03 - The Wicked Lady (14 page)

But then, Kristen was used to trouble. Seems it followed her, no matter where she went.

Trevor clenched his teeth as suffocating sleep kept pulling him back under.  Every muscle in his body felt as if it were on fire, and an odd sort of coldness made him shiver as he huddled down under the blankets. He hoped Doctor Harrison had worked his magic one more time. He'd taken care of all Trevor's aches and pains over the years. He'd smile if the effort wasn't so great.

Kristen?

Somewhere, Trevor remembered her soft touch as the doctor worked on him. She had stayed to assist Harrison when most women would have fainted dead away. There seemed to be so much more to Kristen than just a common thief. Every day, he could feel her stealing closer to him, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wanted to share his thoughts . . . his feelings, but he didn't know how.

And then he remembered how painful love could be. Kristen would probably leave him, too. He'd have to be careful.

Damn, his head hurt as he tossed and turned. Much better to let the darkness claim him again. Sleep. That's what he needed. Peaceful sleep.

When the hallway was free, Kristen moved quietly back to Trevor's room. She set the lamp on the dresser, then moved over to his bed and placed her hand on his forehead. She found it warm, but not hot. Her fingers trailed down the side of his face, and she marveled at how strong his features were. His square jaw was rough where he needed to shave, but he was beautiful just the same. Especially when he slept.  His chestnut hair gave a warmth to his face, and she resisted the urge to run her fingers through it.

He appeared to be slumbering like a baby and not in any need of her attention. But something kept her there. Some unknown drawing force made her want to shield this man and that brought a smile. How could she protect him?  The protectee trying to protect the protector. In a funny sort of way, Kristen knew she could save him from himself.

Trevor stirred slightly, catching her hand in his. Kristen watched his face as he slowly opened his eyes, trying to figure out exactly where he was.

"Kristen," he whispered her name.

"I'm here," she said hoarsely. "How do you feel?"

"Not worth a fig," he rasped.

"Are you in pain?" She smoothed the hair from his forehead. "Is there something I can get you?"

"Maybe a sip of water."

Kristen leaned over and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the stand. She slid her arm under his head and helped him sit up as she held the glass to his lips.

When she put the glass back, she wondered if Trevor had ever been this helpless before. She couldn't imagine so. She sensed he was a man used to doing everything for himself.

He was a man who needed no one.

A man who probably would never need her.

Trevor stared at her so intently that Kristen couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

"You know, Kristen, we are a lot alike." His speech was slurred by the whisky he'd been given earlier.

As usual, t
he whiskey as usual brought back unpleasant memories to Kristen, and she had to will herself not to panic. She had to stay by his bed. As she watched him, she realized that just because she could smell the liquor it didn't mean that he would become violent.

That had been in another world. One she needed to forget. Actually, Trevor looked so calm and peaceful she couldn't help but smile at him.
"I dinna think so,” she said. “We come from very different worlds, and are nothing alike."

"That's true, but we are still very similar, you and I. We both use people to get what we want. Our present arrangement is a perfect example."

"She nodded."Aye, I guess it is.”

"Maybe that's why I understand you so well." He absently rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

"I think it's best ye get some sleep." She lifted her hand and let it drift down the side of Trevor's face. She wondered why she had this strong urge to touch him . . . to be close to him.

"Would you like to kiss me goodnight?"

"Nay."

One of his eyes opened a little wider. "Why not?"

"'Cause ye are sick, and ye smell of liquor." Every time his gaze met hers, her heart fluttered. "Ye know I have a strong dislike for the drink."

"Kristen," her name was a caress upon his lips. "I'm not your stepfather. I will never abuse you."

"Just the same, liquor has a strange way of making one forget who they are."

Trevor studied her intently as sleep threatened to pull him back to its silent world. He fought it a little longer. He could sense her nervousness, and he wondered how many bad memories she had. He never wanted to see fear in her eyes.

Sleep seemed to be calling him stronger this time and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Yet, he didn't want Kristen to go. He wanted her to stay with him while he slept. He knew that was being very selfish, but still . . .

"Why don't you get some sleep, sweetheart. I will be fine and you need some rest."

"But what if ye be needin' something?"

"Go." He squeezed her hand. "This house is overrun with servants. I'll be fine, and I will rest better knowing that you are, too. You know you could sleep here beside me. That would make me feel much better." He grinned.

"I'm sure it would." She tried to look stern, but a smile overrode her best intentions. "Ye really are a rake." She stood.

"Now, you have insulted a sick man. Rodney is the rake, not I." Trevor shut his eyes because the effort to keep them open was too great.

"Really."  She looked at him doubtfully. "Good night," she said as she left the room, leaving Trevor to wonder just what this woman meant to him.

This business arrangement would be a sound one. Kristen wasn't one of those females who required a lot of attention. So, he'd be free to come and go, and he knew she'd be waiting for him when he came home. Yes, he'd have the best of both worlds . . . a lovely wife and his freedom to do as he pleased.

Trevor frowned. At the moment, he couldn't imagine not seeing Kristen every day. Then he reminded himself, it was just because she was new to him. Once they were married, and he'd made love to her, she'd lose all her novelty, and he'd back to normal.

Damn, he was giving himself a huge headache. He began to toss and turn again, searching for that sleep. Of course, the whisky wasn't helping. One thing was sure. He'd done a hell of a lot of thinking since that woman came into his life, and he needed to stop. He was the ruler of what he did and said, and thought. He'd make a mental note to stay away from liquor, so he wouldn't upset Kristen.

Sighing, he finally let the welcome sleep pull him into a dream world.  But there, in its mist, was a woman with hair the color of the sun on an early morning sunrise and eyes the color of the forest, and lips that tasted of strawberries.

Trevor Claremont, Duke of Chatsworth knew he was a doomed man.

Chapter Eight

Streamers of light drifted across the covers and warmed Kristen's face, waking her much later than she'd intended.

Quickly, she threw back the covers, slid out of bed and hurried over to the wardrobe.

The wardrobe was filled with gowns of blue, lavender, and rose. Everything was beautiful, Kristen admitted to herself, but life had been so much simpler when she'd had only two dresses and little choice.

Deciding on a dark blue morning dress, she slipped off her gown and grabbed the lacy undergarment she loved to feel next to her skin. Silk and lace were luxuries she really enjoyed, she thought as she stepped into her chemise and began to dress.

She had wanted to see how Trevor was feeling this morning, and she'd hoped to see him alone before his grandmother started complaining about her again.

Kristen really resented that Dowager Duchess had judged her because of her nationality when the woman knew absolutely nothing at all about her. If she'd known that Kristen had lived in the streets and picked a few pockets every now and then so they could eat, then that was a different story. However, she didn't think Trevor would divulge that small bit of information. He had too much to lose himself.

Kristen wondered where Rebecca was this morning as she brushed her hair to remove the tangles from the night before. She assumed her maid had taken Hagan down for breakfast, and she was thankful. It must be near noon if the bright sun was any indication.

Pinching her cheeks, Kristen glanced at her reflection in the mirror. She was still not accustomed to having the privilege to do so, but enjoyed the luxury. She hurried down the hall to Trevor's room.

"Good morning," she said upon entering, then stopped short. There was no reply, because Trevor wasn't in the bed. The room was completely empty.

Surely, he was too sick to be up, she thought, glancing frantically around the room. Perhaps something had happened to him during the night while she'd slept. No, that couldn't be. Someone would have let her know. Maybe she could find her answer downstairs, she decided as she left the room.

Kristen barely remembered flying down the stairs in a panic. She paused only long enough for a deep breath before she barreled into the formal dining room and found Constance and Trevor sitting at one end of the table, with Hagan seated one chair down from Trevor. Kristen's stomach plummeted, and she took another deep breath, trying to calm her nerves.

Trevor looked up and smiled. "There's my future bride now."

Constance's gaze was glued to Kristen. "You need to teach
her
how to enter a room like a proper young lady," Constance snapped as she dabbed her mouth with a napkin. The look on her face gave one the impression she'd just eaten something sour.

"Boy, Kristen you sure are a sleepy head. It's almost noon. We had breakfast a long time ago," Hagan informed her as he placed his fork on his plate rather noisily. "And lunch."

"I must have been tired." She frowned at her brother. Must he always state the obvious? She needed his support, not someone pointing out her flaws. She looked back to Trevor who had now risen and was walking toward her. "Why are ye out of bed?" The tenderness in his expression amazed her, but she kept talking. "And dressed! I'm sure the doctor meant for ye tae stay in bed today."

Trevor took her elbow and escorted her to a chair beside him. "As you can see, I'm just fine," he said calmly. "I must admit, I am a tad sore, but that's to be expected." He moved around the table, reclaiming his spot. "You have my shoulder bandaged so thoroughly I can scarcely move, but the rest of my body is fine."

"Yeah, Kristen." Hagan sat his glass down just missing his plate. "He ain't no dandy. We're going riding--on horses."

Kristen couldn't help smiling at her brother. Nothing ever bothered Hagan. Then she frowned as his words sank in. Going horseback riding? "I think ye should wait," she told both of them.

"But Trevor said--" Hagan persisted.

"Children should be seen and not heard!" Constance's voice echoed around the cold dining room.

"What does that mean, Grandmere?" Hagan looked at the woman with a quizzical stare. "Can't you see me?"

"I am not your Grandmere, young man." Her words were as cold as ice water.

"That's what Trevor calls you," Hagan persisted.

Constance's eyebrows shot up and he
r face turned a pinkish color. “Trevor, speak to the child!"

"What she meant, Hagan, is that ye are talking tae much," Kristen explained without adding
old
bat
.

"I'm not talking too much." He shook his head and his eyes brightened.  I just got started."

"No, ye are not talking tae much, but since ye have finished yer lunch why don't ye find Rebecca, and tell her tae get ye ready for the ride." Kristen gave him a little nudge toward the door.

"Ye really shouldn't be riding," Kristen reminded Trevor. "Do I have tae remind ye, ye were shot?"

"I must agree with her." Constance nodded in Kristen's direction, though she didn't bother to look at her.

"I hear your concerns, but I assure you both that I am fine." He turned toward his grandmother. His profile spoke of strength. "Did you arrange for the dressmaker to come and fit Kristen?"

"Yes, I have." Her expression was a mask of stone. "I have also sent out the invitations at your insistence. You are to exchange vows a week from Saturday." Constance gave Kristen a piercing look. "That is, if you don't change your mind."

"Grandmere."  Trevor sighed as if he'd gone over this many times before. "I know this is sudden, but if you remember it was at your suggestion," he reminded her. "I had no intention of getting married."

"But this woman is a Scot!"  Constance waved a hand toward Kristen.

That did it!
  Kristen stood so fast she nearly knocked the chair over.  "And yer a bloody Englishwoman, but ye don't hear me constantly harping on the fact!"

"Don't raise
your voice at me, young lady." Constance's gray eyebrows shot together. "I will not have it!" She threw down her napkin and stood, too.