More Than Willing (11 page)

She bent down to pull him to his feet. “Why did you come here? You should have gone to your own place. If anyone sees you like this they’ll—”

“Maggie…”

Maggie wrapped her fingers around one of his arms and pulled, but she stopped when he moaned again.

Something was different in the sound he made. The low groan didn’t sound like the slurring of a drunk trying to talk. She lifted her gaze to his face and the first wave of fear clutched
at her chest.

“Gray?”
Maggie pushed back the dark hair that had fallen over his forehead. His skin was cold and damp.

“Gray?”

“Help…me…”

“What’s wrong?”

Gray wasn’t drunk. He was in pain.

Maggie glanced at his body but couldn’t see anything wrong. When she reached to unfasten his jacket buttons,
he clamped his hand over her fingers and stopped her.

“Not…here. Help me…inside.”

“Aunt Hester,” she shouted, looking up to where her aunt stood in the open doorway. “Wake one of the footmen to help me get Mr. Delaney into the house, then send someone for a doctor.”

Aunt Hester darted back inside and Maggie turned back to Gray. “Can you sit?”

He nodded and Maggie slid her arm beneath his shoulder and helped him up.

“Let me sit for a moment… before I try to
stand.”

“What happened?” Maggie asked, hovering over him to shield him as much as possible from the cold and wind.

“Either someone doesn’t want me…here, or…

Maggie felt his weight press heavier as he leaned against her. She looked down and noticed a large stain that darkened the shoulder of his jacket. Her gaze darted back toward the house and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Jeremy, one of their footmen, coming toward them with a blanket.

“Let me help you, miss,” Jeremy said, leaning down to take Gray’s weight.

Jeremy placed the blanket over Gray’s back, then draped Gray’s uninjured arm over his shoulder and helped
him to his feet.

Maggie stepped back while Jeremy led Gray past her, then followed them into the house. When they reached the foyer, she rushed to Gray’s other side and helped him up the stairs to one of the spare guest rooms.

“Bring the doctor up the minute he arrives,” she told Aunt Hester when they had Gray’s boots off and his jacket unbuttoned.

Aunt Hester left the room and Maggie
loosened Gray’s shirt while Jeremy held him steady. A large patch of blood stained the fine lawn material and Maggie grabbed a towel from the bedside table and pressed it to the wound.

“You’ve been shot,” she said, looking into Gray’s pain-filled eyes.

“So it…seems.”

Her heart flipped in her breast and she waited for Gray to tell her if he’d seen whoever had fired at him. When he didn’t say anything, she realized he wasn’t about to talk with Jeremy in the room.

“Jeremy, get me some warm water and some fresh cloths.”

“Are you sure you want me to leave you alone here?” Jeremy asked, glancing toward the door as if he was hoping someone would come in so she wouldn’t be alone.

“You won’t be gone that long. Now hurry.”

“Yes, Miss.
” Jeremy rushed from the room.

When he was gone, Maggie turned back to Gray. “Do you know who shot you?”

He shook his head, then closed his eyes.

Her heart thundered in her chest. Gray had been shot. He could have been killed. A fear unlike any she’d felt before gnawed at her insides.

“We need to remove your shirt,” she said past the lump in her throat.

She reached to slip Gray’s shirt over his shoulder but his hand shot out to jerk it out of her grasp.

“Leave it,” he said on a gasp. “The doctor can do it.”

“I won’t touch your wound. I just want to—
”

“No. Leave it.”

He clutched the front of his shirt in his fist and held tight as if he didn’t want her to see how badly he was wounded.

“I’ve tended wounds before, Mr. Delaney.”

“I don’t doubt your nursing skills, Maggie, my love,” he said, then stopped to catch his breath. “But I’ll let the good doctor do his damage first.”

“Very well, but at least let me help you
lie down.”

“That I’ll let you do. The room doesn’t seem to want to stop spinning.”

Maggie helped him lie down, then pulled the covers over him. “Do you really think that someone doesn’t want you here?”

He breathed a heavy sigh
. then shuddered. “Either that or they found out what I was doing and didn’t want you to have any more tied properties.”

“But who?”

He didn’t have a chance to answer the question because Aunt Hester rushed in with the doctor on her heels.

Maggie stepped back to let the doctor look at Gray’s shoulder, but Gray stopped him with a lift of his hand. “You can come back when the doctor’s finished, Miss Bradford,” he said with a poor excuse for a smile on his lips. “And bring a bottle of Bradford’s finest ale, and…”
He stopped to take a breath.

“
You can talk later, Mr. Delaney,” Maggie interrupted him before he could go on.

She turned to leave, but his voice stopped her.

“…and two glasses.”

“I think one glass will be enough,” she said over her shoulder.

“Not for a proper toast it won’t.”

“What toast?”

“To my success.”

“Your suc—
”

Maggie wouldn’t have been able to finish her sentence even if Aunt Hester hadn’t pushed her out of the room. His announcement had been too great a shock.

Bradford Brewery owned the King’s Crown.

“Did you hear what he said?” Maggie asked her aunt as they waited in the sitting room for the doctor to finish. Even though she hadn’t sent up the two glasses he’d requested, she had sent up a bottle of their finest ale. She thought he’d probably need it before the doctor was finished.

“I heard. I assume he meant he was successful in his goal to purchase the
King’s Crown.”

“I can’t believe it.
” Maggie sank further into the large, cushioned chair. She took another sip of the tea Aunt Hester had given orders to be brought in, then set the cup into its saucer with a clink.

“What can’t you believe? That he was successful in his promise to purchase the
King’s Crown, or that he actually followed through on something he told you he’d do?”

Maggie’s gaze darted to the innocent expression on her aunt’s face but knew beneath that façade, there lurked a sublime point. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, pretending a naïveté that was totally unlike her.

“He’s not at all like your father, you know.” Her aunt set the cup and saucer on the table and planted her body as if she were preparing to give a lecture. “Grayson might appear as carefree as your father seemed, but beneath all that joviality there is an intelligence he’s made a good effort to hide.”

“Why would he want to conceal his intelligence?”

“My guess would be that his lackadaisical attitude makes it easier to avoid responsibility as well as bury the dark demons the lad has to battle.”

She turned to face her aunt. “What demons?”

“Do you know anything of his youth?”

She shook her head.

“His mother died in a fire at their country estate, Mayfair Manor. If I remember correctly, Grayson was the only one of the family with her.”

Maggie recalled th
e fire in the stable and Gray’s reaction afterward. She remembered how the color had drained from his face and the sight of him braced against the tree to keep upright. She imagined his fear of the raging flames and the courage it took for him to go inside a burning building to rescue the trapped horses.

“I’m not sure what happened,” her aunt continued, “but the boy changed after that. He became impossible to handle and was sent down from every school in which his father enrolled him.”

“How do you know this?”

“Like I told you, Camden and your uncle were close friends. The earl came to see me when Grayson was sent down from his third or fourth school. He was at a loss as to what to do, and to make matters worse, Grayson was suffering from horrible nightmares. No one at any of the schools knew how to handle him.”

“What did you tell him?”

Aunt Hester’s gaze changed, as if she recalled her conversation with Gray’s father all over again. “I asked him what the boy had told him from the night of the fire.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me Grayson had yet to talk about it.”

A painful weight pressed against Maggie’s chest. “Do you think he saw his mother die?”

Aunt Hester shrugged her delicate shoulders and released a heavy sigh. “I don’t know. It wasn’t long after that I heard young Delaney had sailed on a year-long voyage to the Indies and the Far East.”

“How old was he?” Maggie asked in surprise.

“He couldn’t have been more than sixteen at the time. But when he came back, it was far too late for his father to change him. Although I don’t think Camden ever stopped trying.”

“What do you think happened the night of the
fire?” Maggie wondered more than ever what had occurred to shape Grayson Delaney into the man he’d become.

“I have no idea other than—
” Her aunt stopped.

“Other than, what?” Maggie
realized it was imperative her aunt finish her sentence.

“Other than I think the answer is buried at Mayfair Manor.”

Maggie wanted to ask more, but a rap on the door stopped her. A sleepy-eyed butler opened the door to admit the doctor.

“How is he?” Maggie asked when the doctor entered the room.

“Very lucky. The bullet did little damage and Mr. Delaney should feel few aftereffects other than some stiffness and minor discomfort. It is important, however, that he rest for a couple of days. There’s always the risk of fever.”

“Of course.
” Maggie breathed a sigh of relief.

“I gave him a bit of laudanum to help him over the worst of it so he should sleep the rest of the night. I’d keep a watch on him though, just in case.”

“Of course. Someone will stay with him.”

“Very good. I’ll be back later this afternoon or toward evening to check on him.”

The doctor turned to leave.

“Would you care for a glass of wine before you
go, or a cup of tea?”

“Thank you, no. I must be on my way. Mrs.
Chittendon is past due to have her babe. I anticipate that one of the older lads will be knocking on my door before the night’s over, so I don’t want to be gone for long.”

“Of course. Cook made up a basket with some biscuits and something warm to drink,” she said, handing the doctor the small parcel a very rumpled maid held out for her. “And here’s something for your trouble.”

She placed a coin on the top of the basket that the doctor gratefully tucked away in his pocket.

“Thank you, Miss Bradford. Just watch him for a few days to make sure fever doesn’t set in. He should recover in no time.”

Maggie watched until the doctor’s carriage pulled away from the curb, then closed the door and walked back inside. Her aunt stood in the middle of the foyer waiting for her. “Go to bed now, Aunt Hester.” She took her aunt by the arm and led her up the stairs.

“I’d tell you to do the same, but I don’t think it would do any good.”

Maggie couldn’t meet her aunt’s gaze. “You heard what the doctor said. We need to make sure Mr. Delaney doesn’t develop a fever.”

“Call if you need help.”

“I will.” She gave her aunt a loving kiss on the cheek. “Jeremy will be with me.”

“Very well. I’ll go to bed then. It’s been a long day.”

“That it has. Rest well,” she said. “The worst is over now.”

Her aunt turned slowly to close her door, then stopped. “Is it? We don’t know who shot Grayson Delaney or why. Until we do, I think this is only beginning.”

Maggie stared at the closed door for several seconds before she walked toward the guest room where Grayson Delaney was resting.

Her aunt was right to warn her. She should go to her own room and go to bed, but she knew she’d never sleep. Not now. Not with him just down the hall.

She opened the door. Jeremy sat in a chair in the corner and jolted upright as if he’d been dozing.

“You can go to bed now, Jeremy.”

“The doctor said someone was to sit with Mr. Delaney all night.”

“I’ll stay. It’ll only be a few hours until everyone is up and I’ll have one of the footmen sit with him then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. And tell Mr. Carmody that I said to let you sleep in tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Miss Bradford,” Jeremy said with a broad smile on his face. “G’night, then.”

“Good night, Jeremy. And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Miss.”

Maggie waited until Jeremy left then walked across the room. A fire still glowed in the fireplace, keeping the room nice and warm while giving off enough light to let her see. Maggie thought of lighting another candle but there was something about watching Mr. Delaney’s strong, chiseled features shift and change in the dancing firelight that kept her from adding more light.

He was remarkably handsome she noticed not for the first time, and the familiar churning inside her chest nudged her heart in a most disturbing way. His torso was only half covered, but even without touching him she could almost feel beneath her fingertips the hardness of the corded muscles across his shoulders and on his arms. Her cheeks burned as if she’d been caught doing something terrible, when all she’d done was watch him sleep. Oh, why did he have to affect her like he did?

She didn’t care what excuses Aunt Hester made for why he was the way he was, it didn’t change the end
product. He was still an exact replica of her father—except that her father would never have been successful in purchasing the King’s Crown. Her father would have drank away the evening with Geordie Briars and come home with less money than he’d gone with and nothing to show for his effort. Grayson Delaney had come away with a tied property to add to Bradford Brewery.

She watched his chest as he took one labored breath after another. A round circle of blood stained the large, white bandage the doctor had wrapped around his middle and across his shoulder. As long as the wound didn’t bleed profusely he was in no danger, but she vowed to
observe closely to make sure the spot didn’t get worse. He was healthy and strong. He’d be all right.

Maggie pulled up a chair and sat by his bedside
. Just being close to him was a euphoric agony she wasn’t sure she could endure. Just watching him sleep filled her with a hollow fullness that made her ache with a longing she’d never felt before. Just sitting here—

She pulled herself out of her musings when his head tossed to the side and he uttered a low moan.

“Mr. Delaney,” she whispered, placing her hand on his uninjured shoulder in an effort to hold him down. “Don’t move. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Mother! Come back!”

“You’re dreaming, Mr. Delaney. Everything’s all right now. You’re safe.”

He ground out another agonizing moan and tried to pull away from her.

“Shh, Gray.” She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “You’re only dreaming.”

“Don’t go,” he gasped. “Please… don’t.”

“I won’t. I won’t go.”

“Come back!” He took several harsh breaths and reached for her. His fingers
clenched around her forearm and pulled her toward him. Before she could escape his grasp, he wrapped his arm around her and brought her down over him. “Stay with me!”

He held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. She struggled but he wouldn’t release her. When she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, he only pulled her closer.

“Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go,” he repeated over and over, each time the words coming faster and his tone more frantic.

“I won’t. I’m right here. Right. Here.” She gave up her struggle and pressed her cheek against his to whisper in his ear. “Please, release me,” she said, shifting her body to keep from touching his injured shoulder.

“No, Mother!” he ground out, squeezing her closer. “Safe… Keep you… safe.”

Maggie braced as much of her weight as she could on her elbows on either side of his body. “I’m safe, Gray. You’ve kept me safe.”

She held still for what seemed an eternity and just when she thought she might have to call for help, his eyes flew open. He stared at her with the most confused and frightened look she’d ever seen, then shook his head as if to clear it. With alarming speed he released his hold on her as if she were hot iron against his flesh.

She pushed herself to her feet and stood an adequate distance from him.

“What happened?” he asked.

“You had a
nightmare.”

He paused
, eyes closed again. Maggie waited for his breathing to calm and his body to relax.

He finally opened his eyes but he didn’t look at her.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly.

“No. You were dreaming about—
”

“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything.”

He turned his face away from her and sank back into a deep slumber.

When she was certain he was asleep, she rinsed a cloth in the cool, clean water a maid had brought up and wiped the perspiration from his brow. She placed it back in the basin and sat down with a heavy sigh to keep watch in case he had another nightmare.

He didn’t move except to clutch at the covers as if he needed something—or someone to hold onto. Without understanding why she did something so foolish, she sat on the side of the bed and took his hand in hers.

A shot of warm heat raced from where their flesh met, then traveled up her arm and slivered through her chest. She knew she should release him but she didn’t. Instead, she sat at his side with his hand nestled in hers until the sun slowly lit the sky and the magical, mystical euphoria that only occurs in the dark faded with the light.

****

“What time is it?” he asked softly. He’d enjoyed watching her sleep for what seemed hours but he needed to move and for some reason the longer he was awake, the hungrier he became.

“What time is it?” he repeated again but she only shifted in her chair as if his voice was an irritation.

“What time is it!” he said louder
.

“Oh!”

If he hadn’t hurt so bloody bad he’d have laughed at the way Maggie Bradford jolted in her chair.

“You startled me,” she said, clasping her hand to her chest. “I didn’t realize you were awake.”