Loving Protector (13 page)

“No. No of course not. Oh nothing I say
is coming out right. I only wanted you not to feel trapped, that is all. I know
you only married me to save me from the Earl of Garton and because you promised
the King you would, and that there is someone else you prefer, but… “

The carriage lurched to a halt outside
Brook’s house, preventing her from saying anything else. What a mess she had
made of things. Why was it so difficult for her to say to him ‘I love you, and
I hate that you do not love me’? She put it down to the lack of control she had
been feeling for quite some time. If she admitted she loved him, without his
returning that affection, then he might have even more control over her. He
might even use her love against her as a means of making sure he always got his
own way. He was a man used to having his demands obeyed.  She could not
take the risk of being just another soldier under his command. She had to keep
something of her own, even if it was only the secret of her love for him.

“I think you have said more than
enough,” he muttered as he helped her down from the carriage. The servants were
coming from the house to welcome them home. “So tonight at dinner I will talk
and you will listen.”

“I am not one of your soldiers to
command,” she hissed, with one last attempt at liberty. It fooled no one,
certainly not him. His grip on her waist as he led her up the steps to the
house, told her exactly who was in charge.

She had little time to take in that the
renovations to the house had been completed, and that the outside looked far
less derelict than it had before. She was only aware of a loud crack, then
Brook stumbling against her, almost knocking her off balance. She thought at
first that he had tripped on the step, until she saw blood running from his
temple. She caught him in her arms, and they both slipped, landing with a thud
on the top step, her arms held tightly around him. “Brook…” Her voice was
barely above a whisper, until the full horror of what had happened finally
dawned on her. Only then did she scream his name.

Chapter
Thirteen

A shaft of sunlight broke through a gap
in the curtains, casting a glow on the bed where Brook lay with his head bandaged.
Several days had passed by, in which Calista refused to leave his side. She lay
on top of the bed, fully dressed, with her hand on his chest, feeling the rise
and fall of his laboured breathing

“I am afraid, Mrs Windebank,” said the
doctor, on the first day, “all we can do now is wait. I have retrieved the
bullet from the colonel’s head, but it is uncertain how much damage it may have
done. His body may well heal itself or…”

“Or what? Please do not try to spare me
the details, doctor. I need to know.”

“He may suffer amnesia. That is the best
we can hope with such an injury. Or he may well be in a vegetative state for
the rest of his life. If that is the case, then it is perhaps best that he does
not live too long.”

She had asked the doctor not to spare
her the details, but she could have done without that last bit of information.
That someone so vibrant and healthy may spend the rest of his life unconscious
was too much to bear. She knew that it happened. A girl from her town had
fallen from her horse, striking her head on a rock, and was sent in a home for
the mentally ill because her parents could not cope with her at home. Calista
could not even think of sending Brook to such a place.

“Please wake up and be well,” she said
softly as she lay by Brook’s side. “I have so much I need to tell you. If you
cannot wake up, please don’t be in any pain.” She reached for his hand, hoping,
as she had hoped for several days, that he might respond by squeezing her
fingers. “What can I do to help you?”

There was a faint knock at the door, and
one of the servants came in. “The Duke of Midchester is downstairs and wishes
to see his son, Mrs. Windebank.”

“Of course,” said Calista. “Give me a
moment to make myself presentable, then show him up.” Perhaps Brook’s father
would be able to help. He might even know of a physician who could undo the
damage that had been done.  She went to the mirror and straightened her
hair as best she could, and then adjusted her old grey muslin dress which had
ridden up a little. She wore it because none of the fine clothes in her
trousseau seemed appropriate for tending Brook. She still looked untidy to her
own eyes, but guessed that the Duke of Midchester would not be interested in
her anyway.

“Your Grace,” she said, curtseying as
the duke entered the room.

“You are my son’s wife?”  He barked
out the question, without bothering to return her greeting.

“That is correct.”

“But I gather that the marriage is not
fully legal.”

“I am not sure what you mean.”

“It can be annulled.”

“Annulled? Why?”

The duke made his meaning clear in terms
that embarrassed Calista greatly. “I see. Yes, I suppose that is true, but…”

“But nothing. You are to go away from
here and let me and people who are more suitable care for my son.”

“Go away?”

“That is what I said. Are you an
imbecile? No, you cannot be. I gather you were clever enough to ensnare my son,
using the King to get to him.”

“That is not true,” said Calista. “I had
no thoughts of marrying Brook until the Earl of Garton tried to force my hand.”

“So you admit it is not a love match?”

“I admit nothing of the sort.”

“Look girly, I’ll give you a lot of
money to leave. You are not a suitable wife for the future Duke of Midchester.
You must see that. And he can hardly be a husband to you in this state. You’re
young enough to start again. Leave my son to me.”

“You mean the son that you have
neglected for thirty years?”

“Do not take that tone with me, Miss.”

“Mrs. I am Mrs. Windebank. I am not the
wife of the future Duke of Midchester. I am the wife of Colonel Brook
Windebank, and I would never leave him to you. You have shown no sign of caring
for him before. Why the sudden interest now?”

“He is my son. Regardless of what I
might have said in the past, or what people might believe, he will be the next
duke. And as I have already said, you are not a suitable wife for him. Look at
the state of you. Your hair is a mess, that dress is not fit for a servant.”

“Well I apologise for not meeting your
exacting standards, Your Grace, but might I remind you that I have been at your
son’s side for two days, caring for him. Where have you been?”

“Trying to track down the rogue who
tried to kill him.”

“Oh… Then I am sorry. But the matter
still stands. I will not leave him to you. You may have a hankering to care for
him now, because his life has been in danger, but what happens when you tire of
that? Who will take care of him then? Or will you leave him to the care of
servants.”

“There are hospitals…”

“No! Never.” Calista was immediately
reminded of the tragic girl from her home town. “I will not let him go to one
of those places.”

“I am his father.”

“And I am his wife.”

“And you fancy being the Duchess of
Midchester no doubt.”

“I do not care that…” Calista snapped
her fingers, “for being the Duchess of Midchester. You may not think that our
marriage is a love match, and perhaps Brook does not love me. But I love him…”
Tears splashed from her eyes. “And I’ll care for him here for as long as I have
to.”

“Do not make an enemy of me, Missy.”

“No, Your Grace, it is you who should
not make an enemy of me. When it comes to my husband, I promise I will fight
you tooth and nail in order to do what is best for him.”

“Oh you silly girl…” the Duke sighed,
and suddenly looked very old. “I do believe you love him. Can you be sure that
your love will last any longer than what you call my sudden interest in him.”
He sat down on a chair near to the window, and pulled back the curtain to look
out.

“I am far more constant than you, Your
Grace.”

“You think so? Then it might surprise
you to hear that I loved my wife. I loved her until the day she died. Only … I
was a young fool when we married, and had no idea how to show my love. I had
not much experience of it from my own parents who despised each other for all
their married life together. So I treated her as cruelly as my father treated
my mother because I knew no other way. I am not proud of myself but sometimes
when one has taken a road in one’s life it is hard to turn back, to admit one
is wrong. Then…” The duke laughed bitterly, and gestured to the bed, “then this
young whippersnapper came along and challenged me to a duel. All I wanted was
my wife’s love and my son’s love, yet I had taught them both to hate me. So it
was easier to hate in return.”

“He does not hate you. He came to you wanting
you to recognize him as your son.”

“So, I got it wrong again. And I suppose
I have got you all wrong too.”

“We could care for him together,” said
Calista. “I do not think I can do it all on my own. But not in a hospital. It
must be here, in his home. In our home.”

“Now why would you want an old brute
like me around my son?”

“Because you have just told me that you
love him. I believe that when you came here today, as clumsily as you behaved,
it was also because you love him.”

“Clumsily, hey? Not many people in my
life have ever spoken to me as you do.”

“You had better get used to it, Your
Grace, when it comes to your son’s well-being.”

“When I walked in this room I thought
you were the worst possible wife for a man like my son. You’re young … far too
young … and you look as if one gust of wind would blow you right over. Yet you
have a spine as solid as any oak tree that has withstood a thousand storms. I
can see that now. I do not suppose you would share some luncheon with a clumsy
old man? Tell me all about my son. I know so little of him, you see.”

“I would be delighted to.”

Luncheon was a strange affair. They ate
in the small sitting room off Brook’s bedroom, because Calista would not go far
from him. The duke showed every sign of being irascible for the rest of his
life, but he also showed signs of trying to be a different man. They almost
argued several times, as they disagreed about the best care for Brook, and at
one point the duke threw down his napkin and looked as if he were about to
leave. But he took a deep breath and stayed. The sudden deep breath was a
characteristic Calista had noticed in Brook, and she wondered how much of his
father’s temper he had, but suppressed. It must have taken a lot of
self-control to not give in to the darker forces in his nature, because he was
determined not to be his father. But he had also suffered a serious head
injury. Even if he awoke, might it change him, releasing those darker forces?
It was something she would worry about if and when he awoke. The important
thing was that he did wake up.

The duke stayed for the rest of the
afternoon, watching over his son whilst Calista slept for a few hours. Not that
she slept well. She kept waking suddenly, certain that she had heard Brook’s
voice cry out.

“You did not tell me what happened with
your investigation,” Calista said to the duke as he was leaving. “Do you know
who shot Brook?”

“I have an idea. And I am afraid it is
my fault, Calista. May I call you Calista?”

“Yes, you may.”

“It was young Purbeck, I believe. He has
fled to the continent and I doubt he shall return. I have played games with too
many young men just like him, letting them believe they have a chance of being
named my heir whilst I have them dancing around me, doing my bidding. Most get
bored of being my puppets and move on. It is fair to say that they are not
always the most intelligent of young men, and have no real idea of the laws of
primogeniture. Purbeck really believed I intended to name him as my heir. No
doubt aided by your step-sister, who had her eye on being the duchess.”

“She could have been,” said Calista. “I
think Brook… I think he cares for her.”

“Then you are a bigger fool than I
thought.” The duke did not speak unkindly. “And if you are right and my son cares
for her and not you, then he is also a bigger fool than I thought.”

“I do believe that was a compliment,
Your Grace.” Calista smiled.

“Treasure it. I shall not make many
more.” The duke smiled too. It was clear he was not used to it as the smile
dropped almost immediately. “Thank you for giving an old man a second chance. I
only hope that if my son awakes, he will do the same.”

“I will be your strongest champion, Your
Grace.”

“I do not deserve that, but thank you
again.”

Calista bid him farewell, then went back
upstairs. She lay down on the bed next to Brook, as she had done so since he
was carried there. She reached her hand out and put it on his chest and
wondered if she only imagined that his breathing seemed a little easier. 
She almost jumped out of her skin when he suddenly turned to face her, his grey
eyes piercing into her.

“Brook! You’re awake.” She would have
sat up, but his arm moved across her body and pinned her down. “Do you know who
I am?”

“Yes, you’re Boadicea.”

Her heart dropped. He had lost his
memory. “No, I am Calista. Your … wife.”

“Strange. In the dream I had earlier,
you were definitely Boadicea, charging at my father, before thwarting him and
turning him into a very willing slave. Tell me, who are you and what have you
done with my timid little wife?”

“Your father was here.”

“I know. I heard you talking to him. I
was awake all the time he sat with me too, but I wanted to gather my strength
before dealing with him.”

“He wants to make things up to you. He
really means it…” Before Calista could finish her sentence, Brook had pinned
her to the bed and covered her lips with his.

“I am not interested in my father at the
moment,” he said, when he finally raised his head. He still had her pinned to
the bed. She could feel his breath against her cheek, and felt an
uncontrollable desire to pull him closer to her. “Only in the woman who has
lain at my side for two days, and what she said about me to him.”

“He said he wanted to put you in a
hospital.” Oh please do not let him have heard everything, she prayed silently.
“And I merely told him I would not allow it.”

“I heard that too.”

“Why did you not say you were awake?”

“It was such an interesting conversation
I did not want to stop it.” While he spoke, he ran his hands over her body,
sending delicious tremors down her spine. “I learned so much.”

“You are not well,” she said. “It would
not be wise to exert yourself.”

“Then,” he said, kissing her between
words, “you … will … have … to … be … very … very … gentle … with … me.” Much
to her regret he stopped kissing her and became more serious. “Because I have
no intentions of allowing my father or anyone else to annul this marriage.”