He's No Prince Charming (Ever After) (10 page)

“The sheet will absorb most of the water. And once I build a fire, the heat will take care of the rest,” he evaded.

Swiftly, her anger returned. He recognized the reaction was one of concern. “I do not need you getting sick, Fleetwood. I promise you I make a terrible nurse.”

“I shall be fine. I have a stronger constitution than you, little one.”

She snorted. Ignoring her, he dried himself, as she muttered, “Of all the arrogant, male statements to make.”

Throwing the soggy sheet to an abandoned corner of the room, he moved towards a broken stool, seeking wood for a fire. Leaning it back on its rear legs, he exposed the upper two to the air. With a swift kick, he broke one of the legs free. A loud bang sounded against the floor. A shriek escaped Danni. Marcus reacted instantly.

He dived at her, bringing them both crashing to the ground. He cradled her in his arms, protecting her from the worst of any potential impact, his gaze flitting frantically about the room. He couldn’t catch his breath as he positioned himself on top of her, forming a human shield. It was a position he had not been forced to use in years. Not since Caro had been safely removed from their father’s house.

“Fleetwood?”

The corners were dark. Nothing moved. From his past he knew that didn’t mean danger wasn’t lurking.

“Fleetwood!”

His gaze landed on the upturned wooden bowl. The collected water stained the wooden floor and frayed, Persian carpet. Next to it lay the leg he’d broken off the stool to use as firewood.

“Marcus!”

Dimly, he registered pressure against his chest. He glanced down, eyes colliding with Danni’s. Her expression held surprise and a bit of fear. He realized what he’d done and, infuriatingly, shame crept up to heat his face. If she had not thought him a monster before, she must now.

He dropped his head, searching for an excuse for his behavior. He avoided crowds and public places for this reason. He never knew what he would react to.

The longer Marcus remained above her, the more his fear receded and the more he became aware of her soft body beneath his. Their legs tangled together among the bedsheet, their hips fitted together perfectly, her breasts cushioned his chest. Her breathing matched his in a deep, calm rhythm. The warmth of her body mingled with his, smooth skin and scents combined into a heady mix that hazed his thinking. He muzzled his face deep into the heat of her neck, lingering in the contentment he found there, suddenly, utterly incapable of raising his head. He dreaded the disgust he would find in her eyes.

A moment’s stillness from her encouraged him to peek up, careful to hide the worst of his marred face. He could see Danni’s confusion slowly recede. Her cheeks turned the dull red he loved, her eyes softened. Soft, small hands came to rest on his shoulders, palms heating his skin. She shifted beneath him, brushing her thigh against his groin. He couldn’t breathe, his heart pounding in his ears. “Do not move, little one.”

Her brow knit. “Why?”

With supreme effort, he reined in his raging emotions. He breathed deeply into her neck again, lips barely grazing her sensitive skin. A race of shivers cascaded down his back. “You’re ruining my already shaky control.”

“Oh.” Pink lips parted in surprise. Then her hands caressed his shoulders, rubbing in a circular pattern. “We are safe. No need to worry.” She shushed, and then whispered, “Does this help?”

Absolutely not.

His lust roared to life. His skin tingled and tightened at her touch. He could barely breathe. Her body cradled him perfectly. “Er, a little.”

Marcus felt her smile, and imagined how it would have lit her caramel eyes. Her hands moved steadily lower. In that heartbeat, he wished he could read her thoughts.

“Marcus?” Her voice was soft, thick, husky. He savored the way she said his given name. Longed to hear it on her lips every day.

“Hmm?” He reluctantly lifted his head.

Her features were gentle and flushed. Softly, she said, “You are quite heavy. Can you remove yourself now? Please.”

Shame returned with a vengeance. He rolled to the side and avoided looking directly at her. Running a hand through his hair, he wished desperately for a drink—he’d never craved one more.

He was an utter fool. Not only had he crushed her to the floor because of his damned nerves, he’d actually thought—for a moment…

Shaking his head to clear it of ludicrous fantasies, he rose to his feet, and Danni quickly followed. He tried to hide his face, but her head tilted to follow him, her gaze curious and considering. He despised such close scrutiny.

He used the first excuse that leaped to mind. “My apologies. I…I don’t know…I thought the roof may have been collapsing, or that the floor gave way.” He cleared his throat, avoiding her gaze, “I thought you were in danger and…I just wanted you…safe.”

Tension hung in the air. From the corner of his eye, he saw Danni slowly nod and move a bit farther away. “I’m fine. I was surprised by the wood breaking.”

“I see,” he murmured.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, he collected the chair leg from the floor to fuel the fire and resumed his task. It wasn’t until the first sparks grew to small flames that Danni finally spoke. Her voice was even. Almost too calm. He’d thought she would rant and rave, insisting an immediate return to civilization. Instead, she carried on as if nothing had happened. “Next time, warn someone you’re going to break a chair. It startled me.”

Marcus was far too stunned to respond. She’d swept his inexcusable and inexplicable behavior away, as if with a flick of her delicate wrist.

He worked intently to build the fire to a rage inside the cluttered hearth, then settled back against the bricks surrounding the fireplace. Warmth spread across his back, drying his clothes. He rested his head against the wall in exhaustion, stress from the disaster he had created causing a pounding in his skull and his vision to blur. He tried to crush the bubbling memories of his father’s condemnation and failed. How his father would revel in this dismal failure.

His past crashed upon him. He began to tremble violently, limbs weakening and most assuredly unable to support him. Perspiration broke across his brow and his skin felt unbearably tight and hot. Hell was approaching, clawing at the back of his mind.

The rustle of drapery, accompanied by the soft patter of naked feet, marked Danni’s arrival by his side. Closing his eyes at the dizziness, he focused on the heat seeping through his body. He must be strong. He could not let Danni witness the pitiful creature he would devolve into. Her worried whisper echoed in the flickering darkness of the fire.

“Do you think they have…hurt…Ginny?”

Guilt clenched his gut. “No, of course not. She is worth more ransom if she is unharmed.”

But they both knew it to be untrue. The admiral would pay any price to have her back, in any condition. Marcus would swear he could hear his father’s taunting laugher from hell.

“I hope Philip has been helped, or he located shelter.”

Marcus smiled weakly in her direction. She was far too kind to worry about that man. “You are exhausted, little one. Don’t waste your worry on the likes of him. His type always finds a way. There is nothing to be done to help either of them ’til morning. Sleep now so we’ll have energy for tomorrow.”

Despite his words, guilt tore into the fragile control he grasped. Phillip’s well-being was his responsibility as well.

Unaware of his turmoil, she nodded reluctantly, bedding down a few feet away before the fire. In the silence, he listened to her breath deepen and slow. He watched her as she fell asleep. Mahogany tresses splayed out around her, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the fire. His stomach curled with envy at the rich reds and golds weaving along her arms and shoulders, longing to wrap it through his fingers instead. His hands clenched and his throat tightened. The silken caress of the single strand he’d touched in the forest was forever engraved upon his mind. Sadness engulfed him. She was everything he dreamed of, yet would never have.

He could just make out the reddened shadow on her cheek from the slap of that tree branch. He hadn’t lied to her. The branch had slipped, but he couldn’t resist teasing her when it had. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth at her remembered outrage.

Again, he swept his gaze over her deliciously curved frame, noting how her head rested on one arm and her knee rose to her chest beneath the blanket. If only…if only he met her under different circumstances. If only his father had not written that codicil. His father… his father still controlled him, even after all these years. Ironically, in his attempt to escape his father—dead a year now—he had completely ruined his own life, Ginny’s, Danni’s, and perhaps Phillip’s. And he’d also failed to save Caro.

Staring into the flames, his fist tightened, and he was afraid he’d become engulfed by the endless black pit of dark images lurking beneath the surface of his life. He ran a hand through his hair. Sleep eluded him and his stomach ached with hunger, but what he really wanted was a drink—brandy, whiskey,
anything
. Something to slide with quiet fire down his throat and unfurl in his belly. Something warming and numbing. Deadening.

The world shifted again.

Damn.

He was losing the fight. Hell would soon envelop him and he’d be trapped for hours in the horrors of his past. How he wished Weller were here. He’d know what to do. How to hide this weakness from Danni.

Groaning softly, his eyes shuttered closed and his mind swallowed him whole.

A strange whimpering jolted Danni from her sleep. She blinked several times to clear her eyes while scanning the growing shadows in fear. Had some sort of animal been attracted by their dying fire?

Seeing nothing, she turned over, nearer the fire. Her eyes were closed, but her ears remained alert. She heard only the continuous chime of rain outside on the forest canopy. And against the leaky roof above them. The soothing pattern lulled her back to the cusp of sleep.

Another whimper. This one closely followed by a low, keening moan of pain.

Danni sat up. The keening came again. Surprised, she turned towards Marcus to wake him. What use was a large man like him if he did not beat away the beasties?

A cry unlike anything she’d ever heard erupted, bounding about the room. Danni shrank back as a trill of fear raised the hair on the back of her neck. Gathering her courage, she reached towards him. The shape she thought was Marcus shifted. He writhed on the ornate rug. Another pained sound quickly followed. She gasped when she realized it was no animal making those inhuman sounds.

Gurgling with panic and unsure what to do, she scrambled to the pile of wood before the fire. Stoking the embers into an inferno, she sought to examine Marcus better. His lids rippled with the rapid movement of his eyes, his face was gaunt and beaded with sweat. His body seized with violent trembling. With a stunned sob, she sneaked past his flailing limbs.

“You’d better be faking, Marcus Bradley.” She pressed her hand to his sticky forehead.

He was burning.

M
arcus?” Her voice wavered. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I’m a terrible nurse.”

Moving closer, she attempted to shake him awake. “Marcus! Do not make me read Fordyce’s
Sermons
to you.”

She’d not expected him to wake up. Truly. Well, maybe a little.

Danni bit her lip, not sure what to do. He should have changed his wet clothing when she had suggested it. But no, he had to be stubborn, and now a fever had a firm grip on him. She’d helped Annabel when Hu contracted a cold, but she’d never cared for someone truly ill. She did not even have her own experience with doctors to draw on, having never been sick enough to require one. She’d thought she’d been fortunate to have an excellent constitution. Until now.

“What would Annabel do?” she muttered, casting about frantically. Her eyes landed on the threadbare sheet. “Right. A compress.”

Snatching up the damp sheet, she found a frayed end and tore. The soaked fabric held tightly and ripped only with great effort. She threw the one strip she managed to separate into the broken bowl and left it slightly outside the leaning door to catch water. Returning to Marcus, she threw her thick covering over him, ignoring a sudden chill and the naked feeling of her shift. However, Marcus was far too sick to notice and needed it much, much more.

What next?

Whenever Hu fell ill, Annabel made him stay in a heated room. Danni couldn’t stop the draft, but she could keep the fire roaring. She searched for more wood. Without Marcus’s strength to break furniture she had few options. He’d broken a large pile of furniture already for the fire, but Danni feared it would run out. Already, the fire could use another log.

She considered searching for more outside, but she had only her shift, and with the rain still slamming against the roof, it was doubtful she would find dry wood and was more likely to make herself sick as well. Desperate, her gaze fell on the bed. The sound of Marcus’s increasing tremors launched her into action.

Feeling the mattress, hope burst within her. The long strands of straw poked her skin when she squeezed it. With a tug, the mattress from the ornate bed fell to the floor. She scanned the seam, looking for an opening to widen and release the straw. Her search resulted in nothing. She could rip it with her teeth, but the idea was revolting. She hadn’t a clue where the mattress had been. The thought of it near her mouth…Ick.

Another wail, higher than the last, drew her attention. Marcus lay curled in a ball, his chin tucked into his chest as he trembled violently.

Danni bit down on the mattress.

She ground the thin thread between her teeth. Her mouth hurt and the fabric tasted terrible, leaving her mouth filled with gritty cotton. It was so horrible she paused. Why was she trying so hard to save the man who had made her a criminal?

She could not lie. She knew exactly why she wanted to save him. She cast her gaze in his direction. Her heart ached for him. She believed he was a good man. A man with flaws and an unknown, dark past that still clung tight to him. He drove her crazy, but she had to admit to herself that she liked it. He made her feel alive—noticed. After so many years of benign neglect from her father, she craved attention. Wasn’t that really the reason she was planning to accept the Earl of Hemsworth’s marriage offer?

But Marcus was different. She wanted to know—no, needed to know—what drove this man.

Danni pulled at a loosened thread in the mattress cover. It ripped with a gratifying sound. She worked the hole bigger, until her fist could fit inside and pull a handful of crisp straw free. With determined triumph, she pulled the mattress closer to the fire and tossed several handfuls into the flames. The fire flared before quickly burning the golden threads black. It wouldn’t last, but if she could alternate between wood and straw, it might hold out until the rain stopped.

Going back to the door, she retrieved the bowl. The fabric was soaked through and cool water had collected at the bottom. Perfect. Dropping at his side, she pulled the blanket tighter around Marcus’s writhing form and grasped his hand to reassure him he was not alone. His lips moved, shaping soundless words. She leaned closer with the hope he’d tell her everything would be fine.

“…Caroline. Must save…” She drew back in shock. Who was Caroline? A lover? Could she arrange for them to be together so he could give up on Ginny? Her throat tightened at the image of Marcus with another woman. What was wrong with her? She was engaged! Well…almost.

Frantically, she tried to put a face to the name from her social circles in the
ton
. She ignored the rush of relief when she remembered Marcus had an estranged sister by that name. If her memory was correct, she resided with the old and rather eccentric St. Leon family. But what was this about saving her? From what? Frustrated she didn’t have the answers, she leaned in to listen again.

“…No,” he whimpered, clutching tightly at her hand, “Please, Father…not the whip. Please…”

Danni fell back on her heels. What on earth was he seeing in his fevered state? His agonized whisper…that heart-wrenching, eye-burning tone…

Deep breaths. You are getting much too worked up. He’s sick and you’ve never done this before. Deep, calming breaths.

She grabbed one of the wet cloths from the bowl, wrung it out, and placed it on his head. With another, she lightly washed his face and neck, hoping to cool him down. His hand suddenly closed on a fistful of her shift. Danni’s gaze shot to his face. His green eyes were glazed with fever, the whites lined with red. Her Marcus wasn’t there.

Cold, stark fear welled in her throat. Was Marcus simply rambling from a fevered mind? Or was this some other sort of sickness of the mind? Had she just glimpsed into the past of the Beast? Despite the awful possibilities that his rants were true, she wanted to know more. The Marcus she knew exasperated her and made her laugh. The world saw a sharp, defensive, and angry version of the Marquis of Fleetwood. This Marcus was vulnerable, terrified, and broken.

She placed her hand over his again, attempting to calm him with her presence. His heated, trembling flesh seared her. It felt hotter than anything the fire next to her could produce. He needed a doctor, but Danni did not know where to find one.

“I’m right here, Marcus.” His grasping hand released the fabric of her shift and threaded with hers, holding to her like a lifeline.

His voice was soft and hoarse as he spoke. “Little one.”

Her heart flipped. She hated the condescending manner he typically used when he spoke that name, and yet suddenly she found it reassuring. He knew she was there for him. She squeezed his hand before adding straw to the fire.

A violent tremor traveled up his hand. His eyes closed halfway, another groan forced from his lips. “Don’t leave me, little one.”

She gulped, her eyes strangely watering as she breathed, “Never.”

And she meant it.

Fiery, soul-burning determination she’d never felt before stole over her. She didn’t know much about this man, but one thing was for sure—she was going to make sure he knew life wasn’t meant to be lived lost in those shadows of the past.

Crawling closer, she rested his head in her lap. Giving in to temptation and seeking to calm him, her hands stroked the silkiness of his hair. Another whimper escaped him, but he uncurled his body. Biting her lip, she brushed a curl from his forehead, unable to resist the lure to glide her fingers along the length of its loop. His body relaxed and his breathing slowed.

She slipped her fingers lightly down his brow, smoothing the lines of pain. Despite the heat climbing her cheeks from embarrassment, another heat simmered low in her tummy.

She’d felt that same sensation briefly when Marcus had pinned her to the floor. Her surprise at his sudden reaction was quickly overwhelmed by the heaviness of him upon her, his body pressing hers deep into the carpet. Every contour of his hard body had besieged her senses. She had flushed under his gaze; her body ached to have his hands where his eyes explored. His first instinct had been to protect her. That knowledge eased any fear she might have had at his sudden possession of her.

Without thinking, her fingers glided along the scar marring his left brow. She hesitated, wondering if she really should be touching the marred skin. He hid the scars from her if she looked at him too long, as if her examination was a precursor to disgust. Even in Marcus’s current state, she feared he would rise up in self-hate at her touch.

She decided to brave his wrath. He fascinated her. She wanted to know everything about him, including what had caused his scars. Had he gotten them in a fight? Or perhaps it was some childhood mishap?

She followed the surprisingly smooth scar at his eye and shifted to the largest one on the right side of his face. Her hand filled with softness. In his sleep, Marcus turned his face into her palm. His whiskers rasped against her skin while the heat of his breath skirted across her wrist. Her heart fluttered, and the heat in her tummy spread lower, burned warmer.

Danni’s gaze drifted to the longest scar—it angled up from his chin and stopped right before hitting his full, lower lip. Without thinking, her finger followed her gaze. She held her breath as the tip skimmed across his lower lip. The memory of his dimpled smile made her pause. She did not feel the dimple in his kiss along her neck. Would she feel it if she were kissed on the lips by him? She knew the answers to these questions. The Beast’s intensity would overwhelm and control her. His vulnerability would break her defenses.

Her face heated with such shameful thoughts. She knew she should stop touching him in this way. She should not be thinking of a sick man—more important, a kidnapper—as a passionate lover. She breathed in shallow, silent breaths, fearful he would waken and catch her taking such liberties with his person. Her free hand pressed against the pounding heat growing in her core. The other caught on his stubbled jaw. The rough texture sent a jolt through her arm and straight through her body. Her teeth bit harder on her lip to smother a gasp.

The fire cracked as a log fell, breaking the spell. Danni quickly but gently placed Marcus’s head back on the floor to add another log to the fire. She threw on an extra handful of straw. She paced restlessly in front of the flames, taking deep gulps of air. She needed to clear her head.

The man may possess a gentleness he kept well hidden, but she could not forget that he had coldly orchestrated the kidnapping of an innocent girl, whom he still planned to force into marriage in order to gain access to a fortune, for whatever reason. He thought her a cheat and a pest, herself a fortune hunter in her own way, bilking young heiresses by assisting them to elope against their parents’ wishes. Her soft feelings for him amounted to nothing when compared to those cold realities.

Rubbing her face fiercely, she tried to physically erase her thoughts. The two of them were allies only until they recovered Ginny. The moment she was back in their possession, the truce would be broken. His intentions would not change and hers would not either. She and Ginny were going back to London, both with their reputations and fortunes still intact.

Crawling back to the mattress on the floor, she faced the flames, watching them dance their shadowed play. Being so close to him made her lose sight of what was truly important. She shut her eyes the moment Marcus started thrashing again. Incoherent pleas for mercy and help started soon after. She covered her ears, trying to block out the sounds. She wanted to ignore them, to let him suffer as a beast should, but her eyes opened of their own accord, colliding with his reddened ones across the way.
Leave him be, leave him be.…

But, in the end, she stood, moving back across the fire. Fortifying herself against any soft feelings and justifying her actions as common human compassion, she sat beside him and held his clammy hand. As he calmed, she found herself lying next to him, making sure the cooling cloth was in place. Her head rested on his outstretched arm and her eyes slowly drifted shut.

Sunlight slipped across his lids, creating a haze of yellows and reds. The sound of England’s morning birds filled his ears with their happy songs. A cool breeze freshened by yesterday’s rain filled the room.

A beautiful morning.

And Marcus felt like hell.

But thank God it was over. He had survived the night, as he had hundreds of times before.

But he needed a drink. Badly.

Everything hurt. His clenching muscles, his bones, even his teeth. Groaning, he shifted closer to the source of heat at his side and wrapped his arms about it. He filled his lungs, expecting the scent of fresh rain drying in the sun, but the familiar scent of roses brought his gritty eyes bursting open.

Wrapped in his arms was Danni. Her body curled into him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her soft breath slipping over his skin and sending shivers through his spine. He didn’t know how she’d started on the other side of the fire and ended up in his arms, but she couldn’t stay there. She’d be furious if she woke up next to him like this.

Glancing around, he noticed several things out of place. The straw mattress was torn open near the fire, half its contents now missing. The wood he’d piled near the fire was gone, the stack now ashes in the hearth, and the broken bowl they’d used for drinking water now contained a damp rag. He also noticed the blanket and thick bedcover had been draped over both of them.

What had Danni witnessed last night? He groaned with regret, rolling to his back to wring his hair. She had seen him at his worst. Ugly face, ugly behavior, and now she’d seen his ugly soul.

Marcus needed some distance. Ignoring the pain that seemed to crack his skull, he removed his arm from her scantily clad waist and attempted to lift her head from the other. A soft mewl of protest escaped her lips. Fearing he’d wake her, he lowered her head back. Danni shifted, snuggling closer still. The weight of her body pressed against his groin. He hissed against the pleasure coursing through him. How long had it been since he’d slept with a woman? No, when was the last time he’d awoken to one beside him?