Her Lord and Protector (formerly titled On Silent Wings) (18 page)

Hurry
.
Please,
hurry
.

At last, the
creak of her bedchamber door was a welcome sound, his footsteps toward her bed
even more so. She turned eagerly toward him. He lifted the covers and slid down
beside her, his naked body warm and hard.

He drew her
within his arms. She sighed in contentment and curled into the broad expanse of
his chest.

He nuzzled her
neck and then kissed her for many minutes. She held his face tenderly, slid her
arms over his powerful shoulders, stroked his smooth back.

Wanting engulfed
her as his hands caressed her hot skin and his lips whispered endearments. Now.
It must be
now
.

Finally, he
poised above her. Instinctively she parted her legs for him, knowing what she
needed to free the coiled spring inside her—exactly what he had to give.

Take me...take
me, Alex
.

Her long sighs
of pleasure woke her.

She explored her
hot, damp body, entwined with her nightgown. And knew she was alone.

For a time she
lay still, staring at the dark shape of the canopy overhead.

The strength of
the dream and her reaction to it paled in her baffling disappointment that it
wasn’t real.

****

Lord Wiltshire’s
presence at breakfast caused Elizabeth to display more of her unusual behavior
of the evening before. She laughed heartily at the baron’s witticisms, and
Katherine was certain the woman had gone completely daft.

He spoke with
much less enthusiasm than he had last night, but he really hadn’t been funny
then, either. Katherine had heard the stories before; Ellis himself had
witnessed the Duke of Lauderdale’s unfortunate acquaintance with horse urine.
The only thing she’d enjoyed about the baron’s version was Lord Drayton’s
resulting smile. It had lit up his face.

This morning,
though, his lordship glowered down at his plate and speared his hot mutton pie
with harsh stabs of his three-pronged fork, and made the barest attempt to join
the conversation.

Katherine sipped
her coffee and studied his face. In her betraying dream, she knew he’d had no
crease between his brows, no grim downward turn of his lips.

Might his
shoulders and back be as smooth as her mind had imagined? And his hips, would
they fit perfectly between her thighs as if he were made for her body?

Unbidden desire
shook her. Her coffee sloshed over the cup and onto the white-clothed table.
She gasped, but not at any pain.

Lord Drayton
raised his head, and his startled gaze met hers before darting to her hand
still holding the cup.

“Oh! Have you
burned yourself?” Elizabeth stood too quickly and, hip twisting, lost her
balance. She lurched to her right. With a small scream, she fell against Lord
Wiltshire, turning his wig askew so that it covered one half of his face.

“Damnation!” the
baron exclaimed as he shot up a hand to catch her.

Alex rushed to
Katherine’s side as Lord Wiltshire helped Elizabeth back into her chair. “Is
everyone all right?” Alex asked, but his eyes never left Katherine.

“I am. Thank
you,” Lord Wiltshire said with a haughty air. He lifted his hands to his wig
and gave it a jerk to the left.

Elizabeth sat,
red-faced and blinking tears.

It was an
appropriate farce to end her stay here, Katherine thought, although as far as
she knew, her trunks still hadn’t been packed. She slid back her chair as a
servant approached with a cloth to lay over the coffee puddled on the table.

“Is your hand
injured?” Lord Drayton asked her.

What did he
care? He wanted her gone. Katherine shook her head and coolly held up her hand
to show him that the coffee hadn’t touched it. Nonetheless, he took her fingers
and peered closely at them. At his tender touch, Katherine’s breath caught in
her throat.

“’Twould be one
more wound,” he muttered, and released her hand. “I will have to keep you
protected in a room full of cushions before long.”

Katherine looked
sharply at him. What did he mean, before long? She was leaving, wasn’t she?

“The baron will
be departing, but I believe he would like to speak to you first,” Lord Drayton
said.

The awareness
that he had answered her unspoken question was overshadowed by the implication
of his words.

“I most
certainly would,” the baron replied in a flat tone. “I shall converse with her
directly after breakfast.”

Katherine
gasped. She might stay. With Lord Drayton.
Alex
.

They locked eyes
as he resumed his seat. This time, something in his expression—could it be
hope?—betrayed his usual aloof countenance. Ignoring her nervousness, she
inclined her head and pegged him with a direct thought.

Before the day
ended, she was certain he would tell her the truth about himself.

Rain pummeled
the coach with relentless fury. Deep ruts in the muddy road jostled them so
badly that several times Millie was thrown against Katherine, who clutched the
leather loop over the window with both hands. Alex, sat across from them,
struggling to remain still, feet flat on the floorboard, hands pressed to the
seat. A day later and he still hadn’t explained his intentions to Katherine.
He’d said nothing of marriage, or of finding her a Jewish physician. Silence
was familiar ground. Although he possessed a voice, he wasn’t accustomed to
using it in heart-felt disclosures and had only issued instructions to pack for
London.

After Millie’s
third whimper of pain and Katherine’s futile attempts to shield herself, he
said, “Katherine, move across to sit beside me.”

She appeared
decidedly uncertain and not a little annoyed, and he could hardly blame her.
He’d hurried her into the coach with the barest explanation. Justifying his
actions was also an alien state.

To try and allay
her fears, he smiled. “I am not bouncing around like Millie. Come to this side
before you are covered with bruises.”

As she
half-stood to move across the coach, it lurched to the right, and she raised
her hands to catch herself.

“Steady now.”
Alex caught her around her waist and pulled her down beside him, noting her
stiffness. He did not immediately release her.

She pulled away
from him and leaned forward, and drew a folded piece of paper from her small
satchel. Watching him, she held it out.

“You have
questions,” he said, taking the note with a pang of guilt. He should have told
her why he was taking her on this journey.

The carriage
lurched again and she was thrown to the side, and would have bumped her head
had he not grabbed her again. He tucked her arm into his to keep her secure.
Millie now held the strap with both hands.

“We’ll discuss
my plans in a moment,” Alex said. He kept his voice firm. “For now, I will tell
you that this morning, I discovered your prying in one of my ledgers.”

Her eyes
widened, but she didn’t flinch from his steady gaze.

Alex couldn’t
help smiling. “’Twasn’t I who made all the mistakes. You met my dishonest
steward in that book. He died several months ago, in town.” Watching the trickling
shadows on her face created by the rain through the windows, he continued. “The
first errors began around the date when my wife first showed signs of madness.
Apparently, he took advantage of my distraction and trust, and pocketed much of
my profits for the next few months. I have not the patience to go back and
correct all my books.”

Katherine might
be willing to offer her help in correcting his ledgers, but right now she
wanted answers. She pointed to Alex’s waistcoat pocket.

“Yes. Your
letter.” He took it out—almost tearing it in half in another lurch from the
coach wheels—and read, “‘As you know, my inability to speak leaves me unable to
fully express my thoughts’—I know this, Katherine. You compensate by knocking
me about.” With a wry glance at her heating cheeks, he continued. “‘I know not
your intentions. Lord Wiltshire warned me that the doctor you are seeking is inept
and dangerous to my well-being.’“

Alex stopped.
Pain passed over his features and his eyes swept across the page as if reading
the lines again. The light faded from his eyes and his mouth resumed its
tightness. He didn’t argue or explain himself, but instead read the rest of her
letter in silence.

There was little
else she had written—only that she hoped his intentions were honorable as she
had done nothing to deserve his malice. The unwritten words, those that stayed
hidden in her heart, spoke of her draw toward him, the perplexing mix of
longing and uncertainty.

Now he raised
his face, his expression naked and open, and Katherine’s heart went out to the
dejected man beneath the aloof exterior.

“I have none but
honorable intentions, Katherine. Do you truly think me a man of malice?” His
eyes searched hers.

Her mouth moved.
No
.

His relief
showed in the relaxing of his jaw. “Such lovely lips,” he said, gazing at her
mouth. “How I long to hear you speak.” He was silent for a moment, and then
said so quietly that she had to strain to hear him over the pounding rain, “I
seek the most talented doctor that I can find to heal you. This is the reason
we travel to London.”

Katherine’s hand
rose slowly to her throat, where a lump had formed. Alex had no obligation to
the king save providing her food and shelter, yet he would try to help her
speak again.

Was there any
way to express her gratitude?

There was.
Taking his face in both her hands, she pulled him down to her and pressed a
soft kiss to his lips.

When the bleak
gray sky began to fade to black, Alex directed the carriage to stop at Three
Hooves Inn, a well-tended building but for the mud-spattered pebbled path that
led to its planked door. He covered Katherine with his cloak and hastened her
in from the rain.

Later, they
entered the public eating room where he ordered a meat pasty for each of them
and a pitcher of strong ale to share.

He waited until
the serving girl left before he spoke. Discussing his feelings was a foreign experience,
but he had to be honest with her. “I have done nothing to earn your trust. I
thought it unnecessary when I received the king’s letter explaining why you
were coming to my home.”

Katherine
watched him steadily.

“My servant told
me you listened at my study door the other night while I spoke with Lord
Wiltshire. No, do not be embarrassed,” he added when Katherine lowered her
eyes. “I have grown quite used to your curious nature. But you heard only part
of the conversation, apparently. Sam told me you left before the baron and I argued.”

The ale arrived,
and he drank. Katherine lifted her own cup with both hands and sipped the heady
liquid. She kept an even expression, yet he saw the inquisitiveness in her
eyes.

“Lord Wiltshire
disagreed with me about the doctor. He desired your silence. ’Tis why I tore up
the marriage contract.” He shook his head and added, “I was wrong in thinking I
could marry you off to someone like that.” Or anyone, an insistent voice spoke
up in his mind.

Eyes narrowed in
speculation, Katherine wrapped her fingers around her tankard and slowly
drummed it.

Alex licked his
lips and took a breath. “The doctor I seek is Jewish. The king might think I
doubted the skill of the royal physician who examined you. This is why I concealed
my reason for our journey to London. I did not even tell Elizabeth.”

He saw the
slight shift of Katherine’s head, the dawning of understanding in her eyes.
Lifting a quill that she brought with her along with ink and paper, she dipped
it and wrote,
The baron made it seem that you wish to harm me
.

“Harm you?” he
exclaimed, frowning, when he read her words. “No. The baron simply distrusts
Jews.” He leaned toward her then, his voice low and tense. “I will tell you why
I want to help you, Katherine. My wife, Mary, went insane. She thought I wanted
to kill her. She ran from me, jumped out her window. I found her broken and
bleeding on the ground. I want to help you because—” He passed a hand over his
face and took a choking breath. “—because I could not help
her
. I want
to think I can make a difference. If we fail, if you never get your voice
back...well then, at least we tried.”

Gripping the
quill as if frozen, Katherine stared at him.

“But hear me,”
Alex continued, keeping his words soft although they wanted to rip straight
from his soul, “I made a pact with myself the night she died. No woman will
ever shred me in two like she did.
No
woman will cause me pain. ’Tis why
I wanted you married and gone from my life.”

Unused to this
emotion, Alex paused gratefully as the serving girl arrived with platters of
food. The venison pasty, a seasoned meat concoction wrapped in dough, was hot
and fresh from the oven. He stabbed into it with his three-pronged fork and
spread around the meaty juice that bubbled up through the holes and sent a
savory steam into the air.