The Trouble With Virtue: A Comfortable Wife\A Lady by Day (40 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A
T
HIS
HOUSE
, she raced up the stairs to Elias’s bedroom, no longer caring who saw her cloak and nightclothes. Nobody would know where she’d been anyhow.

“What’s happened?” she asked, rushing into the room.

Elias’s physician was already there. Elias lay in the bed, his face a ghastly red and purple against the linens.

“A gang of street toughs,” the physician said gravely. “A kind soul found Mr. Woodbridge lying in an alley on the Strand and brought him home.”

Elias writhed in the bed and groaned something unintelligible. Josephine grasped his hand and pressed her lips to his forehead. “I’m here, Elias. I’m here.” Her throat felt so thick it was difficult to speak.

“The damage is mostly to his head and torso,” the physician told her. “I would be lying if I told you his prognosis was hopeful.”

The news took the strength from her knees and she sagged against the edge of the bed. She clutched his hand for long, heartrending moments, offering up silent prayers.

Finally, the physician murmured at her side, “Forgive me, but I must finish tending to him.”

“Of course.” She made herself let go of Elias’s hand and step out of the way, but still each breath was an effort—until Noah finally strode into the room, and she saw the fear on his face, and suddenly she felt less alone.

One look at Elias and Noah cursed violently. “I’ll kill whoever did this.”

Josephine watched through eyes that swam with tears while the physician gave Noah the details and showed him the worst of the injuries. And then Noah turned to Josephine. Their eyes held, and then she was in his arms, weeping on his shoulder. She felt his lips against her hair, his heartbeat beneath her ear, his hand moving in slow circles across her back.

He was so strong, so sure. So real.

And he was leaving. The truth of it ripped her nearly as raggedly as her fear for Elias.

Finally, the physician turned to them and said he’d done all he could. “Summon me if things take a turn for the worse,” he said, and left them alone with Elias.

“I must send a note to the girls to let them know what’s happened,” Josephine said after they’d stood watching Elias for what seemed like an eternity—still in each other’s arms, as if it was the most natural place in the world at a time such as this.

“There’s no reason to wake them,” he murmured into her hair. “You can send a note in the morning.”

He was right. Waking them now would only frighten them.

Noah’s arms tightened around her, strong and safe, holding her as if he would never let her go. The taste of their lovemaking still lingered on her tongue. Her body felt steeped in the fullness of his touch. And her heart—

God help her, her heart ached for everything it couldn’t have, because being in Noah’s arms
was
the most natural place in the world. Because she loved him.

She
loved
him.

As if her own thoughts mocked her, Noah chose that moment to release her. “Here,” he said, guiding her to a chair near Elias’s bed. “There’s no reason for you to stand.”

No reason, except the only place she wanted to be was in his arms. But she sat, hardly daring to look at him. “Thank you.”

“Do you need anything?” he asked gravely.

You. I need you.

She reached for Elias’s still hand. “Tea would be nice.”

“Of course. I’ll call for some now.”

* * *

W
AITING
BY
E
LIAS
’
S
bedside gave Noah far too much time to think.

About that Turkish shipyard. About Elias. About London, and all the reasons he’d come. The reasons why, if Elias hadn’t been beaten, he would have been two days gone.

About Josephine, and the way she’d felt in his arms, and the fact that even if he could sink himself into her every day for the rest of his life, it wouldn’t be enough.

By the third day, Elias’s breathing had steadied. His slumber grew more peaceful. That morning, the physician announced he was all but certain Elias would live.

Elias would live.

Noah exhaled sharply and left the room. Across the hall, in the room he’d been occupying for a few odd naps the past three days, Noah leaned against the wall and let the full weight of what that meant sink in. He stood there for long minutes before Josephine’s voice came from the doorway.

“Noah?”

He hadn’t bothered to close the door, and now Josephine came in. She stopped when she saw him leaning there. Just the sight of her turned his blood to fire.

“The physician says a nurse should be hired,” she told him.

They could discuss nurses later. Now, after three days of hell, he needed release. “Come here,” he said roughly.

For a moment he didn’t think she would. But then she came toward him, and a heartbeat later he had her in his arms and he was kissing her and kicking the door shut behind them.

The kiss turned wild in an instant, like a squall that blew up out of nowhere. He touched her everywhere—her breasts, her waist, her hips—or as much of any of them as he could fill his hands with given the devilish barrier of stays and panniers and petticoats. He needed
her.
Josephine. And not the guarded, cautious Josephine—the one who lived inside all that, who lit up when she saw his villa and had dared to seek him out on his ship.

Her touch drove him mad. She clutched his shoulders, ran her hands down his back, gripped his buttocks. Ah, God— He picked her up and carried her to the bed. Pushed her skirts awkwardly to her waist while he invaded her mouth—damnation, she tasted like heaven—and worked the placket on his breeches. And then—

Yes.
Yes.

He was pushing into her as far as he could go, needing to go even deeper. Be even closer. He pulled back and thrust again, again, again, but God—
God—
this was as close as they could be. It wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been enough the other night, and it wouldn’t be enough now. It couldn’t be. He wanted all of her, wanted to melt into her. He felt her clutching him, clinging to him, heard her whimpers and soft cries, and knew she was nearing release.

And
dam
...
na
...
tion
he let himself fire like a cannon into her.

And then he lay on top of her, gasping for air, while the last pulses of her release shuddered around him. He looked down at her, into those hazel eyes he never wanted to look away from. At those lips he would never in ten lifetimes grow tired of kissing. And he knew, right then and there, that he was in love.

With Josephine, Countess of Mareck.

With Joseph Bentley, thwarter of plans.

It should have made his next words easier. “I’ve decided to stay in London,” he told her.

She touched her fingertips to his lips. “Until Elias has recovered. Of course.”

“No.” The words should not have been this difficult to say. “Permanently.”

He felt her tense beneath him. “Noah, no.”

It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “No?”

Now she was struggling to sit up, alarm in her eyes. “You can’t. You
mustn’t.
”

He rolled off of her. “I realize you fear my influence on Elias—”

“But you
despise
London.” She sat up in a pile of skirts and petticoats.

“There are more important things to consider, under the circumstances.” He got up and fastened his breeches. His decision, now that he’d spoken it aloud, squeezed his chest so hard it felt as though he was suffocating.

“But your villa—”

“Has had caretakers these past five years. It can have caretakers for five more. Or ten.” He couldn’t let himself think about that, so he reached for his jacket. “By then I’ll have experience running the shipyard here.”

“But will your opportunity still be there?”

“There will be other opportunities. Elias, on the other hand... There’s no telling how much more opportunity I shall have with him. I can go back to the Med after—” After Elias was gone. “Later.” He reached for his greatcoat. “I must go. I’d like to return before dark.”

“Go where?”

“To make an offer on Mays Abbey.”

“Mays Abbey!” She took a step forward. “For heaven’s sake, Noah, there’s no need for that. Elias is better off here for now, and once he’s recovered we can talk with him about where he’ll be most comfortable.”

“As you pointed out, Mays Abbey can be made quite comfortable. At least it will give him an option other than London.”

“No. No, this isn’t right. You can’t simply walk away from everything you—”

“Enough.”
The word came out more sharply than he’d intended, but he couldn’t take another minute of this. “I’m staying in London, and that’s the end of it.”

* * *

J
OSEPHINE
WATCHED
HIM
shrug into his greatcoat. He could not do this. He didn’t belong here. His heart, his passion—they were in Turkey. At his villa, in the shipyard he dreamed of.

She’d made a mistake. Such a fearful, dreadful mistake, and somehow she had to fix it before he sacrificed everything he loved because she hadn’t had the courage to let go of Elias.

To embrace herself.

A wild idea formed in her mind and before she had time to think better of it she said, “Then give me leave to make use of your villa myself.”

He froze with his hands gripping his lapels. “What?”

Her heart beat so hard she was certain he would see her shaking. “I should very much like to live there.”

“
Live
there.”

Recklessly she added, “With Pauline.”

“Pauline?”

“And Elias, as soon as he’s able to travel.” She drew in a breath, steadied herself. Smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, even as her body still throbbed and ached from the love they’d just made on the bed behind her. “In fact, perhaps you would be so good as to allow the three of us the use of your ship. I shall hire a master to sail us to Turkey and return the ship to you here.”

“The hell you will.” He yanked his greatcoat into place and came toward her.

She held his gaze and raised her chin. “I do hope you will forgive me for not accompanying you to Mays Abbey. There are a hundred arrangements to be made if I am to leave London. And
do
keep me apprised of any developments—it would seem you will be purchasing Mays Abbey for yourself, and I wish you every happiness and comfort there.”

His eyes were blue fire now as he closed in on her with determined steps. “What the devil are you saying, Josephine?”

The last step brought him so close she could see the full battle of emotions raging in his eyes—anger, resignation, hope. Close enough to feel the tension coming off him in waves.

“I think I’ve made myself clear.”

“Oh, yes,” he drawled. “Immensely.” Close enough she could feel the whisper of his words against her lips.

“You are free to do as you wish,” she managed. “I shan’t stand in your way again.”

Her heart broke, looking into his eyes, imagining him living in London, huddled in his greatcoat against the drizzly rain he hated so much, ferrying about in chairs and coaches instead of sailing gloriously free on the sunny deck of his ship.

She wouldn’t stand in his way, never again. Tears pricked her eyes. She loved Noah Rutledge too much to watch him deny himself.

“And if what I wish is to stay here?” he asked sharply.

“Then you are a fool.”

“And if my wish is to return to Turkey?”

Do you love him enough to go with him yourself?
Everything inside her seemed to slow, until her thoughts became still and the only thing in the world was Noah, standing in front of her with raw hope in his eyes.

“In that case, it is my understanding—” she could scarcely breathe the words “—that there is an appalling lack of concubines at your villa.”

He stared at her. “Indeed there is.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Am I to understand that you fancy a stay in the Mediterranean playing mistress to me?”

No. She wanted—she
needed—
a Mediterranean life with him as her husband. But he hadn’t so much as hinted at anything like that, so she said, “It might be an amusing diversion.”

His eyes flashed. “Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Joseph. If you come with me, it will be as my wife, and you won’t be sleeping in any bloody harem. You will be in my bed. With me.”

“That would also be acceptable.”

He stared. “It would?”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” God in heaven. He was. “Are you accepting?”

She stared at him, hardly daring to believe this was happening.

“Yes,” she breathed, and he closed her fiercely in his embrace. She put her arms around him and spoke against his lips. “Yes, Noah. I’m accepting with all my heart. And I can’t wait for the entire world to hear about it.”

EPILOGUE

J
OSEPHINE
STOOD
AT
the edge of the courtyard in the dappled evening sun, beneath a canopy of ancient olive trees overlooking the terraces that led to the turquoise sea below. She gripped the stone railing and tipped her head back, letting the warm wind caress her face and the railing press against her gently rounding belly.

“Pauline.” The deep voice came from the direction of the villa behind her. “If you keep giving Bentley bits of that sweet cake, he’s going to be ill.”

“I can’t help it, Uncle Noah. He makes such an adorable face when he eats the sticky part. But don’t worry—I only gave him a few tiny pieces. Come here, Bentley. Let us read what Lettie has to say.”

Josephine heard footsteps behind her, felt a pair of strong hands settle at her waist. Noah brushed his lips across her temple and let his face linger against hers as they looked out at the water—a deep, blue harbor edged by a ribbon of pale soil that disappeared beneath a carpet of green. “Aniqa is finally asleep,” he said. “I can’t seem to tear myself away when she keeps calling ‘Papa.’”

“Especially when she’s got your shirt in her fists,” Josephine teased, and turned to watch the breeze toy with his hair. “She doesn’t want to be separated from you any more than I do.”

Noah smiled into her eyes, and the thoughts playing in his wicked gaze were meant for her alone. Then he looked past her to the water. “No sign of it yet,” he said.

“It will be here.”

“Lettie’s letter says Mr. Crumley has finally married,” Pauline reported from the bench where she sat with Bentley. “A Miss Davinia Wentley. Auntie Josephine, do you know her?”

“Davinia? Why, yes—she’s Lady Orville’s granddaughter.”

Noah leaned a hip against the railing and looked over at Pauline, even as he drew lazy designs on the back of Josphine’s hand with his finger. “No regrets on that score, I trust?” he called to Pauline.

Josephine glanced over her shoulder in time to see Pauline look up from the letter and give him a look of mock severity. “None at all. I can scarcely recall what he looks like. Marriage is not for everyone, you know.”

Noah laughed, deep and rich, and just then Elias came out of the villa. “What’s so damned amusing out here?”

“I do believe our Pauline has taken a vow of spinsterhood,” Noah said.

Josephine swatted his arm. “Hush.”

“I’m too young to be a spinster,” Pauline informed him. “But if I wish to be a spinster, then I shall be, and no one will stop me.”

“Mark my words,” Elias said, making his way to the railing, “if Noah wants you to marry, he’ll find you a husband and that will be the end of it.”

Pauline gasped at Noah. “You wouldn’t do that! Would you?”

Josephine saw Elias hide a smile as Noah scratched his chin, pondering the question. “I suppose that depends on whether your demand for sweet cakes becomes more than my purse can bear.”

Pauline rolled her eyes at him and pointedly returned her attention to the letter.

“Any sign of her yet?” Elias asked, joining them at the edge of the terrace a few feet away.

“Not yet,” Noah said, and plucked a spray of jasmine from the vine that twined around the railing nearby. “I’m beginning to think it will be tomorrow.” He tucked the flowers into Josephine’s hair. “I could look at you forever,” he murmured. “I wish I had a portrait of you standing here exactly like this.”

She raised a brow. “If you’d rather have a portrait of me than the actual me...”

“
Very
amusing.” He took her face in his hands. “There is nothing on
earth
I would rather have than the actual you.”

“Uncle Noah, that is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard,” Pauline exclaimed.

He grinned over at her. “Perhaps there’s hope that you might spurn spinsterhood, after all.”

“Auntie Josephine, Lettie says to tell you she and Captain Ryson saw Mother and Papa last week, and Mother says to tell you she hopes you’re content.”

Content.

Noah put his arm around her shoulders, and she nestled against him in the warm evening air, with the smell of jasmine wafting around them. Oh, yes. She was more than content. She was—

“Look,” she said suddenly, pointing. “There it is.”

A beautiful ship slipped into view from around the point, white sails billowing against the sea and sky, new wood gleaming in the setting sun. It was the first of Noah and Elias’s new ships, fully christened and sold to a local trader, returning from its first merchant voyage to Alexandria.

Noah straightened, staring for a long moment.
“Sadiqi,”
he murmured.
My Friend.
It was the name they’d chosen together to honor the man who had meant so much to both of them, for such very different reasons.

She squeezed Noah’s hand. “She’s beautiful.”

Watching the ship cut through the water, Noah leaned close to her ear. “You make this moment alive for me, Josephine,” he whispered. “I love you.”

She turned and brushed her lips across his cheek. “You make the whole
world
alive for me. I love you, Noah. Always.”

She stood in the arms of the man she loved, with Pauline blossoming into more confidence every day and Elias in better spirits than she could ever remember and her husband’s triumph sailing into port, with her baby daughter asleep inside their magnificent villa and a new life growing in her belly.

Content?

Oh, yes. She was much,
much
more than content.

* * * * *