Misleading a Duke

by A. S. Fenichel

  Logic said he was right, but Faith’s fury didn’t wane. “I don’t care what they think is right or wrong. I care only that they have hurt you and I want them to pay for it.”

  He wrapped a hand around her knee. “I should never like to have you as an enemy, sweetheart.”

  There was comfort in his touch. She no longer cared about propriety. They had moved beyond such things. “No, nor any of the other Wallflowers, I think. We can be quite ruthless, when necessary. I’m still not convinced that one of them didn’t have a hand in Radcliff’s death.” Faith wrung out the towel, leaving the water pink with his blood. She continued to clean with one cloth and dry with the other until his entire back was free of excess blood, sweat, and grime.

  “Do you think so? I thought he was killed during an incident at a gaming hell.” Nick stiffened as she cleaned a particularly deep gash.

  She stilled until he relaxed, and then continued. “He was. But Mercy had mentioned a week or so before that she’d overheard him bragging about his cheating, and he was sure he would fill his coffers before anyone noticed his system.”

  “You think Mercedes Heath could have orchestrated Radcliff’s death?” Nick sounded affronted, but his smile told a different story.

  It had only been four days, but his smile was a beacon of hope after the worst days of her life. “I think she might have found a way to send word to the gambling-house owner. Whether or not she knew it would lead to a stabbing, I can’t be sure.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  Faith cleaned the last cut near the waist of his breeches and plunked the towels in the bucket. She dragged it near the door before going to the dresser and gathering the pot of honey. The honey would keep his wounds from festering and poisoning his blood. “I see no reason to ask Mercy about the matter. If she did have something to do with it, I would be putting her in a position where she might have to lie. If she didn’t, I might offend her. Though, I suppose there is the possibility she would just tell me the truth.”

  “Whatever that is, it takes the sting out.” Nick sighed and relaxed into the soft down.

  “It’s honey. It will also keep you from cracking the new scabs as they form, which will mean less scarring and it should stave off any festering.” Putting aside the honey, she placed bandages across his back.

  “Whoever was responsible for Radcliff’s death, I’m glad your friend is free of him.”

  She had never told her suspicions to anyone else. Somehow, she had come to trust a man who admitted to being a spy. She knew he would understand why one of the Wallflowers might have done such a thing. Faith often wished she’d thought of it herself years earlier. It might have saved Aurora a litany of pain. “I trust you will keep my suspicions to yourself, Nick.”

  He rolled slightly and looked her in the eye. “I will keep any and all secrets you wish to share with me, Faith.”

  “I will keep yours as well.” She stood. “If you can sit up, I will secure the bandages. Then you can rest.”

  The bedroom filled with his groans as he pushed first to his hands and knees and then turned himself to sit on the edge of the bed. “If the idea of sleep was not so appealing, I would have refused.”

  She held a rolled-up bandage. “Can you lift your arms?”

  He did, but his face contorted in agony.

  “I will be quick.” Glad for the wide bandage, she wrapped him quickly from his waist to just under his arms, and then tucked the ends in. Between the sticky honey and his inability to move, the wrapping should hold until morning.

  Nick stood and walked around the bed before rolling to his stomach and sinking his head in the pillow. “Lie here with me, Faith?”

  Exhausted and haunted by what she’d seen, she couldn’t help allowing her tears to finally fall in earnest.

  Rolling to his side, he studied her. “Faith?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m just tired and…” Sobs wracked her body and she sat on the edge of the bed with her head in her hands.

  “Sweetheart, come here, please.” Nick’s plea slipped through her hysteria.

  Like a child, she shuffled around the bed and climbed in. Unable to face him, she lay on her side with her back toward him.

  His strong arm wrapped around her and he hauled her back against his chest. “There is no shame in crying after what you have been through,” he whispered against her ear. “I wish I could manage a good cry, but my emotions will never permit such a release.”

  More gales of tears forced their way out and her body heaved with emotion.

  Nick held her and kissed the back of her neck. “Let it out, my sweet, brave girl. No one could have handled this better than you have. This is all my fault. I had no right to bring you into such a mess.”

  Gulping air until she got her emotions under control, she calmed. She loved the feel of his arm around her, and his kisses sent chills through her even in their current state. “I am sorry to be such a ninny. I don’t know what’s happened to me. I rarely cry, but these last few days have been overwhelming.”

  “To say the least.” He pressed another kiss just behind her ear. “You have every right to cry, rage, hit me, and more. I hope I live long enough to make this up to you.”

  “Nick?” Her voice trembled.

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “Do you think Charles was telling the truth? Will the other two really be gone all day? I don’t want to sleep if you might be dragged away.” Her heart pounded with the knowledge that he would not survive another such beating.

  “Sleep. He did lie. They will be gone at least two days, perhaps three. They’ve gone to Ellesmere Port to meet a messenger. They left right after I lied about the location of the English army. They thought I was unconscious when they divulged their plans.” Nick rested his cheek against the back of her head.

  “I’m glad you lied, but why did you wait so long?” Her eyelids weighed down and it was a struggle to stay awake.

  “If I gave in too early, they may not have believed me or they may have killed me once they knew. I needed to buy time.”

  She yawned. “Time for what?”

  “For someone to come save you. We need four or five more days and I think we only have two or three.” His voice faded at the end and his arm grew limp around her.

  Faith wanted to enjoy the feel of him around her, behind her, and so intimately with her. She imagined what a lifetime of nights as his wife might be, but her body gave in to the need for rest.

  Chapter 11

  Nick had never been so uncomfortable and delighted at the same time in his life. Waking with all of Faith’s soft curves tightly fitted against his body was pure torture and absolute heaven. She was all curves, with a narrow waist, full hips, and delectably plump breasts.

  Moving his arm pulled at the scabs forming on his back, but he couldn’t resist running his hand down her hip to her thigh and back again until he settled at her ribs.

  When he’d asked her to lie with him the day before, he’d expected her to refuse. Then her tears had nearly broken his heart. He’d seen women cry before, but it was usually to gain some favor from him. Faith’s tears had built up over days of strain in an untenable situation. She had broken down and let him comfort her. It was the most useful he’d ever felt.

  A sliver of sunlight filtered through the curtains. Nick wished he could have remained fitted to Faith’s backside for hours, but servants would arrive soon and he didn’t know what the day would bring.

  With agonizing slowness, Nick pushed back until he could sit up, and slid to the edge of the bed. Still wrapped in the sheet, he made the effort to pull on the clean breeches left for him by Jane. Looking at the blouse, he agonized at the thought of dragging the fine cloth over his ravaged back.

  The sheets ruffled and a low feminine sigh followed.

  Nick’s pulse tripped at the sound and how perfect s
he was in every way. He turned to find her stretched out with her arms above her head and every inch of her curves arched on the mattress. If the exertion wouldn’t have killed him, he’d have seduced her on the spot. As it was, he was in no condition for such activities. “Good morning.”

  She rolled to her side and opened her eyes. “How do you feel, Nick?”

  Having promised never to lie to her again, he said, “Sore but rested.”

  Faith rolled from the bed. Her cream day dress was wrinkled and her hair a wild mass falling out of her bun. She pointed to the table. “I suppose the servants were here last night and took the soup away.”

  Noting the empty table, Nick nodded. “I hope we are to be fed this morning or we shall regret not having forced more soup down yesterday.”

  She slid on her slippers, brushed her curls from her face, and stood. “We must have slept a long time.”

  Nick stepped in front of her and held her by the arms. “How do you feel?”

  Lowering her chin, she gazed up at him from hooded lids. “I am sorry for crying. You have been through so much, and I have no right to tears.”

  With a kiss on her forehead, Nick smiled. “You have every right, sweetheart. None of this should have happened to you. I am to blame, and if you never wanted to speak to me again, you would be perfectly right.”

  A scratch at the door was followed by Jamie and Thea entering.

  Nick dropped his hands and stepped away. He longed to know how she would have responded to his statement, but it would have to wait. Though, he suspected, she would be well rid of him when this mess came to an end. She needed him for the moment, and her softhearted nature made her care for everyone around her. When she had time to reflect on what he’d put her through, Faith would walk out of his life, and he would be powerless to stop her. He would not blame her. Nothing he could ever do would make up for what he put her through.

  Jamie hefted a fresh bucket of water, while Thea placed a tray of food and coffee on the table. The scent of fresh yeasty bread filled the room, along with sausage and coddled eggs with some kind of herbs.

  Thea stared a long time at Faith. “Are you all right, my lady?”

  “Yes. Thank you, Thea.” She took the girl’s hand.

  “And His Grace?” The cook didn’t glance at him.

  “His back will need time to heal, but he is better today.” Faith offered a hint of a smile.

  Thea nodded, then lowered her voice. “It is just the one they call Charles here now. The other two have fled. We are free to move about, but I fear sending Jamie for help, lest Charles take my disobedience out on you.”

  Wishing he could put on a shirt, Nick stepped closer. “Do not put you or the boy in danger, Cook. We shall find another way. By now, MacGruder would have noted the invasion. I have hope that two days ago, he would have sent for help.”

  Faith’s eyes narrowed with worry, but she forced a smile for Thea’s sake.

  Jane entered with soap and clothes just as the younger servants were leaving.

  Holding a chair for Faith, Nick leaned down and asked, “What troubles you, sweetheart?”

  Faith sighed. “I have kept something from you. Mr. MacGruder came to the wine cellar.”

  “What?” He sat across from her, trying to process what she’d said.

  “He came to rescue me, but I refused to leave you and the servants. Surely someone would have died for my leaving. I couldn’t bear it.” Her voice rang tight with emotion.

  She was the most frustrating woman he’d ever met. Lord, but how brave she was, and probably right. When’d he’d pulled himself under control, he spoke calmly. “When was that?”

  She stared at the ceiling and pressed fingers to her thumb as if counting before shaking her head. “Time is so confused when in the dark for a long time. The first time you were taken. It couldn’t have been more than an hour before they brought you back to the cellar.”

  Nick stared at his hands. She was right about time getting away when life was suspended by horror. His voice was tight and unfamiliar. “Then my pretty lie to the children might actually have been the truth.”

  “Are you very angry at me?” She held her breath.

  He was, but at the same time he couldn’t fault her. “I’m furious that you did not save yourself.”

  She sighed and turned her gaze away.

  “However,” he added, “you were probably right, in that someone would have been punished for your leaving. The boy likely would have been beaten or killed as an example and my own death expedited as they would feel pressured for time. But, Faith, must you be so brave?”

  Warmth bloomed on her cheeks. “I am not brave, but I do know right from wrong. Still, if Mr. MacGruder went for help two days ago, it will still be four or five before we might be rescued. You will not survive, Nick.” Fresh tears welled in her eyes, though she brushed them away.

  Touched by her caring, Nick forced a smile. “We shall have to do our best and hope Jean-Claude and Joseph are delayed.”

  “Perhaps Charles can be persuaded to release us.” She sipped a cup of coffee.

  Nick shook his head. “That is unlikely. Charles has his own agenda, and I doubt it includes Joseph learning of his duplicity. He would land in my shoes, and that’s the last thing he wants.”

  “Why don’t you tell them about Charles? Maybe that will be enough to keep you alive. At least it would divert their attention.” Faith’s eyes brimmed with hope.

  “It might, but it would lose us the one person who does not want me killed. If not for Charles, I might be dead already and you might not have been fed. He will see that you are safely returned home should I die here. I don’t know what the others might do to you.”

  It was a harsh reality and he hated putting thoughts of her own danger in her head, but the truth was what would save them or be their undoing. He would lie to the spies he once called friends, but he would not lie to Faith.

  She stared at him, a bite of sausage perched on her fork and frozen halfway to her mouth. “You have that much faith in Charles?”

  “No. But he is less ruthless than the others and believes himself a gentleman.” Nick shuddered inside at what a fiend like Joseph Fouché might do to Faith if he got a notion that she could help his cause.

  Faith blinked.

  Jane stood behind her holding a shawl, gaping.

  With a laugh, Faith popped the sausage in her mouth. She continued to chuckle while she chewed. “You really meant it when you said you would not lie to me anymore.”

  “I meant it.”

  Jane placed the shawl over Faith’s shoulders. “I think I would prefer a pretty lie at this point.”

  Laughing, Nick agreed. The movement sent a spasm of pain across his back and he bit down on a curse. He fisted his hands on the table until the pain subsided. “This will take some time,” he said to himself, though both women studied him. “Jane, does Charles keep the keys with him at all times?”

  “He gave them to me to release my lady, but other than that, he has kept them. He unlocked the door this morning and let us in. I assume he will lock the door again when I leave.” She had come close and kept her voice at a whisper.

  “And did he take his wine last night despite eating alone?” Nick forced down a few more bites of bread, and had to rest. He leaned one arm on the table and hoped his rudeness would be forgiven as he sipped some bitter coffee.

  “He drank an entire carafe and could barely get himself off to bed.” She sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Interesting. Nick worried over what Charles planned for the day ahead. “What has he told you about today, Jane?”

  “Only that my lady may have a bath if she wishes.”

  Nick glanced between the two. “He will ask you to dine with him tonight, Faith. I would bet on it. You should go and see what he wants. Jane, ge
t your lady a kitchen knife to put in her boot, should his desires be of an amorous temper.”

  Bright red, Faith put her fork down. “He wouldn’t.”

  Shrugging, Nick said, “I don’t think so, but it’s best to be cautious. If he touched you and you didn’t kill him first, I would have to.”

  Her blush deepened and disappeared beneath the low dip in her dress. “Get me the knife, Jane.”

  Pride swelled inside Nick, but his strength waned. “I’m afraid I must return to bed.”

  “I will go and get fresh bandages, Your Grace.” Jane rushed from the room.

  Nick stood with less difficulty than before and walked to the bed. He would have loved to rest on his back and watch Faith finish her breakfast, but he had no choice but to lie on his stomach or side. Opting for his front without her sweet body to lean against, he was unable to keep his eyes open.

  * * * *

  Awakened by a cold blade near his ribs, Nick jerked to the side. Pain shot up his back.

  “Shh…You’re all right. It’s only a scissor. I’m cutting the old bandages away.” Faith’s voice was soft and soothing.

  Nick relaxed but turned his head to see her kneeling on the bed. She’d changed into a soft yellow dress and smelled like roses. “You’ve had a bath?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you to change your dressing, so Jane arranged a bath while you slept. I’m happy to have my hair clean again.” She put the scissors aside and eased the bandages away from his back.

  The odd sensation of honey sliding away from skin was not painful. “May I touch your hair, sweetheart?”

  She froze, the cloth halfway across his back. “Perhaps, when I’m finished. If you wish.”

  “I’ve been dying to touch those curls since the first time I saw you attempting to tame them back into a chignon,” he admitted.

  “My hair is impossible.” She cut the other side of the dressings and tossed them aside before beginning to clean his wounds.

  “I have had many fantasies about your hair and other parts of you.” He sighed as his own thoughts caused him discomfort and it was a relief he was facedown.