Ambersley (Lords of London) (38 page)

She doffed her clothes, and sponged her lithe body by firelight. She twisted her hair up and out of the way—washing it would have to wait until the morrow. Soon she was scrubbed and glowing, and only a little chilled as she dried herself by the hearth. Too late, she recalled asking Mrs. North to take her saddle roll to the bedroom down the hall.

Pushing her hair back, Johanna convinced herself Derek wouldn’t mind her borrowing one of his shirts. She quietly rifled his wardrobe and donned a white shirt with full sleeves that covered her thighs halfway. The fine linen felt soft against her skin, and she was grateful for anything after the three-day-old clothes.

She checked once more on Derek, who slept with only the faintest of wheezing as he breathed. His cheeks were still flushed with fever and overgrown with black stubble. Johanna had never imagined him with a beard, and it was all she could do not to trace the outline of its growth across his normally smooth skin. She reached a hand toward him, then pulled it back to stroke her own neck instead as she recalled how intimate she’d become with Derek’s body while nursing him. She’d seen every inch of him, and every inch was magnificent. He’d be angry about the impropriety of her behavior, but she’d been a good nurse and never thought of anything beyond making him well. Only now could she afford to let her mind wander back to that fateful kiss he’d given her in Grosvenor Square. The memory left her yearning to feel his touch again.

Johanna turned a wing chair so she could watch over Derek as he slept. Dragging a blanket around her hips and legs, she curled up in the chair and tucked her bare toes under her. She watched over his prone form and considered her impetuous action of coming here. Harry would have rushed to Derek’s side as quickly as she had, she knew. But Harry was a man, and Derek’s devoted cousin. Johanna found it demeaning that Harry could travel about unquestioned while she would have to recite a litany of answers. She preferred not to consider those answers too closely just yet. With a last glance at Derek, she resolutely closed her eyes and courted sleep.

~

Derek awoke with a crushing headache and parched throat. It took him a moment to gain his bearings and realize he wasn’t feeling the ill effects of a night of drinking but was simply
ill
. Slowly, he raised his head. A single candle glowed, and the fire burned low in the grate, but neither shed enough light for him to focus on anything. Overheated, he couldn’t summon the strength to throw off the heavy bedcovers.

A soft rustle stirred the darkness, and suddenly Johanna was setting the candle beside the bed. In the soft light, Derek noted dark shadows beneath her eyes. Her competent hand smoothed his forehead and he almost groaned with pleasure when she bathed his cheeks with soothing cool water. It was a compelling fantasy he’d entered with Johanna, clad simply in one of his shirts, ministering to him. Only when she tilted a glass to his lips and he tasted barley water, did he doubt his fertile imagination. With effort, he raised his hand to touch the cool glass and her warm fingertips.

“
Johanna?”

“
Shh,” she replied with a little smile. “Johanna’s not allowed to be here. I’m Johnny.” She tried to withdraw her hand.

“
Don’t go.”

“
I must heat up the broth. You’ve eaten very little these past few days.” She eased her hand from his.

“
I’m not hungry.”

“
You need to eat anyway.” When he started to disagree, her tone became firm. “Don’t argue with me. I’m much stronger than you for the moment. Let me put another pillow behind you.”

Derek had a dozen questions, but he didn’t raise a single one as Johanna leaned over to adjust the pillows. He recognized a faint familiar scent of lavender when she put a capable arm behind his back. The curve of her breast pressed against his shoulder and he smiled at the unexpected pleasure. She padded barefoot to the fireplace, candlelight playing across the backs of her calves. Derek didn’t care what good fortune had brought her to Ambersley, he only knew that already she’d dispelled the bleak loneliness he’d felt since returning home. In moments, the smell of simmering beef and sage filled the room and Johanna returned with a small bowl.

“
I can feed myself,” Derek croaked as she raised a spoonful of dark broth.

Her brow quirked but she passed him the bowl. “Fine, but you’ll wear yourself out.”

She pulled the blankets back and Derek was grateful to lose their heavy weight. He spooned the watery stew carefully into his mouth and heard his stomach growl its thanks. Johanna moved about the room, adding another log to the fire, lighting a candelabra on the table, folding a blanket and laying it on the chair.

She returned to his side. “Tired now?” She took the bowl from him and, seeing it still half full, shook her head. “Weak as a kitten, but at least you won’t waste away overnight.”

Derek met her gaze squarely. “I would have rather thought you’d prefer me out of the way.”

“
Oh, don’t say that,” she protested.

To his surprise, a single tear traced its way down her soft cheek. “Here, now. What’s amiss?” Derek pulled her down to sit beside him on the bed.

“
I feared you might die before I could apologize for the awful things I said in London. You were very provoking, but I was wrong to behave so.”

“
I fear you provoked me as well.”

“
I should never have wished you dead.”

“
That was the most provoking of all,” he admitted.

“
You know I didn’t mean it.”

Derek gently wiped her damp cheek with his thumb. “Ahh, but at the time, you see, I thought you might.”

“
Oh, Derek, don’t say that. You must know that I’ve…come to count on you—your counsel—ever since I was a child.” She lifted aqua eyes to gaze directly at him. “I’d be lost without you.”

She locked her fingers with his and gave his hand a squeeze to add evidence to her statement. It was a gesture she’d often used as Johnny, but Derek saw no traces of the gardener’s son. She was the daughter of a duke, beautiful and unobtainable. Yet she was here in his bedroom sharing confidences with him.

Johanna smoothed a stray lock of dark hair from his forehead, her cool hand soothing his brow and even more his soul. When she finally withdrew, he snatched her wrist midair and pressed a kiss against her palm.

Instead of pulling away, she leaned forward.

Encouraged, Derek traced his fingers up the collar of her shirt to stroke her nape in a slow caress. Her hand dropped softly to his bare chest, and with a moan, he pulled her to him and hungrily captured her lips in a lingering kiss. Her tentative response, the splaying of her fingers on his ribs, the opening of her mouth beneath his gentle onslaught undid him. He plunged his hands into her loose hair as if afraid she would withdraw from his lips even as he branded her with their sensual warmth.

He wasn’t sure whether a moment or an eternity had passed when a noise at the door made her pull away from his viselike grip. He released her with reluctance and even more reluctantly she lifted her head.

Derek looked up into her dilated eyes. Her lips, red and moist from his kisses, parted as she tried to catch her breath. His gaze roamed over her features, down to her white throat, pausing to wonder how it would taste, and further to where the linen gaped open. He caught his breath—until now he hadn’t realized she wore not a stitch of clothing but for his shirt.

“
Well, well. Isn’t this a cozy picture?” Rosalie Vaughan stood in the open doorway and removed her gloves. “I’m so glad I told Curtis and Olivia to await me at the Dower House, for this scene would scarcely be fit for their eyes.”

Johanna deftly slipped off the bed and would have retreated, but Derek still held her by one hand. She clutched her shirt collar close to her throat and stared back with wide eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“
Saving you from utter ruin, apparently—or is that what you want?” Rosalie stepped into the room and tossed her gloves onto a stool by the wardrobe. “Here I thought I was rushing to protect Derek from the misguided notions of that stable boy, Johnny. Now I see the truth. I’ve been very stupid, haven’t I? To think you’ve been enjoying each other under our very noses all this time.” She smiled darkly.

Cold fury brewed within Rosalie, but at last, she held the power. To think that bastard stable boy Johnny had metamorphosed into Lady Johanna—they’d played her for a fool. But now she had them cornered, and she would exact her revenge. “Congratulations, my dear. You’ve been very discreet—until now.”

Derek squeezed Johanna’s hand then released her before trying to sit up.

Immediately, Johanna pressed his shoulders back to the pillow. “No, you’ll bring on the fever again. Lie still.”

Rosalie watched their tender interaction but noted the fatigue etched in Derek’s features. “In truth, you don’t look well at all.” She reached toward his forehead. “Perhaps we should fetch a physician.”

“
Stay away from him!”

Rosalie recoiled, biding her time to strike. “Watch your tone with me,
young lady
.” Sarcasm laced her final words.

The distraught little chit stepped between Rosalie and the bed. “You won’t touch him while I’m here. I’ll throw you out myself if I must.”

Rosalie allowed herself a small laugh as she stepped to the foot of the bed. “The kitten has discovered her claws but I warn you, my dear, do not sharpen them on me. If indeed you nursed Derek back from death’s door all by yourself, I’d be the first to commend you. Were your methods not so
painfully
obvious,” she added with a sniff.

Derek’s jaw tightened. “She didn’t come alone. Aunt Bess and Harry are here.”

Johanna froze as Rosalie raised her brows. “Is that so, Johanna? I was told you arrived three nights ago on horseback. And we both know the Coatsworths are in Tunbridge Wells.”

“
What’s this?” Derek succeeded in pushing himself to a sitting position with, it appeared, much effort.

The chit shook with suppressed emotion as she explained herself to him. “Aunt Bess’s cousin died and they went to the funeral, but I stayed in London. When Lady Vaughan told me you were ill, I came immediately, as was my duty.”

“
Your duty,” Derek said slowly.

Rosalie’s eyes narrowed on them. “I suppose you felt it was
your duty
to crawl into bed with him, too.”

“
I didn’t—” Johanna began.

“
Enough!” Derek commanded.

Rosalie pursed her lips at the way he always protected his precious heiress. A pity she hadn’t been able to convince him to murder that boy Johnny on the dueling field.

“
Decidedly enough,” she said. “But for one thing, Johanna. Whatever have you done with poor Lord Worthing?” Pleasure surged through Rosalie as she watched the chit blush crimson before her head fell forward and hid her face.

“
Worthing? What’s this?” Derek looked back and forth between her and the chit. Oh, yes, she’d agitated him.

“
Did you not know?” Rosalie made no effort to hide her condescension. “Dr. Wardlaw returned to London and told me the
oddest
story that he’d been ejected from Ambersley by the Marquess of Worthing and an impudent servant boy who claimed to be the duke’s ward. They arrived unannounced in the wee hours of the morning. Tell me, Johanna, did you leave Worthing in sated slumber then come here to awaken Derek?”

Johanna raised her head but, instead of the frightened child she anticipated, the eyes of an angry tigress blazed back at her. “Do not insult him so. Lord Worthing has been nothing but good and kind to me. Even now he’s gone to fetch Harry and Aunt Bess. The staff will tell you he left nearly as soon as he delivered me here.”

“
Oh, of course, Paget and the rest will tell any story you ask of them.” She spoke to Johanna but watched Derek from the corner of his eye. His jaw tightened as the chit argued Worthing’s defense. That long rivalry might prove as tragic as the bare heel of Achilles. If nothing else, she could count on Derek to ensure the girl never married the marquess.

Derek contemplated Johanna with stony eyes. “Worthing brought you here in the dead of night alone?”

The chit took a step toward him but something, perhaps his icy demeanor, made her hesitate.

Mistake.