A Hellion in Her Bed (15 page)

She shook her head. “I couldn’t eat right now. You two go on.”

The innkeeper sent promptly for a doctor, then insisted upon offering them dinner for free. They ate in silence.

When the servant brought them a currant pie, George screwed his face up, looking as if he might cry. “Mother loves currant pie.”

“Then we’ll make sure she gets some, as soon as she’s feeling better.”

George lifted his gaze to Jarret. “Isn’t there anything we can do?” His expression turned fierce. “We could go back and make the constable punish Mrs. Cranley.”

Jarret certainly understood
that
impulse. “And what would happen if your mother needed us while we were gone? What if your aunt has to send us on to fetch your father? We must stay here in case we’re needed.”

“I suppose.” He stared downcast at his plate. “Aunt Annabel wouldn’t send for Father, though. And he wouldn’t come, even if she did.”

“Why not? Is he too ill to travel?” Jarret asked.

George shot him a fierce glance. “I don’t want to talk about him, blast it! Bad enough that Mama’s sick, and she m-might d-die, but Father …”

The boy burst into tears, alarming Jarret. “Here now, she’s not going to die.” Not sure what else to do, he laid his arm about George’s bony shoulders and squeezed. “She’ll be fine. She just needs rest, and then she’ll be right as rain.”

All George seemed able to do was nod. Jarret could
understand George’s panic over his mother, but his reaction to the mention of his father’s illness seemed unreasonable, given Annabel’s statement that it wasn’t life-threatening.

Jarret tensed. What if
that
was the secret Annabel was hiding? If her brother were dying, it would explain the man’s inability to send a letter of introduction with her and why they all got so uneasy whenever his name was brought up.

But why keep that quiet? Perhaps because she feared that Jarret might balk at an alliance with a brewery that was about to be sold? Or worried that he might try to purchase the place at a loss if he figured out how bad off Lake Ale was?

He snorted. She had nothing to fear on that score. Plumtree Brewery didn’t have the liquid assets right now to buy another brewery.

But neither could he involve it in Annabel’s scheme if the legal owner couldn’t see the project to fruition. That would be a contractual nightmare.

He looked at George, now furtively rubbing away the remainder of his tears, and wondered if he should press the boy further.

“Why don’t we play some cards, lad? It’ll pass the time until your aunt or the doctor can give us a report.”

“A-all right. And perhaps you could tell me about your brother? You know, the one who races horses?”

“Absolutely,” Jarret said.

George flashed him a waterlogged smile, and Jarret was jolted back to those horrible first weeks after his parents’ deaths, when he’d found sustenance from even the smallest kindness of a stranger.

Damn it all to hell. He couldn’t torment the lad further
right now—that would be cruel. George had to be panicking, fearful of watching
both
of his parents perish, leaving him all alone in the world. Jarret would have to confront Annabel about it once the rest of this mess was done.

Five hours later, when she came down to look in on them, she seemed pleased to find him entertaining George. She managed a faint smile as she watched them playing Pope Joan, but her appearance alarmed him. Tendrils of hair straggled down her pale cheeks, and her eyes were dulled by worry.

“Aunt Annabel!” Geordie cried, leaping up from the table. “How is Mother?”

“She’s sleeping right now,” she said, casting Jarret a veiled glance.

That wasn’t an answer, and they both knew it. He stood and held out a chair for her. “Come, sit down. You look like hell.”

He winced the minute the words left his lips. It was a tribute to how frustrated this situation made him that he would say something so rude.

She arched a brow. “What flattery. You’ll make me swoon.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded. But you need to eat. Take a seat, and I’ll call for something.”

“Not yet. Sissy is still feverish. Perhaps later, once I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“No, right now,” he said firmly and pressed her into the chair. “You’ll do your sister-in-law no good if you fall sick yourself.”

She reluctantly acquiesced, but when the servant brought her pigeon and peas, she only picked at them. “Actually, I came down to ask a favor of you, my lord.”

He wished she would stop with the “my lord” nonsense.
His hand had been cupping her breast only a few hours ago. “Whatever you need.”

“Would it be all right if Geordie slept in your room tonight?”

He hesitated half a second, but he’d be a bastard to refuse. “Of course.” Jarret forced a smile.

“But Aunt Annabel, I want to sleep with you and Mother!” the lad protested.

“You’ll rest better if you sleep in his lordship’s room,” she said wearily. “And so will she.”

That was probably true. Jarret wouldn’t rest very well, undoubtedly, but he shouldn’t complain about that under the circumstances. “Come on, lad—be a man. Men don’t sleep with their mothers, do they?”

George swallowed, then squared his shoulders. “No, I suppose not.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Jarret told Annabel. “We can entertain ourselves. We’ll drain a couple of pints, gamble at vingt-et-un with the lads here, and tumble a taproom maid or two.”

A laugh sputtered out of Annabel. “I suppose you think that’s funny,” she said, trying to regain her straight face.

“Got a laugh from you, didn’t it?” he drawled.

“Only because I’m so tired that anything would make me laugh,” she admitted. But she was gazing fondly at him, which did something disquieting to his insides.

“Attempt to get some sleep,” he said softly, trying not to think of how fetching she would look in a filmy nightdress and bare feet. “We’ll be fine, I swear.”

“Thank you for looking after him.” Annabel rose. “I’d best go up. The doctor gave me an elixir to administer every two hours.”

She headed toward the stairs, then turned back to cast him an apologetic glance. “Oh, and I should warn you. Geordie kicks.”

“Then I’ll just kick him back,” Jarret retorted. At Geordie’s horrified gasp, he chuckled. “I’m joking, lad. I’ll manage.”

Still, it looked as if it would be a long damned night.

A
nnabel passed the next twenty-four hours in a blur of emptying chamber pots and sponging Sissy’s fevered head. At the end of their second day in the inn, Annabel dozed off in the chair beside the bed. A few hours later, she was jolted awake by the sound of a window being opened. Sissy had left the bed.

“What are you doing?” she cried as she rose to go to her sister-in-law’s side.

“It’s like a furnace in here,” Sissy said. “We need air.”

Annabel touched Sissy’s head, and relief flooded her. “Your fever has broken. You don’t have chills anymore!”

“I’m all clammy, though.” Sissy returned to the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, then patted the spot beside her. “Come on, you need sleep, too.” Suddenly her head shot up. “Is Geordie still in his lordship’s room?”

“Yes. Poor man. The last I saw him, he looked decidedly strained.”

Yet he’d once again made her sit down and eat. Whenever
she’d gone down to report on Sissy’s condition, he’d been downright solicitous. He’d even made sure the servants brought tea and food for her at mealtimes.

“Aren’t you worried that Geordie will let something slip about Hugh that might alert his lordship to what’s really going on?” Sissy asked.

With a sigh, Annabel climbed into bed. “Of course, but we had no choice. They’ve spent hours together now. If Geordie was going to say something, surely he would have done so already.” She lay back to stare at the ceiling. “And perhaps Jarret is right. Perhaps Geordie really is getting old enough to be trusted with a few matters.”

“Jarret?” Sissy said meaningfully.

A blush heated Annabel’s cheeks. “We … that is, he … suggested that we needn’t be so formal with each other. Under the circumstances.”

“Did he, now?” Amusement threaded Sissy’s voice.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” At Sissy’s snort, Annabel added, “Seriously, you mustn’t get ideas about him and me.”

“Why not? It’s long past time you married.”

“You sound like Hugh,” she chided. “You know why I don’t want to marry.”

“I do—but the right man won’t care that you have a son. If having you means taking in Geordie, too, he’ll do it.”

“Wouldn’t you miss him?” Annabel asked.

“Of course I would miss him. But you’re as much a mother to him as I am. And he could come to visit us as often as he likes. In my mind, he’s always been yours.”

“But in
his
mind, he’s always been
yours
.” Annabel sighed. “The point is moot, anyway. I have yet to meet this ‘right man.’ His lordship certainly isn’t it. A marquess’s son take in
some brewster’s by-blow? Besides, he isn’t the marrying kind.”

He was the seducing kind. And a wanton part of her wished to find out if he was as good at that as he was at kissing.

Ever since he’d caressed her breast, restlessness had wreaked havoc on her self-control. All she could think about was how glorious it had felt to have six feet of aroused male pressing into her, caressing her, wanting her. The same way she’d wanted him. She’d ached to have him take her right there against the wall—

She groaned. This was insanity! How did he make her feel these things, when no one since Rupert had done so? And she missed it so much. She hadn’t realized until this very moment how much she’d missed being touched intimately by a man.

Lord, she cringed to think how close they’d come to being caught. Had Geordie suspected what they were doing? She’d dearly love to know what their conversation had been about. She hadn’t had a moment to ask Jarret, but she’d do so as soon as she could.

No doubt about it, the man was dangerous. His nature called to a wildness in her that craved escape.

But it simply wouldn’t do to indulge such urges. It was fine for a man—he could take what he wanted, button up his trousers, and be done. A woman had more to fear from such an encounter, as Annabel knew only too well.

“Why are you so sure that his lordship isn’t the marrying kind?” Sissy asked.

Because he wagered with me for a night in his bed. Because every time he looks at me, I feel the heat on my skin. Because he makes me feel things no respectable man could possibly make me feel.

“His grandmother gave him and his siblings an ultimatum:
marry or be cut off from their inheritance. But according to his brother, she agreed to exempt him if he ran Plumtree Brewery for a year. Since he accepted the bargain, I suspect he has a strong aversion to matrimony.”

Sissy rolled her eyes. “All men have a strong aversion to matrimony.”

“Not Rupert.” Though honestly, she wasn’t entirely sure of that.

“Rupert was a boy, not a man,” Sissy said gently. “Boys are impetuous.”

True. Why else had Rupert run off to fight the war, leaving her to fend for herself ?

Jarret certainly wasn’t impetuous. Except when he was holding her against a wall to kiss and fondle her …

Blast it, why couldn’t she stop thinking about it? “Whatever the reason, Jarret is definitely not interested in marriage.”

“You may not have noticed, but bachelors don’t generally agree to look after children. Yet here he is, looking after Geordie to help you.”

“And you.”

Sissy laughed. “It’s not me he follows with his eyes. It’s not me he scowls at when your great love for Rupert is mentioned. It’s not me he flirts with.”

“You’re daft,” Annabel said, her heart racing. If Sissy only knew. “He’s a rogue, and they flirt with anything in petticoats. Besides, he probably thinks that looking after Geordie will get us on the road faster. He wants to be done with meeting the terms of our wager.”

She must tell herself that until she believed it.

“Have it your way.” Sissy’s eyelids drooped. “But I say you have a chance there and should seize it while you can. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“Thank you for reminding me.”

“Someone should,” Sissy said drowsily, and succumbed to sleep.

Annabel should as well, since there was no telling what tomorrow would bring. But her memories of Jarret’s kisses made it hard. Really, it was ridiculous. She was acting like a silly girl, full of pointless romantic dreams. Nothing good could come of it. Only fools placed their hopes in rogues like him.

That was her last thought before she, too, nodded off.

The next morning, the doctor informed her and Jarret that Sissy was indeed on the mend but needed at least another day to recuperate before she started jostling her stomach in a carriage again.

Though Jarret had to be chafing at the delay, it was Geordie who received the news with ill grace. After they left Sissy and headed off for breakfast, Geordie stomped ahead of them toward the stairs. “I can’t believe we have to spend
another
day here! I’ll die of boredom!”

“No one dies of boredom, Geordie,” Annabel said wearily.

“We’ll play cards, lad,” Jarret said.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Geordie headed downstairs. “I’m
sick
of that.”

“Geordie,” Annabel said sharply, “don’t be rude. It was very nice of his lordship to offer. None of us likes this situation, but we must adjust.”

“Sorry,” Geordie mumbled unconvincingly. “Can’t we go for a ride? Get outdoors for a bit?”

At that moment, the innkeeper met them at the bottom of the stairs. “I hope your lordship has been comfortable these past two days.”

“Perfectly so, sir,” Jarret said. “Tell me, is there any sort of
spectacle to be had around here that would please a young gentleman? Racing, shooting? Any chance for a sight of blood and mayhem?”

The innkeeper chuckled. “Well, now, it’s market day. At the beast market, they butcher the cows and pigs.”

When Annabel made a face, Jarret laughed. “I suppose they have other parts of the market?”