The Last Wicked Scoundrel (8 page)

But when he turned back to Winnie, he knew he couldn’t leave her, not like this. Nor could he tell her the truth of it. At that moment she was all that mattered. After slipping the rings into his trousers’ pocket, he walked back over to her. “It’s going to be all right.”

Lifting her in his arms, he carried her over to the bed, gently laid her down, and drew the covers over her. “Would you like me to close the windows?”

She nodded, and he marched over to them, closing one and then the other. He took a moment to peer through them.
Are you out there, you bastard?

With quickness, he drew the draperies closed. Aware of her gaze following him, he went into the bathing room, snatched up some linens, and returned to spread them over the floor beneath the windows so they could soak up the water.

As he neared the bed, he tore off his jacket, waistcoat, and cravat and tossed them on a nearby chair. After pulling off his shoes, he sat on the edge of the bed. “Winnie, you appear to be in shock. You need to be warmed. I’m going to slip beneath the covers and hold you. That’s all, just hold you. All right?”

Her eyes wide and circular, she nodded. “I’m going mad.”

“No, sweetheart, there’s an explanation for all this,” he murmured as he worked his way between the sheets and drew her near, briskly rubbing his hands up and down her back, striving to generate enough heat to stop her trembling. Her teeth were chattering. He feared he might have to wake the servants to have a warm bath prepared for her. Although he suspected she wouldn’t want the servants to see her like this. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Snuggling up against him, she burrowed her nose into the crook of his shoulder. “I was dreaming, and suddenly I began to feel as though a great weight was pressing on me and I was suffocating. I could smell Avendale as though he were wafting through the room. I don’t recall opening the windows or building the fire. Or the rings. How did they come to be here? They were locked up safe at the family estate. Could I be doing these things in my sleep?”

At least she’d stopped trembling, he was grateful for that. He slowed his hands into a gentle caress. “It’s possible I suppose. I once had a patient who would wake up in the middle of the night to find himself standing in the stables with no recollection of how he came to be there.”

She tilted her head up to hold his gaze. “Truly?”

He gave her a comforting smile. “Truly. He also was stark naked. Apparently, he removed his nightclothes before he began his trek.”

She released a little huff that was almost a laugh. “Were you able to cure him?”

“No, I couldn’t determine the cause. It wasn’t physical and there’s a good deal I don’t know about the mind.”

“Do I belong in Bedlam, do you think?”

“No, absolutely not,” he said with conviction.

She nestled her face back against his chest. “Is everything all right with the queen?”

“Yes. She ate something that upset her digestion.”

“She’s fortunate to have you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Go to sleep now. I’ll hold the monsters and nightmares at bay.”

“Yes, all right.”

He was acutely aware of her relaxing against him, her breathing slowing.

“I’ve never slept with a man in my bed before,” she said in a low voice, as though she feared disturbing him. “I rather like it. Avendale always left right afterward.”

Naturally. The man didn’t appreciate what he once possessed. “I don’t.”

“I suspected that about you.” He thought he could feel a blush warming her skin beneath his hands. “You’re always so kind.”

Her words were like a lash to his heart. If he were kind he would tell her everything right now and end her torment, only others were involved, those with whom he’d grown up, those who had saved his neck on more than one occasion. Claybourne especially. If not for him, Graves would no doubt still be on the streets or worse, dead. “Try to sleep.”

He was acutely aware of the length of her body pressed against his. One of her legs was wedged between his and he fought not to consider that her leg was bare which meant that her gown was hiked up. How far up, he couldn’t tell. At his side, her hand flinched, unfurled. Her breathing went soft, softer.

He kept his arms around her, holding her close, hoping that with his presence he could hold her fears at bay.

W
innie awoke to find William raised up on an elbow, watching her. The fire had long since gone out. With the draperies drawn, no sunlight was entering the room. The only light came from the soft glow of the lamp that he’d brought into the room with him the night before.

She wasn’t yet ready to speak, to disturb his study of her, especially as she wanted to take a few moments to enjoy the sight of him. Although his hair was blond, he had the longest, blackest eyelashes she’d ever seen. Unlike hers, his nose was straight and perfect, narrow, patrician. His chin was narrow, sharp, with the tiniest dent in the center of it. His cheekbones were high, hollowed. The bristles along his jaw were darker than she’d expected them to be. She had an insane thought that she would very much like to shave him, feel and hear the scrape of the razor over his skin.

She thought of doing things with him that she never thought of doing with Avendale. William appealed to her in ways that Avendale never had. She had cared for Avendale, had believed when she accepted his offer of marriage that she loved him, but now she could not help but wonder if perhaps she had been too young to truly recognize love, if perhaps she had simply been in love with the notion of love, or perhaps marriage. It was what girls of her station strived to accomplish: a good marriage. Or maybe he had managed to beat out her affections toward him until no remnants of her original feelings for him remained, and so she could no longer remember exactly how she had felt toward him.

“Did you sleep?” she asked William.

“I promised to keep watch,” he said with a small smile and a hoarse voice that stirred something deep inside her. It implied secret trysts. “Besides, I don’t need much sleep, and I rarely go an entire night without someone knocking on my door.”

“I can’t help but feel I’ve become quite the nuisance.”

“You haven’t. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.” He tucked his finger beneath her chin and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Are you feeling a bit more settled?”

“Somewhat. I’m quite embarrassed with the spectacle I made of myself last night.”

“You have nothing for which to be embarrassed. A nightmare can be upsetting enough without the strange occurrences you’re experiencing.”

“I just don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I think someone is striving to drive you mad.”

“But who and for what purpose?”

Turning his attention to the braid draped over her shoulder, he brushed his fingers through the loose strands at the end, seemingly mesmerized by the movements. “That I don’t know, but I’m wondering if it wouldn’t be wiser for you and your son to move into my residence.” He shifted his solemn gaze back to hers. “Just for a few days.”

She had felt so welcomed in his home, so at ease. It was there that she had come to realize the horror that her life had truly become. As she gained her strength, he allowed her to determine the menu for the meals. He never found fault with her selections. He never criticized if she spent her mornings reading or composing letters. For the first time in her life, the hours of the day became hers to do with as she pleased. He had given her glimpses of a life that didn’t encompass fear.

“I truly, truly appreciate the offer, but I’ll not be chased out of my own home. I don’t think Whit is in any danger. His governess hasn’t reported any strange goings on. All that is happening just seems directed at me. Perhaps I do have a disgruntled servant. I’ll speak with Thatcher, have him watch them a bit more closely.”

“I admire your resolve.” He traced the curve of her cheek. “But I don’t think you’ve quite recovered from last night’s misadventure. I have a morning ritual that I don’t always get to indulge in but I think it would be just the thing to chase the last of the shadows from your eyes.”

He was looking at her so intently, as though he were memorizing every line and curve of her features, every bump and every scar. His intensity had all sorts of notions racing through her mind, notions no proper lady should entertain. Morning rituals that included kissing and touching, hands on her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. She wasn’t certain she was quite ready for that, but she heard herself asking, “What sort of ritual?”

“Rowing.”

She blinked in surprise. Was that what the lower classes called it? She supposed she could see that, but not quite. And he might have once been ensconced among the dregs of society, but he had risen above that to a respected—and, in her mind at least—an exalted position. Surely he no longer used such crude references. She licked her lips. “What exactly does it entail?”

“A boat, oars, the Thames.”

“Oh, you mean actual rowing?”

With a grin, he skimmed his finger along the bridge of her nose. “What did you think I was alluding to?”

She was going to embarrass herself by admitting the truth. “Exactly what you said.” She was intrigued. “You truly go rowing in the morning?”

“Whenever I can before breakfast.”

Glancing over at the clock, she realized it was much earlier than she thought. “It must still be dark out.”

“It won’t be by the time we get there. Come with me. I think you’ll find it’s a refreshing way to begin the day.”

She thought doing anything with him would be a lovely way to start the day. “Yes, all right.”

W
ith her pelisse folded closely around her, Winnie sat in the rowboat and watched in fascination as William worked the oars in a steady rhythm that caused the boat to glide smoothly over the water. She had looked in on Whit before she left, and he’d been sleeping soundly. On Winnie’s orders the day before, the governess had left the door to her apartments open so she could hear Whit if anything was amiss. Not that anything seemed to be. The fragrance of caraway seeds had faded, and she was questioning whether or not it had ever been there.

Forcing the worries from her mind, she concentrated on enjoying her outing. Wisps of light fog along the bank were beginning to burn off as the sky lightened from black to gray. The scent of last night’s rain was still heavy on the air.

Once she was settled in the boat, William removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, took the oars in hand, and set off. No leisurely rowing. His forearms revealed corded muscles, and she understood now the breadth of his shoulders, the firmness of his chest.

“Whatever possessed you to take up this sport?” she asked.

“One of Victoria’s advisors begins his day in a similar manner, and mentioned it to me. I’ve discovered an hour of strenuous activity clears my mind of its cobwebs. Sometimes, when I’m faced with a medical problem or dilemma, I find the solution will often come to me when I’m out here. I become lost in the exertion and it frees up my mind.”

He stopped rowing, and they coasted to a stop. She became aware of the quiet and the solitude, absolute solitude as she’d never experienced it.

Sliding from the bench, he sat with his back to it and extended a hand to her. “Come here, sit with your back to me. Just move carefully so you don’t tip us over.”

The boat wobbled as she very slowly eased down and turned so she was nestled between his legs, her back pressed to his chest. He slid his arms around her, holding her near, and the heat of his body seeped through the layers of her clothes to create marvelous radiating warmth.

“Watch the sky,” he said in a low voice near her ear.

Leaning against him, tilting her head back slightly, she was acutely aware of his cheek resting against hers. Above the trees lining the banks, the sky was deep orange and pink with dark blue swirling through it. The clouds seemed luminescent.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sunrise,” she whispered with reverence.

“It’s my understanding that most ladies stay abed until late morning.”

“It does seem to be our habit. Oh, it’s beautiful, isn’t it? Magnificent.”

They gazed in silence for several long moments. She relished his nearness, his holding her. She’d never been held simply for the pleasure of being held. There was comfort in it, an easing of loneliness without words. It was so peaceful. She was glad that William had stopped. Her soul needed these moments.

“It rather fills me with wonder,” she told him. “It’s a lovely way to begin the day. Have you always enjoyed the sunrise?”

“When I was on my own, before I crossed paths with Feagan, I was a mudlark.”

While she had only seen them from afar, she knew the term was applied to children who scrounged through the muddy banks of the Thames searching for washed up items to sell. It seemed a rather bleak existence. But she heard no play for sympathy in his voice. He spoke of his past as though it were truly in his past, as though it no longer had any influence on his life, and she wondered how he had achieved that end. She suspected that Avendale and his treatment of her would always manage to have some hold over her.

“I would go out while it was still dark,” he continued, “hoping to beat the other children to the prize collections for the day. The sky would begin to lighten, the fog would dissipate, and the sun would start to make its presence known. I would look up and think, ‘How can there be such beauty up there, when everything down here is so gray?’ It gave me hope that I would find something better someday.”

“Have you?”

“I have no right to complain when I deal with the sick and infirmed, and am constantly reminded that I have a good deal for which to be thankful.” He nuzzled her neck. “But sometimes, I do find myself wishing for more.”

Turning her slightly, he took her mouth, his tongue delving deeply, his hand cradling the back of her head, his arm bracing her spine as he leaned her over. Even knowing that he held her secure, that he wouldn’t let her fall, she clutched at his shirt, knotting her fingers around the cloth. In the distance, she was aware of the day beginning for many, the rattle of carriage wheels, the yells of those doing business out in the open, yet she gave no thought to the fact that someone might see her in this precarious position. She should mind that he brazenly kissed her out here where all the world could see, but no one she knew would be about. Ladies and most gents were still abed. They missed the sunrise, they missed the peace and quiet of the morning starting anew.