Gavin lifted his head, his gaze meeting hers as his eyes widened in surprise. “What’s the matter?”
“Sam,” she gasped between heaving breaths.
He was up in an instant and around the desk. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her back out the door, retracing the path she had just taken.
Her lungs threatened to burst but at least she was doing something. She pushed back the helpless feeling that suffocated her and squeezed Gavin’s hand tightly.
He stopped and pulled her close, wrapping an arm about her waist. “What happened?”
“I didn’t dare go in, but he was restless and…” She swallowed, panting around the words, as she tried to force them out. “I’m worried he has a fever.”
He nodded, squeezing her tight. “Try not to worry.”
Impossible. “Not only am I worried for him, terribly so, I am concerned for myself.” She bit her lip as he pulled her body closer. This time, her reaction was more emotional. She wanted to bury herself against his strong chest. “Selfish, I know.”
They pressed on and then stopped in front of Sam’s door. “It isn’t selfish. Being alone in this world is terribly difficult.” Then he set her down on her feet and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll check on him and send for the doctor if needed.”
She twisted her hands together as he opened the door and then closed it behind him. Perhaps she’d overreacted. Maybe he was simply having a bad dream.
Leaning against the jamb of the door, tears threatened to spill down her face. What was she going to do now?
Gavin looked down at Sam, his gut clenching. Dahlia’s instincts were unfortunately correct. The man had indeed spiked a fever in the night and the infection now ravaged his body. The doctor had been here only the day before and had been pleased with Sam’s progress. What had happened?
Smoothing back Sam’s hair, he glanced into the corner, where Dahlia now sat, her eyes wide with fear, her face pale. He’d meant what he had said earlier. Facing the world alone was a bloody awful business. He’d been doing exactly that for the last few years and while he’d managed to grow accustomed to the loss, he still felt the void left behind. For a woman, however, the world was different, and more difficult. He’d made a choice that he’d bear the loneliness to avoid the loss. Unless Dahlia had a good inheritance, she wasn’t likely able to have the same choice.
“Do you have a dowry from your family?” he asked, still watching Sam’s face.
“No.” She answered him, her voice raw, as though she were about to cry. “We used every penny to send Sam to school.”
He nearly swore but managed to refrain. Last night, he and Sam had been talking after dinner. Looking back, he should have realized that Sam appeared paler than normal. Tired and drawn. But he’d been too engrossed in the conversation.
He’d learned that his little Dahlia was, in fact, a little liar. Mrs. Greenwich had been their tutor. Sam had mentioned her. And when he’d asked about Dahlia’s marriage prospects, Sam had simply said. “A great many have tried, but no one’s caught her yet.” Then Sam’s face grew serious. “We have one cousin, but he’s horrid. I would ask you to see to Dahlia’s future if I don’t live. I know it’s more than I have a right to ask.”
He’d clapped Sam on the shoulder. The thought of Dahlia going to some horrid relation filled him with a possessive anger he couldn’t shake. “You have my word.”
And he had meant it. Any plans he’d had for an affair had evaporated. Nor was he angry about the lie. In her position, he’d likely have done the same. In fact, a new idea was taking shape. If Sam didn’t live, he’d marry Dahlia himself.
He knew he’d sworn off the institution and he would be opening himself up to potential loss but Dahlia was strong and she understood him in ways so few women would. Life had dealt her more than one blow. He was attracted to her and she needed a man to support her. Granted, he’d have to maintain some emotional distance, but at least he could keep her safe, cared for. She would understand that bargain, he was certain.
Somehow, thinking of their relationship in those terms, a deal that bettered her life and allowed him continue his line made him feel less like he was betraying Amelia.
“Why don’t you get some rest?” He stepped away from Sam, crossing the room to where Dahlia had curled herself in a chair. “You look tired.”
Her face scrunched up. “I can sleep when I know Sam’s fate. He is the best sort of person. Gave up everything to care for me. He doesn’t deserve this.”
He pulled her from the chair and wrapped her in his arms. Her body fit against his in the most satisfying way. They’d surely be able to comfort one another. “I know. There’s no making sense of it. I’ve tried. When I lost Amelia—”
Dahlia jerked back, her face so white she might be mistaken for linen. What had he said that upset her? “Perhaps I should lie down after all.”
He gave a stiff nod. “I think that’s wise. Try to rest. The doctor says that there is still a good chance Sam will be fine. The fever could burn off the infection.”
She gave a stiff nod but said nothing.
He watched her retreat, her shoulders hunched. Gavin’s heart twisted in his chest. Tonight, he’d insist they eat dinner together and he’d talk to her about their future.
Chapter Seven
Dahlia didn’t sleep. Her eyes burned from the tears that lay in wait but she didn’t shed them. She didn’t deserve to grieve. She’d lied to Gavin and she hadn’t taken care of her brother. Her falsehood had been for naught.
A knock interrupted her thoughts. “Who is it?” she called, ceasing her pacing.
“It’s me.” Gavin called from the other side of the door. “I’ve brought dinner.”
Surprise made her start. She’d expected Agnes or perhaps even the butler. She crossed the room, her heart rising in her throat. She didn’t want to see him now. Somehow, his kindness only made her sorrier that she’d lied. But she opened the heavy wood panel door, not wanting to appear rude, and reached out her arms to take the tray. “Thank you.”
He didn’t hand it to her. “I thought I’d join you. There are a few topics I wish to discuss.”
Her stomach rolled. “Discuss?”
He gave her a bright smile as he entered. “First. Your brother seems to be doing better.”
“What?” She covered her mouth with her hand, relief making her shoulders sag.
He set the tray on the table. “He still has a fever, but he was able to drink some broth and it’s definitely come down. He’s sleeping far more peacefully now than he has all day.”
She reached for the post of the bed, leaning against it for support. Her legs threatened to give out, she was so relieved. “That’s so good to hear.”
Gavin crossed over, his hand coming to rest on her back. “I want you to know that either way, I won’t leave you to fend for yourself.”
Dahlia’s chest tightened. What did he mean by that? “Thank you?”
He reached for her hand. “We understand each other, don’t we?”
The guilt that had been niggling in her now belly pitched wildly. “I’m not sure if we do, I suppose.”
He pulled her against his chest. “We’ve both suffered loss and I was afraid to lose again but seeing you like this has made me realize that—”
“Please stop,” she pleaded, her hand coming to her chest. She couldn’t do let him finish knowing that she’d been deceitful. “I must tell you something before you say something you only wish to take back.”
“What?” He searched her face, then bent down, his lips brushing against hers.
“I…” His kiss sent a ricochet of sensation straight to her core. “I’ve been terribly awful and I can’t let you continue without telling you the truth.”
He kissed her again, deeper. “Do you mean that you are not Mrs. Greenwich?”
“What?” She croaked and tried to take a step back, but he held her tight. “How do you know that?”
“I spent the last two days tending to your b
rother. It didn’t take long to discern you weren’t your own tutor.” He trailed a hand up her back and into her hair. “But you have lost your parents and your brother is ill. You understand loss even if it wasn’t that of a spouse. I thought that if you found yourself alone, I would offer for your hand.”
Her mouth hung open as he kissed the spot where her neck joined her ear. “I appreciate your understanding considering my…fib.” She pulled away a little. “Just so that I am clear, you’re saying that you’ll ask me to marry you if my brother dies?”
That made him pause, his body stilled against hers. “I suppose that is what I’m offering, isn’t it?”
This time, Dahlia pushed and he relented, letting go of her and stepping back. “It’s a lovely offer and I am fortunate to know that there is a man willing to step in as my protector should I lose my brother.”
He tilted his chin to the side, assessing her. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“But as you now know that I am not a widow and we have no formal promise, you can understand that I can’t be alone with you. I should not kiss you, and I certainly cannot have private dinners in my room with an unmarried man.” She grabbed his elbow and began pulling him toward the door. She really did appreciate his offer and part of her was tempted to let him stay. She was lonely and he was so…strong and charming. Or perhaps powerful was the word. But her virtue was all that she had left.
He stopped. “No one is here to see.”
Letting go of his arm, she opened her door. “You know how servants can talk.” She was grateful but his offer was conditional and for some reason, that stung. “I wouldn’t want you to be trapped into a match if you could avoid it.” She swept her hand toward the hall. “And it’s only right that I show you the same consideration you have me. We must protect your interests.”
He stepped through the door, scrunching his brow. “Thank you?”
Dahlia would have liked nothing better than to lose herself in those strong, capable arms. But if the past two days had taught her anything, she knew she’d regret any actions that were not upstanding. Besides, Sam was going to get better, his fever was improving. And because of that, she should not become attached to this man. “I felt awful about lying to you. I’m sorry that I did.”
His confusion vanished as understanding lit his face and he stepped closer, his sandalwood scent wrapping about her. “I understand why you did, but I appreciate your apology. And I’m sure Sam appreciates your commitment.”
A small laugh escaped her lips, though it held no humor. “A lot of good I’ve done him.”
“You did your best.” He tipped her chin again and softly brushed his lips against hers. The tenderness made her ache with need.
“My best has been dismal.” She turned her face away. “Which is why I have to ask you to leave. It’s time for me to start making some good choices.”
Gavin scratched his head. He considered himself to be a reasonably intelligent person, and Dahlia was a smart woman. But he was struggling to keep up with the underlying meaning of their conversation. Good choices? “I beg your pardon?”
Dahlia’s mouth twisted. “I can’t be alone with you. It isn’t proper.” She drew in a deep breath. “If Sam’s fever breaks, I’ll go to your cousin’s for the rest of his recovery.” She brought her fingers up to press against her temples, her eyes closing. “Or somewhere else you deem safe.”
His body throbbed in awareness. She was admitting that she was attracted to him. He had the sudden urge to thump his chest in victory. That was, until the door closed soundly in his face. Had she just shut him out?
He started down the hall, sifting through the contents of their conversation. On the one hand, he’d thought it had gone exceedingly well. The truth about her identity was now in the open. He’d offered to help her should she need it, and she’d accepted. On the other, she hadn’t seemed happy, despite her obvious attraction. It was in all the words she hadn’t said, the sadness that had pulled at her mouth. But Sam was doing better. She needn’t be sad.
But then again, Sam was doing better and his offer had been contingent. His gut clenched, but he ignored the feeling of worry. This was what he could offer. A match that made sense only if necessary. To just ask for her hand, well that smacked of real feelings beyond lust and loneliness and he simply couldn’t open that door.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped into his study. The view of the front yard and driveway bathed in sunshine drew his eye outdoors. Perhaps what he needed was a walk. He’d been inside for days.
The decision made, he changed and headed down the grand stair, intent upon a good long walk in the woods. It would sort out his feelings and relieve some of the tension that had built over the past few days.
But as he stepped out the door, a noise caught his ear. It was a low rumble that dragged on and on, punctuated but short clops. It sounded as though multiple carriages were on the road. The noise stopped and the distinct sound of a horse’s whiny cut the air, followed by the squeaking of his gate.
In short order, the rumbling began again. By the sound of it, there were three or four carriages at least. Who would be headed up his drive now?
He shifted his walking stick to his right hand. Nearbottom should have turned back, but what if the man hadn’t received his missive? Or just as likely, ignored the note?
Several seconds passed and as his grip tightened on the handle of the stick. He didn’t have to wait long as an ornate coach came into view. Letting out a low groan, Gavin ran his free hand through his hair.
Nearbottom was here and he’d shown up with an entire party of guests.
Chapter Eight
Dahlia heard the rumble of carriages from her room. They were far too loud to be the doctor alone. Gavin had mentioned a party. Her stomach clenched. Had it arrived?
She hadn’t asked who was coming or what the gathering was for. Was it just a party with his friends? But as the sound of female voices filtered up the hall, a great many female voices, she thought again about his offer. No wonder he’d only agreed to marry her if she faced destitution. Women were likely clamoring for his attention.
Unable to help herself, she opened her door and crept outside. Her movements were slow and heavy as she made her way toward the top of the stairs. The voices grew louder, full of laughter and excitement and she swallowed down a lump of dread.
Coming to the open banister on the landing above, she peered down, taking in the scene. Her stomach clenched. Four men, Gavin among them, stood in a ring, deep in conversation while women swirled about them, eight at least, in brightly colored dresses. Their excitement was evident in their laughter and movements and Dahlia died a little inside.
One of the women approached the men and ran her hand down Gavin’s back, her fingertips tracing his muscles. Jealousy stabbed at Dahlia’s insides. She had no right to be jealous, but it ate at her anyway. She reached for the banister, taking a deep breath.
As if he heard her, Gavin glanced up, his gaze widening the moment their eyes met. “Dahlia,” he said but his voice carried farther than he might have expected. The entire assembled party stopped and looked up at her.
A man with slick, dirty-blond hair and a hawkish nose spread in his lips in a wide, tight smile. “Oh my, how delicious. You’ve invited a guest of your own, Lord de Wolfe. Nicely done.”
Gavin started for the stairs, his long stride carrying him to the stairs two at a time, and he was at her side in a matter of seconds. He curled his fingers under her elbow, spinning her away from the rail. “You’d be more comfortable in your room.”
She wanted to challenge him. Ask him to introduce her to his friends. Jealousy had made her curious. But it wasn’t her place, she had no right. “Of course. My apologies for interrupting. I just heard voices and…”
“Dahlia,” he whispered. “You weren’t interrupting.” He stopped, now out of view of the crowd below, and brought his hand to her waist. “Those people,” he drew in a deep breath. “They aren’t mean
t for a woman like you.”
Her brow crinkled. “Aren’t meant for me?” Those men had been well dressed and the women…she let out a gasp. She realized now those dresses had revealed a great deal of skin for the afternoon hour.
His eyes closed. “I’ll explain later. For now, let’s return you to your room.” They started walking again then just as suddenly stopped. “I’ll have dinner sent up.”
Her shoulders hunched. Why did that make her feel worse? She was being banished and he…he was going to be with those women. And they were there to…her hand rose to her mouth. When had she started to care so much?
“Dahlia?” he asked, stopping in front of her door.
“Yes?” She’d lost the thread of the conversation entirely.
“Dinner?”
She couldn’t look him in the eye. He’d see all her feelings. “You brought me a tray already, remember?”
“Hellfire, I did.” He let out a growl. “I need to get rid of them post haste.”
Get rid of them? It dawned upon her that his strange behavior might not be because of her, but them. He looked exceedingly uncomfortable by the whole situation. That made her relax. “Are they your friends?”
His mouth turned down. “Once upon a time.” Then he opened her door and let go of her elbow. “Sleep well.”
Sleep? Given the whirlwind of emotions she’d just experienced, she had a feeling she’d barely sleep at all.
Gavin stalked back down to the foyer. The situation was getting worse by the minute. Nearbottom had leered at Dahlia. Leered. The pig. Gavin ignored the fact that he had likely given his fair share of lewd looks in her direction. Besides, while his intentions might not have been wholly honorable, at least he did not see the woman as a prostitute.
The man was crude. Not fit for the company of a lady. Nor were the men he’d brought with him, and certainly not the ladies.
But Nearbottom had insisted that they needed to at least spend the night before moving on and Gavin couldn’t deny him that courtesy. He’d made the journey here on Gavin’s invitation, after all. And Nearbottom had once been his friend. However misguided his attempts to help now, he was trying to help Gavin in the best way he knew how.
To Want a Rogue: De Wolfe Pack Connected World Page 5
