Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (217 page)

Strangely, their proximity served Jessica as comfort, stimulation, and disturbance, all at one time. Watching her breath plume, she nestled closely into the man’s body. Devlin touched his heels to the horse’s flanks and Sweetness moved smoothly into a slow, rocking gait. The man fidgeted, twisting and turning.

“May I help?” Jessica asked. As she turned, his cloak unfurled on either side of him.

“Thank you, but our wrap is free now.” He shook the cloak and, using one hand at a time, he pulled the sides around, enclosing himself and Jessica in its silk and woolen cocoon.

She forgot about the fictitious escort they were supposed to meet and slumped forward to take his weight. “Please lean on me, Your Grace. I am very strong.”

“Yes, you are.” His words sounded muffled and seemed to come with considerable effort. “Very strong for one so tall. And slender as a reed.” He sat straight for a while, but eventually began to slump against her.

The strain in his voice indicated the duke was making heroic efforts to hold himself upright, but his strength was ebbing. “Please, Your Grace, rest against me. It is you who must sleep. I will watch for a while.”

“It matters not whether my eyes are open or closed, all I see is darkness.”

“The night is cold and you have suffered rough treatment. Your loss of sight may be your body’s defense, just as we use the cloak to defend against the brisk night air.”

His voice was husky. “Perhaps you are right. I’ve little doubt the problem is temporary.” His words rang with conviction, but she wondered if his bravado was for her sake or his own. She had provided an explanation he seemed willing to adopt. He leaned more heavily and she suspected that his strength was failing along with his voice.

Jessica felt bolstered by one thought. She would not be around should her suggestion that his blindness was temporary prove wrong. This night had provided events that were rude assaults upon what she supposed was his soft, well-ordered existence.

As they advanced, Jessica fought the sleep that claimed her each time she let down her guard. When her head bobbed and she jerked herself awake for the dozenth time, Devlin jumped, startled, before he grabbed new handfuls of the cloak he held secure about them.

“Where are you from, child?” he asked.

“From Welter, Your Grace. I work at Maxwell Manor.”

“Ah. That is one of my properties. Rather a peninsula forming the westernmost reach of my holdings. Thomas Maxwell is a supervising tenant left from my father’s time.” There came a lull and she thought he had fallen asleep. “I visited there last … let’s see when … I would think it was about … ” He hesitated.

“Four years ago, Your Grace.”

“Has it been that long?”

“Yes.”

“Did we meet, Jessica?”

She laughed. “I had just begun working there, mucking chamber pots. With the number of visitors, I was busy from dawn until night with little opportunity for socializing.”

He croaked acknowledgment. “Sleep, Nightingale.” His voice was a rasp. “Rest now, free from your servant’s duties. Vindicator knows the way.”

Exhaustion won. Against her will, bundled in the duke’s arms, warmed by his body and the cloak they shared and the marvelous scent of both cloak and duke, Jessica knew little of the trip beyond that point until the horse’s rocking motion stopped.

The sky had lightened with breaking dawn as Jessica squinted, only partially awake, bent beneath the weight against her back. A man shouted and she roused, alarmed to find people running to them like ants to a sweet.

She tried to shake off the cobwebs of sleep, but could not grasp immediately what was happening.

Figures clustered around talking and moving in a dreamlike state.

An enormous beast of a man stood immediately beside them. The giant’s great paws yanked Devlin’s cloak from their shoulders, exposing her warm body to the early morning chill.

Before she could react, those huge hands pulled the duke from the horse, almost capsizing Jessica as well. The giant caught her companion up in burly arms as if the nobleman were a babe. Then the monster carried his cloak-clad charge up broad steps and into the most superb house Jessica had ever imagined.

Two bustling women reached to draw Jessica from the horse. A groom held the animal’s head, addressing Sweetness in tender tones.

The scene continued as part of a dream. Jessica felt as if she belonged there, returning to a palatial home, greeted by soft hands and strong arms and the unspoken promises of a bath and a clean warm bed where one could sleep for a fortnight.

Her dream ended rudely, however, as she was pulled from the saddle.

Chapter Three

The two ladies, maids judging by their costume, who had broken her fall and grabbed her as she toppled from the horse, obviously had plans for her. They chattered to one another as if Jessica were not there.

“Has his lordship ever brought a doxy into his mother’s home before?” the scowling, middle-aged one said.

The older one returned the frown. “Nay, Nan, this is the first.”

When the women had Jessica generally steady on her feet, they waved the groom to lead Sweetness away. Maintaining their holds on her, they scrutinized their charge. Both reacted with deepening frowns.

Jessica jerked her arms from the women’s grasps. “I am no easy woman from the streets.” Having clarified that, she could not think how to continue. She wanted to establish immediately who and what she was not. The woman called Nan made a face. “My, she’s filthy.”

“Needs a bath,” the older one confirmed.

“What manner of clothing is this?” Nan lifted excess fabric floating about Jessica’s frame.

“Stolen, I imagine,” said the older one. “It doesn’t look to be her own.”

Jessica stared at the older woman, obviously the one to whom she should explain. It was difficult to frame an explanation as indignation exploded within, along with soreness in her backside as she stepped.

“Were I a thief, I would have pinched better clothing, at least something that fit.”

The older woman nodded, and then looked at Nan, who bobbed her head in agreement.

“You need a bath,” Nan repeated, this time addressing Jessica.

“No need,” Jessica said, mellowed by their kinder looks and the fact they were addressing her. “I must be getting home. Which is the road to Welter?”

Each of the three serving women raised an arm, index fingers pointing south.

“Thank you.” Jessica straightened and, summoning what dignity she could manage, working around the peculiar soreness in her bottom, pivoted and set her nose south, intending to follow that appendage until she either arrived in Welter or dropped alongside the road.

“Stop!” Devlin’s hoarse but imperious voice roared from above and behind her.

Jessica turned clumsily to look back as the giant stepped up beside the duke on a second-floor balcony and reiterated his sovereign’s intentions by shouting, “Stop that woman.”

She’d been called girl, child, chit and, on rare occasion, miss, but she had never been called a woman. The term surprised her so that she turned fully around and peered at Devlin and his giant, the top of the master’s head only reaching the other man’s earlobe.

Devlin muttered something and the giant shouted, “Bring her into the house.”

All three serving women grabbed Jessica’s arms and hands as if they expected her to bolt.

“Gently,” the giant amended, apparently prodded by the duke. The
house
appeared to be a palace, certainly like no dwelling she had ever seen before.

The walls looked to be of pink marble. The sunlight also created blinding glints from the floor-to-ceiling windows on three levels. Jessica jerked free of the women, as she looked to the balcony. “Please, Your Grace, I must be on my way. I have given all the time I can spare you this day.”

Although he still wore around his head the crude wrap made of strips of her petticoat, his face looked scrubbed, his expression calm and he, remarkably handsome. “Jessica Blair, I insist you accept the hospitality of my home as a token of my gratitude.”

The changing attitude of the servants around her was palpable as they withdrew and stared at her with new regard. He continued. “It would be common courtesy on your part to allow a person whose life you have redeemed to express appreciation.”

The bandage impaired the one eye, but he kept the other closed. She assumed the giant and others realized his blindness. “Come inside, Jessica. I want to introduce you to the dowager duchess, my mother. She is eager to thank you personally.”

Jessica was struck dumb. It had not occurred to her that this was a family home. Of course. He had a mother. One who resided here. With him. She should have guessed. She had a mother, one who, in fact, might be frantic at Jessica’s absence, unless someone had stopped by to tend her. There was no one else to feed and bathe her, unless Brandon did. Jessica’s older brother seldom visited the cottage, however, except when he was summoned, and then he rarely arrived promptly. Jessica could not leave her mother’s care to chance.

Devlin called again. “Come inside, Jessica. Bathe, eat, rest a little. Then I will provide a proper escort to speed you on your way.”

She drew a deep breath. Turning to look at the road yawning before her, she saw wisdom in his invitation.

“I cannot tarry long, Your Grace.”

“No, my angel, I did not expect you would.”

“Why are you on your feet?”

“Perhaps you could come inside and we could continue this conversation without inconveniencing the entire household.”

A glance indicated many people, from stable boys to cooks to maids and butlers, were hanging on every word of their rather private exchange. Humbled by the rebuke, she said, “Yes, Your Grace.”

The older serving woman led the way, flapping a hand, shooing the younger girl ahead with instructions.

Jessica tried to maintain some dignity and not favor the soreness in her lower portions as she followed. The tactless maid they called Nan trailed her up the broad sweep of stairs, through the immense doors held by liveried men at attention, men so well disciplined that they did not stare. Jessica had expected to be taken directly to the duke’s salon for an interview with his family. Instead, she was escorted up one of the twin flights of stairs rising from the entry hall and down a broad corridor lined with the portraits of ancestors. A maid stepped ahead to open a door to a bedchamber.

The walls of the room were the color of ripening peaches, the trim painted a glistening white. Throw pillows on the ivory-covered bed and the upholstery of a small chair were embroidered with flowers in peacock blue. She might have designed and decorated this room in her dreams.

Too stunned to remark on the elegant chamber, or even to draw more than shallow breaths, she tried to commit the room to memory. As she did, the older maid busied about, fluffing pillows which were already plump, dusting imaginary wrinkles from graceful draperies siding leaded windows which were so clean they glittered.

Nan dashed about, too, opening and closing cabinets, and directing men who carried pails in and out of an alcove beyond the chamber where Jessica stood.

“I am Sophie,” the young maid said quietly as she scurried by Jessica. “That is Odessa.” She indicated the older woman. Moving officiously, Nan scurried from the room. Jessica caught disapproval in Sophie’s voice as she said, “That is Nan.”

Jessica offered to shake hands, but yanked the filthy appendage back before Sophie could accept. Not only was her hand stained with grit and grime, and even the duke’s blood, her dress, too, was soiled so badly that most of the threadbare fabric was no longer blue but a dung-colored brown.

Jessica rubbed her hands down the dress and glanced at her feet. The battered, oversized boots were caked with mud. She lifted onto her tiptoes in an effort not to track from the polished wood floors to the thick rugs. She flinched as the younger maid nudged her elbow.

“Don’t touch me,” Jessica warned, startling the girl. “I am too filthy. I have no desire to befoul this lovely, lovely room or anyone in it.” Wobbling, Jessica tiptoed backward.

Odessa set her robust frame between Jessica and the only avenue of escape.

“His Grace ordered that you were to have a steaming bath, which is just beyond that door.” Odessa indicated a portal at the far side of the room.

Defensively, Jessica gathered fists full of her oversized dress, but the older woman seemed to read her thoughts.

“No need for concern, pet. Sophie and I have seen female forms more generously endowed than yours.” She shot a smile at the younger maid. “Fact is, Sophie and I ourselves have more to display than you.”

Both maids chuckled good-naturedly, drawing a smile from Jessica, who recognized truth in the boast. With these two for allies, her privacy was assured. She bent to remove the boots and release dirty, bare feet before she advanced several mincing steps toward the indicated room. She had heard of such facilities, but had never seen such a thing. This was the only opportunity she might ever have.

At the open doorway, Jessica stopped, closed her eyes, and inhaled. She longed to move closer to the freestanding tub of steaming water, the source of marvelous fragrances wafting about and warming the air.

The biggest, fluffiest towel she had ever seen draped the back of a small wooden chair to one side of the tub.

Drawn by the heavenly scent of roses when none were yet in bloom, Jessica eased forward; following her nose to thrust her face, stiff from dirt and the night’s cold, over the water, thinking to absorb the steam without sullying the pristine surroundings. She filled her lungs, making no effort to hide her pleasure.

Following behind, Odessa said, “The bath is for you, my lady.” Jessica’s eyes popped wide. She saw a round of fragrant soap nesting on a washcloth on the broad rim of the tub. Odessa startled her in the midst of that dream by shouting, “Sophie! Now!”

On signal, both women swooped and tugged at the folds of Jessica’s dress. She flapped at their hands, her efforts halfhearted. She wanted them to win, strip her, and toss her into that steaming tub.