A Dangerous Man (29 page)

I see" Leah stroked the back of her hand over Geoffrey's
cheek. "You are merely dreaming, my lord. Richard and I are
here with you"

"My legs!" Geoffrey screamed. He heaved against the restraints. "My legs are afire. Richard, help me . . "

Richard forced his brother to swallow some tea laced with
laudanum. After a few minutes, the drug took effect and Geoffrey slipped into a fitful slumber. Richard turned to Leah. She
had yet to leave Geoffrey's side, save to eat or bathe or check
on Alison. Her skin was ashen, her eyes pale hollows in her
cheeks, and still, she was so beautiful, she made his heart
ache, made his throat clench. "You need sleep."

She shook her head. "I would not leave "

"I insist, Leah. You look ragged and weary unto death. I
will not have you sicken again. You must rest."

"What a dreadful fright I must be," she said, a weary grin
on her lips, a teasing sparkle creeping into her green eyes. She smoothed her hands over her hair, clenched in a tight
knot at the base of her neck. "We both need rest if we are to
be of use to your brother. Perhaps we could sleep in shifts?"

"Good idea. You take the first sleep."

She stared at Geoffrey for such a long moment, Richard
thought she would argue. But when she turned to him, she
simply nodded. With a gentle reminder to call her if Geoffrey
awakened, she went up on tiptoe and kissed him. As she
stepped back, he seized her wrist, hauled her against his
chest, buried his face in her neck. The warmth of her body
seeped through his bones, a soothing balm to the raw agony
slowly destroying him.

"I love you," she said, leaning back to look in his eyes.

He covered her lips with his. He devoured her words, tasted
her breath. He needed her, now more than ever, but she
needed to rest. He forced himself to release her. "Go. Sleep.
I will call you should he awaken" He turned his head, kissed
her palm.

She hesitated a moment, then nodded and left the room.

Richard dropped onto the chair beside the bed. He wanted
to murmur soothing reassurances, but his throat was so tight,
he could scarcely breathe, let alone speak.

Instead, he clutched his brother's hand in his fist, holding
him fast against the demons torturing him.

Geoffrey opened his eyes and stared straight at him.

For a moment, his gaze appeared clear, as if he were lucid,
then his mind's aimless ramblings began. "Eric, take care ...
never meant to tell ... Richard, where are you .. .-

He rocked his head on the pillow. His cheeks were warm
and flushed. "Told Jamison and look what happened. Richard, I'm sorry, so sorry. . ."

From the moment Geoffrey had started raving, Richard had
feared what his brother might say, what Leah might hear. He
tried to reassure himself that it wouldn't matter if she heard
Geoffrey's words. They were disjointed. Disconnected.

Without context, she would not understand their meaning.

But he didn't believe it, and it filled him with dread.

"Richard, where are you?"

"I'm here, Geoffrey. I am here" He draped a cloth soaked
in extract of henbane over his brother's forehead. He was so
steeped in regret and self-reproach, he didn't hear her approach. He had no idea she was in the room until the scent
of lavender water attacked his nose and she placed her palm
on his shoulder.

He pushed her hand away, then stood so she would not be
tempted to touch him again. "What do you want, Rachel?"

"To see how my dear brother is faring, of course"

As if she cared. No, she was here to see how she could best
twist this tragedy to her advantage.

She wore a delicate peach morning gown that brought out
the natural blush in her cheeks. Her eyes were clear and bright
and free of fatigue. Obviously she wasn't losing any sleep.

"I do not understand your anger toward me, Richard. Truly,
I don't. If, as you say, the past is dead and buried, why can
you not at least be civil to me? Or can it be .. " She placed
her hand over his, stroked her fingertips up and down his arm.
"That you are lying. That you love me still, as I love you"

Richard grunted. "Hardly, madam. The sight of you sickens
me until I must search for a chamber pot or cast up my accounts where I stand. The sound of your voice leaves me praying for deafness, and your touch makes my skin crawl. Now,
remove your hand from my arm or I will remove it for you"

"Is it crawling with distaste? Or are those shivers of desire
you would try to deny?"

He glared at her until she lifted her hand. "This is hardly
the time or place for this discussion. I do not want Geoffrey
distressed any more than he needs be from his illness."

"Are you suggesting my presence might distress him? I
have never been anything but kindness itself to Geoffrey."

Richard snorted. "Do you honestly believe everyone around you sees you as an angel come to delight us with your
ethereal presence? Geoffrey saw the way you treated Eric,
with your taunts and your torments. He blames you for Eric's
death. As do L"

Her eyes flashed with anger and something else, something
darker that Richard could not discern.

"You are both wrong," she said. "I did not force that bottle
to his lips. Nor did I heave him atop his horse and send him
racing pell-mell into the night."

"You made his life unbearable. He drank to escape you!"

"And what of you, oh-holier-than-thou! Do you think yourself blameless in all this?"

"I know the role I played." Richard strode to the windows.
He glanced out at the horizon, at the clouds dotting the night
sky, at the carriages crowding the distant street as society
rushed from one soiree to the next. "And I live with the guilt
of it every day of my life."

"I heard Geoffrey's words when I came in," Rachel said,
coming to stand before him, gazing up at him with a malicious gleam in her eyes. "I know why you married the chit.
You did it to protect Alison. How admirable! How noble!
How supremely fitting! I only wonder, what your wife will
say when she learns the truth? Will her eyes still shine with
love and adoration as they do now? Or will hatred burn in her
gaze?"

"If you tell her," Richard said through his teeth, his back
tightening, icy fury turning his skin cold, his hair damp. "I
swear on everything holy, I will kill you!"

She smiled up at him from beneath her lashes, a demure,
seductive smile, as if she had not heard the deadly menace
in his voice. "Now, Richard, is that any way to talk to the
mother of your only child?"

Leah hadn't meant to sleep, had meant only to rest for a
few moments, but the next time she opened her eyes, twelve
hours had passed. Silently cursing her weakness, she threw
on her clothes and scurried down the hall. By the time she returned to Geoffrey's room, he appeared to be resting peacefully.

She wished she could say the same for Richard, whose
long legs were curled up over the arms of his chair, his black
hair a stark contrast to the red brocade upholstery and the
afternoon sun lighting the room. Though covered with a soft
growth of beard, his cheekbones appeared more pronounced
and his jaw was rigid and clenched. His head hung to the side
at such an odd angle, she thought surely he would awaken
with a stiff neck.

Still, for the first time since this nightmare began, he was
sleeping, and she would not disturb him, even though all she
wanted was to draw him into her arms and offer him the comfort he would never seek. He was so strong, so brave for
everyone around him, yet he seemed to think he should suffer
alone.

Never had she witnessed such depth of emotion, the love
of a brother for a brother. Her father's example of familial de votion had always been sadly lacking. She dabbed at the
corner of her eyes, surprised when her fingertips came away
damp.

Sometime during the night, Richard had released the bindings securing Geoffrey's arms and legs. She placed her hand
against Geoffrey's cheek. His skin was cool and dry. His eyes,
as they opened and met her gaze, appeared clear, free of confusion and pain. She smiled. "Would you like some water?"

He tried to speak, but only a rasping grunt emerged. He
nodded, the motion making him wince and his lips curl, as if
his stomach were churning.

She held a glass to his mouth. "Drink it slowly. And do not
mind the taste. It has laudanum in it to ease your pain."

"Enough," he sputtered. "What happened? Have I been ill?"

Her hand trembled as she returned the glass to the bedside
table. She chewed on her lower lip. How much should she tell
him? "Well ... you returned home several days ago, quite late
at night. Do you remember any of this?"

The muscles in his throat tightened. "Vaguely. Go on"

"You were ... distressed. It seems you lost quite a bit of
money and-"

"I remember," he said, his voice a breathless whisper. His
right hand crept up his chest, traced the bandage wrapped
round his left shoulder. His gaze searched the room until he
found Richard. He let out a strangled moan. His eyes closed,
his lips tightened. "God, he will never forgive me"

"Do not talk nonsense," Leah chided gently, her own breath
raw in her throat. She drew his hand away from his wound,
tucked the bedding up to his neck. "You have given us all a
tremendous fright, but Richard most of all. He is consumed
with guilt that you did not trust him enough to confide in him.
Do not hurt him further by distrusting his love for you"

Geoffrey pressed his knuckles against his eyes, but it did
not stop the tears from leaking down his cheeks. "I know you are right, but the world seemed so bleak. It seems
bleaker still."

"Hush," Leah said, her throat growing tighter with each
breath she drew. "There will be time enough for worries when
you are strong again. But first, you must rest and heal."

"Geoffrey," Richard said as he surged from his chair. His
smile was a rigid clenching of his teeth and his eyes blinked
rapidly. He fell to his knees beside the bed, seized his brother's
hand in a grip so tight, Geoffrey winced.

Leah rose and tip-toed from the room, leaving the two
brothers alone to shed their tears.

Richard rubbed his hands over his eyes. A mountain of paperwork covered his desk. Bank books and deeds. Contracts
and mortgages. Ledgers and other statements of his personal
wealth.

He shuffled through the documents, trying to decide what
to keep and what to liquidate to cover Geoffrey's monstrous
debt.

The entailed properties couldn't be touched, nor could he
alter the provisions of his marriage contract or funds in trust
for Alison's dowry. Rachel's jointure also remained untouchable.

With a sigh of disgust, he shoved the papers away.

How was he supposed to concentrate on finances when
all he could think of was Leah? Restless energy sent him
prowling the room. He rubbed one palm over the back of his
neck, the muscles stiff and aching from barely suppressed
tension.

Over the last seven days, Geoffrey's condition had continued to improve. His wound showed no signs of infection and
his body was slowly adjusting to the lack of alcohol.

Still, Richard had hovered by his side.

When he had left the sickroom, he'd secluded himself with Alison, easing the child's fears over her uncle's illness. Or he
had pleaded fatigue and retired to his chambers. Alone.

Like the worst of cowards running from a battlefield, he was
avoiding his wife, and he knew it, but he could not face her.

Not with his emotions so raw and revealed.

All through Geoffrey's delirium, Richard had feared what
his brother might say, what Leah might hear. The only time
Geoffrey had ranted about the past, Leah had been absent
from the room. It had seemed as if God had finally answered
his prayers.

But Rachel had learned the true basis behind Richard's
hasty wedding. That woman was so perverse, she truly believed Richard would one day forgive her and welcome her
back into his bed.

Now it was only a matter of time before she found some
means to destroy him, to destroy Leah, even as she destroyed
her own daughter, a child Richard loved more than he loved
his own life.

A child sired upon his brother's wife.

Good Lord, it sounded ugly, even to him. He could only
imagine the malicious glee with which society would feast
upon the scandal. At the moment, Alison was too young to
understand, but one day soon, his beautiful child would learn
the truth.

As would his wife. His sweet, trusting, innocent wife.

A greater fear than he had ever known sucked the breath
from his lungs, turned his skin cold, made his arms shake.

Too late he had recognized his peril.

He was falling in love with his wife.

No, he thought savagely. He had recognized his danger
early enough, but he had failed to heed his own warnings.

How had she become so important to him so fast? Why had
he allowed her into his heart when he had vowed never to love
again?

He should have guarded against her. He'd meant to, but he'd failed. He had admired her courage from the start when
she had stormed his home and threw his marriage offer in his
face. Again when she braved the hatred of the ton for his sake,
and when she refused to cower under his edict forbidding her
to go to the foundling home. Although she grieved for her lost
sister, she refused to allow her despair to overwhelm her. Instead, she launched a one-woman mission to save the children
of England.

Now it was only a matter of time until she learned the vile
truth, only a matter of time until the admiration that burned
in her gaze turned to disgust, then from disgust to hate.

Not that Richard could blame her.

How could she possibly understand that he slept with his
brother's wife-sired a child upon his brother's wife when
he couldn't understand it himself? How could she ever forgive him when he could never forgive himself?