flash of lightning brightened the red squares in the quilted comforter. “Is that quilt one of yours?”

  She gave him a brief glimpse of a rare smile, and he found himself lost between the logic and lust that began to war inside him. “My first and only quilt,” she answered cheerfully. “Patience is its own reward, so I was promised. It’s a lie.”

  He touched a length of her hair and looked into her eyes. “Is it?” The contact was an error in judgment, and he knew it the instant he touched her.

  She reclaimed the captured curl. “This isn’t part of our arrangement. I agreed to help you catch my father, not to sleep beneath the same roof with you.”

  Hell, he wanted to sleep in the same bed with her, do more than sleep, and he had the nerve to laugh at his own weakness. “Don’t make the arrangement sound so intimate. I’m not asking you to share my sheets.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She tucked the strand of hair behind her ear. “I mean it doesn’t matter in the sense that it will never happen.”

  He followed her retreat. “What will never happen?”

  “It…intimacy between us will never happen.”

  “Because you don’t want intimacy?” he asked, annoyed that she was doing everything in her power to avoid touching him. “Or because you forgot how to be intimate?”

  “Spare me your boorishness, David. Surely you have other woman to torment.” She swept past him.

  He caught her arm and pulled her around. “None to whom I’m married.”

  Color tinged her cheeks. He noticed that about her. For all of her courage when facing down brigands in the night, she behaved like a virgin with him. Or maybe he was the one behaving like a virgin. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman?

  He lifted her hand into the light. The band on her finger flashed gold. “You’re still wearing my ring. Why?”

  She tried and failed to snatch her hand away. “You should know the answer to that.”

  He didn’t give a damn if she was pretending to be a widow; he wanted to know why she still wore his ring. “No, I don’t.”

  His fingers went to her chin and traced her mouth. He felt the softness of her lips against the pads of his fingertips. She still felt perfect to him.

  He moved closer, sank his other hand into her hair and tilted her face, but whatever he’d been about to say died when he heard her whisper his name. It fell against his lips in an intoxicating blur, and his ice-cold world cracked with the promise of warmth. He’d never had any control around her. No restraint.

  He should have kept his hands off her, but he knew from experience the feat was impossible. He closed his mouth over hers, parted her lips, and, sinking all ten fingers into her dampened hair, lost himself completely in the kiss.

  He savored. He tasted.

  His hands gently framed her face. With a half sob, she stepped into his arms.

  Groaning deep in his chest, he felt the kiss deepen; then felt nothing else but the blood rushing through his veins. Heat flooded his body, filled his loins, and he backed her up until she hit the dresser. His breathing coming more rapidly, his grip tightened. Logic whipped at his lust. This was a bad idea on so many bloody levels, he didn’t know where to start, or how to stop. Or if he wanted to stop ever.

  Hunger spiraled to edge out his control. Outside the storm cocooned them. Inside it raged silently. It raged past barriers and memories. Past emotions that crumbled into tiny shards and fell to his feet—until he realized that he had pulled away slightly, but not so far he couldn’t taste her on his lips or breathe the air that she pulled into her lungs. He could feel her full breasts against his chest, feel the hard bite of her nails against his shoulders.

  “When was the last time you had a lover?” he asked.

  When she didn’t reply, he looked into the violet of her eyes. The light that bathed her was golden and warm, beckoning and promising. “When?”

  “You.” Her eyes searched his. “You were the last, David.”

  He stared at her hard. Her lips were still wet from his kiss. “I don’t understand…”

  She was more passionate than any woman he’d ever known. Once, long ago, men of every country had fallen all over themselves for her attentions, and he was sure she had used that to her advantage when robbing them blind. “You can steal a fortune and kill a man?” he asked, “but adultery is out of your realm of sins?”

  With renewed anger, she shoved hard against him. “I did not kill your partner. He was in our bedroom waiting for you that day when I walked in and found him hiding,” she added on a whisper. “He had already been shot. I only know that the papers he had on him were arrest warrants with your signature, David. So do not preach your ethic to me.”

  His expression set, he remembered that morning as if it were yesterday. He had walked into the room to find his partner dead, and a gun in Meg’s hand pointed directly at his heart. Even now, he couldn’t believe that she’d actually pulled the trigger. Or maybe he could. “You are not innocent of everything, Meg.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” She pushed past him.

  David turned just as the door slammed in his face and brought him up short. Next to this chamber, another door shut hard.

  Rubbing one palm across his bristly jaw, he looked around the cozy little room and mentally groaned at the erection pressing hard against his trousers. A wooden train sat on the floor next to a stuffed purple cow and a rocking horse, the innocence of his surroundings suddenly making him feel all too depraved.

  “You’re an idiot, David,” he muttered, softly addressing the rafters, the demons, and all the ugly ghosts in his soul. “A complete and bloody idiot.”

  Victoria didn’t awaken until noon.

  In disbelief, she threw off the covers and, unmindful of the cold floor, washed and cleaned her teeth. She dragged a brush through her hair and pinned it in a chignon, then dressed and checked Nathanial’s room. The bed was perfectly made as if no one had violated the sanctity of her son’s chambers. As if David had never been there at all. As if he had never kissed her, and she had dreamed up the entire past week.

  If only Providence were so kind, she thought, feeling restless and edgy, the cause of her frustration clearly defined in her mind as she realized how hopeles
sly banal she had already become. Her room next to this one, she’d listened all night to David’s movements, as she imagined him attempting to find comfort on a mattress too short for him.

  What had she been thinking to allow him to kiss her?

  She shut the door and hurried downstairs in time to hear the tall clock on the stairway bong twelve times. Checking on Sir Henry, she found him asleep, before wading through the familiar smells of baking bread and mulled cider coming from the kitchen.

  “Good afternoon, mum.” Esma Shelby turned from the stove as Victoria walked to the cupboard and removed a ceramic mug. Wisps of damp mustard-colored hair curled around Esma’s face. “Sleep has brought the apples back to your cheeks.”

  Victoria grabbed a mitt and lifted the tin coffeepot from the stove. Steam emerged from the spout as she poured. “You shouldn’t have allowed me to sleep so long, Mrs. Shelby.”

  “What is one to do in weather like this? You need rest. His Lordship said so.”

  Annoyed that David thought he had any authority here, Victoria wrapped her hands around the cup and held it to her nose. “How long ago did…my cousin leave?”

  “His Lordship was up at the crack of dawn.” Esma stirred a wooden spoon in a pot of pumpkin soup. “Spoke to that young man you hired, mounted that black of his and left. Don’t rightly know where he went but he said he’d be back for supper.”

  “Did he?” Victoria leveled a look at the housekeeper. “Just like that? He invited himself?”

  Esma’s brows lifted. “Seeing that he is your family, he probably assumed he was welcomed here.”

  Victoria buried a reply in her cup. David could charm the fangs from a viper. She was disappointed how easily her entire family had fallen for him. “Just be cautious. He is a stranger regardless of his relationship to me. You should not just naturally give him your trust. After all, I haven’t seen him in years.”

  “He came to your aid, didn’t he?” her housekeeper challenged.

  Victoria refused to comment, and Esma took her silence as agreement. “He be a fine-looking man, mum,” she said on a sigh that belied her sweet, grandmotherly façade. “A gentleman he is, too. Helped carry in the coal for the stove and thanked me proper for the porridge he ate. Bethany has taken after him, smitten child that she is.” Esma chuckled. “Seems like something about him is familiar though…”